Joan Dorsey
Contributing columnist
Winter is upon us and those 4:30 p.m. twilight hours and are so dreary.
You spend lots of time reading or playing on the internet.
I had two unfortunate incidents leading to a not-so-good week. One was taking out a display of ceramic cups at the local grocery store. TaDa! I am a star! However no one applauded.
Then, on a whim, I found a favorite pair of shoes in my closet and decided to wear them just to be a little taller.
They were so comfortable, as a matter of fact, when I got home from, the same grocery store, I noticed the shoes had come completely unsewed. I had been walking around in basically clown shoes.
I tried to remember when I had purchased them, but when you don’t change sizes anymore, you have a tendency to keep stuff. So maybe 15 years ago? My children reassured me that if no one offered to pay for my groceries, my shoes probably went unnoticed.
So as I was entertaining myself online, I stumbled into the local dog rescue web sites. I follow Old English Sheepdog Rescue from Texas, Corgi Connection from Kansas, and a couple of others. I am usually the first to point out adoptable, sweet doggies needing a new home to my friends.
Well it was late, and I found myself filling out pre adoption papers on line. I couldn’t possible qualify. My back yard isn’t fenced. Plus I had snarkily answered the question “will you parents approve of you getting a dog?” with “they are both dead.”
I sent the application off. No word for two weeks. I figured the little fellas I had noticed had been seen by many, many people.
Lizzy has been gone several months now. I still look for her at times, and listen for her feet on the floor or her dog tags. Dogs provided a different level of companionship than cats. They tend to be a “wingman” for activity.
My children had also asked me very nicely, not to adopt or get a big dog. No more pulling on leashes or walking a dog outside when the snow was flying or it was icy. Humm, but I love sheepdogs….
So I get a call from the rescue lady. Would I like to meet these puppies? No obligation, just look at them. I am pretty sure she held back a snicker.
I enlisted my friend to drive me to North Kansas City. She would drive, and I would pet and hold if I did decide to get the puppy. I didn’t tell my kids.
I know what puppies entail. The doubts floated around my head like sugarplums. Was I too old? What if it didn’t like me? How do you deal with little dogs? Plus it was a BOY!
Needless to say, I now have an 11 week old little dog named Max. I named him after Max the dog in the Grinch movies. He sort of looks like him, minus the stapled-on reindeer tree antlers.
His Mom came from Texas, maybe a flood dog? She looked like Miniature Pinscher, his father was a traveling sales man. So he is a little brown ASB, American Small Breed.
Yes I just made that up.
Well, we have settled into our routine. We play, he sleeps. We haven’t explored outside yet. He still needs a couple more puppy shots, and it is cold out. He will fetch almost every time. He can sit, and stand on his hind legs. We need to work on socialization and meeting other dogs. When I turn the lights out for bed, he goes and gets in his little dog crate. He is the size of a large burrito, with a curly waggeldy tail.
I think I got a good one.