Eight years ago on this very weekend, Rusty and I skipped out on Pride Weekend and motored out to Sweaty Kneecap, Nevada, or something like that, to pick up Chip, a labrador retriever puppy. On the drive home, he slept in the crook of my arm. Today, he's a 105 pound brick shithouse with a graying muzzle. My how time flies.
And Chip ... aka Chipdog ... aka Chipperdoodle ... aka PoodleDoodle ... aka The Poodle ... has become such a part of us, he's ... well ... a part of us. I do love that poodle.
Today, Rusty, Don (our house brother), Chipdog and I skipped out on Pride to go meet Bingo, a nine-year-old labrador retriever at the Santa Clara shelter. And while he's a bit of a spaz, Bingo came home-o with us today.
A new dog, Kenneth, you ask? I know. A nine-year-old new dog, Kenneth, you say? I know, I know. The debate about do we get a new dog or not has raged for years. A friend or two (yes, Patty, this means you) has even gone so far as to launch a full-scale campaign to lobby for a new puppy.
And instead we defied all expectations and came home with this old coot. But I can explain.
It's clear that Bingo (not his real name-o ... but his English isn't so great, so he can't tell us the real one) was separated from His Peoples somehow. He knows how to sit and lay down and shake, which is hardly something you pick up by accident as a canine.
Whether His Peoples wanted it this way or not is impossible to know, but the shelter's tried for several months to return him to his rightful place to no avail. And people don't exactly run to adopt older dogs. He was featured as pet-of-the-month so many times in the newspaper, he almost got his own column.
And that's how we got Bingo. Now to be known as Peety (an homage to my current employer and his current need to relieve himself every 15 minutes).
The reason why is simple: Every one of us was once a pup that rode home in the crook of a happy parent's arm. And every one us could lose Our Peoples in our later days. The best any of us can hope is that another tribe will wander by and claim us as their own ... that they'll see us as family even if we're old and there's no more fur on our elbows.
Welcome home, Peety. Welcome. Home.
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2 comments:
That brought tears to my eyes. He's a lucky dog and I'm sure he appreciates his new family.
Our dog is 10.5 years old and he's the center of our universe. Lately we've been talking about getting another but we're worried about hurting his feelings.
How is Chip dealing with his new sibling?
Okay... I am crying and I was there -Ronda
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