It has been nearly two years since I decided a cat was not in my near future (Murphy being what he is) and that perhaps I would be better off getting a dog. It was not an easy decision, because while I like dogs, I do not really have the energy to be a dog person and, well, frankly, I am afraid of dogs.
Not little dogs. I merely dislike little dogs. There are exceptions to that rule: Dachshunds are allowed and my ex-neighbor had a Yorkie terrier and a terrier mix that adored me. But on the grand scale of things, if a dog isn’t going to weigh 30 pounds, I really don’t care for it. Oh – also exceptions: my friend’s (Kelly’s) adorable “Little” Murphy and my mother-in-law’s love-starved Jack Russell, Maggie. OK – I could probably make exceptions all day long because, let’s face it, I love animals.
There are just a few dogs I do not like. Standard Schnauzers are not high on my list after years of being tolerated by my mother’s “Mr. Tack”. It didn’t help that she called him “Tacky” and sometimes she got our names mixed up and she called me “Tacky”. I don’t think she ever called him “Jackie”. Oh, and after a year of intense 4-H dog training, Mr. Tack took a nap in the show ring at the tri-county fair and we walked away with a white ribbon which is 4-H’s nice way of saying, “Sorry, Loser”. I never forgave Mr. Tack.
I prefer cats. They don’t need a lot of attention. They sleep on your head. They purr.
There are negatives to a cat, too. Hair balls. That odd green mouse organ they won’t eat, but they will leave on the doorstep for you. Mouse heads. Shrew tails. Dead birds. Claws.
But dogs. Dogs have always eluded me. We had a dog when I was a kid: a funny-looking dog like Farley Mowat’s Dog-Who-Wouldn’t-Be. His name was Butchey, he chased rocks and cars, and he climbed chain-link fences. That was before Mr. Tack. And after my mother’s miserable little toy dog, Squeaky, that used to chew on us kids to wake us up. I think Squeaky was a Chihuahua, but I don’t really remember the monster. Only that he nibbled on children.
Obviously, my mother liked little dogs.
When I was a girl, I had several scary encounters with large dogs, one of which was a brush of teeth against my face. It never was the dog’s fault: dogs act on instinct. Children who run are prey. Fear emits a smell or an aura that dogs can sense and they prey on it. Ghost stories around strange dogs is not advisable.
Most of the dog encounters in my life could be handled: Kelly, the Black Lab that chased kids could be thwarted by the simple act of pretending to pick up a rock and aiming it at him. Kelly was a coward. Princess, the German Shorthair, was dangerous, but it was my girlfriend, not me, who got cornered by Princess. And my girlfriend knew what to do (but she still cried when it was over and Princess was once again cloistered in her kennel until hunting season).
The two big dogs that charged over our under-ground garage roof at us were tamed by my sister (who never knew a dog she didn’t like). Soon even I was able to play with Spooky & Bandit.
And, of course, we had dogs as we raised our children. Good dogs. Rosie, the mutt, who was like Butchey: Dog Extraordinare. Sadie, the purebred show-quality English Pointer who had the brains of a peanut but loved loyally. Murphy, the aggressive-dominant puppy that was beginning to mellow with age (and castration) into a large, goofy, but kind, monster (and master thief).
I searched websites. I had certain breeds I preferred over others: Dalmatians, Australian Shepherd, run-of-the-mill cow dog, another Brittany Spaniel mutt like Rosie. I once owned a Dalmatian. She and Don hated each other. Mandy. I had to give her back. It’s one of my regrets.
If I had to say it, Mandy influenced a lot of what I was searching for: I wanted another Mandy. She was a loving, good dog. She loved ME.
The short story is that I finally decided I really could not afford to pay the fees required by local rescue groups and I was unwilling to jump through the hoops some of them require of a “foster” home for a dog. Most of the dogs profiled didn’t meet my standards: good with children and other pets.
I finally decided to try the local Kill Shelter: Clackamas County Dog Control. At the time, I did not know that the pound goes to great lengths to find homes for the dogs they catch or rescue. They do not want to be in the business of putting stray dogs down. They periodically offer dogs at reduced fees. They spay and neuter all the dogs they give away. They even offer obedience classes.
Best of all, their dogs really need a home. Right now.
I went and walked through the aisles. Some dogs just plain hated me. Maybe they sensed that fear I have of dogs and they charged the chain link. Some just barked. Some looked sad. But only two met my criteria: a hound named “Fiona” and an English Setter. Fiona was tiny, but she was a hound. And hounds bay. And hounds run.
And the English Setter. He had peed all over himself. He obviously hated being where he was, but he crowded up to the chain link and made himself look tiny as he wagged his entire body in excitement. He had peed all over his bedding, his enclosure, himself. Did I mention that? He was yellow.
I met him. They called him “Ollie” which was a terrible name. He had one black ear like Mandy of so many years ago. He was a purebred. He was a breed of dog I was interested in. He was sweet.
When I filled out the paperwork, I was so nervous, I transposed my phone number. As a result, I never got a phone call that he was ready for me. I finally called the pound and asked, only to be informed that they could not reach me, so someone else was taking him home.
I was crushed.
Then, two days later, I got a surprise phone call: was I the woman who *really* wanted the English Setter? Because TWO different people had backed out of adopting him at the last minute, and he was slated to be put down.
That was almost two years ago.
Here he is. My buddy. I am not the greatest Dog Mom. I don’t have the energy required to take him on walks every single night. He is over-weight. He wags his tail with his whole body. He barks when he is excited or he wants to “tell” us something. He doesn’t bark at strangers or when the doorbell rings (that’s Murphy’s job). He’s not good with cats. He hates to ride in cars. He’s not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. He dances in circles when he thinks he is going to get to go on a walk. He knows how to “heel” but sometimes I have to remind him.
He lets me pull at his fur, cut his fur, clean his ears, and tend his wounds. He rubs his head on me and soils my dress slacks. He does not drool (that’s Murphy’s job). He runs away when he gets the chance and he does not look back. He loves wearing the shock collar and getting a gentle reminder that he is supposed to come back when I call him. He is collar-smart and knows when he does not have the collar on. He tries to dig his way out or climb over fences.
But he is ♥mine♥ and I am his.
“Oh, Mom, you are embarrassing me…”
Did I mention he *sighs* deeply when we are eating? It’s almost whining. And it is obnoxious. And I have to comb poop out of his fur? Or that his fur mats and I have to cut mats out of it weekly?
I was combing mats (and poop) out of his fur tonight when I decided to write about him. Despite the grooming, he’s brought me a lot of joy, my dog.
Harvey may like food more than he loves me. But he’s still my Pooka.
Oh – and to whoever dumped a purebred English Setter on the side of the road or lost one and didn’t go looking for him… He’s an awesome dog and you will never know what you missed out on. Your loss, my gain.
Yes, you and Harvey make good partners: Neither one of you drools, you’re both loyal and faithful. And cute.
Oh, thank you, Terry! So sentimental and sweet. Where have you been all my life? Oh. Wait. Nevermind.
I have tears in my eyes. What a sweet story.. I’ll think of you both whenever I have to comb poop out of Murphy’s little furry behind…
*like* – thanks Kelly! It will be a sentimental moment, I am certain. 😉
He is a beautiful dog and he’s lucky to have you – and you to have him.
Thank you Jodi. I think so.
What a sweet heart! I live in PDX with my crazy 2 year old English Setter, and whoa, is she a handful. Yours sounds like he has all the same traits as mine, including the running away and never looking back. Mine tends to get loose in the front yard at times, and then continues to bunny hop all over every neighbors front yard, up and down the street. But I love her so, and am greatful for all the fenced in dog parks around.
How funny, “Dremples”! I’ve read up a lot on the breed and they never mention the “run without a backward glance” trait. Nice to know I am not the only person with a “runner”! Where ARE the fenced in dog parks? I know of two near me and they are not fenced in. I’d love to take Harvey to a dog park to let him run (do other dog owners frown if you put a shock collar on them? I’d be able to call him back to me with one). He’s love the other dogs. I am so happy to hear someone else has a lovable English Setter. ♥
I doubt other dog owners would frown, but if they do, they just dont understand hunting dogs very well. 😎
I let Ellie free in the dog parks that are fenced, and she eventually comes back to me (after about 30-60 min of non stop running and playing) This was a very helpful link for me to find good parks in the NW: http://www.portlandpooch.com/dogparks/comparison.htm
Thank you for the link! I just went and browsed it – Tualatin Dog Park is close by. I drive by the one at Hazelia, but that fence is too short for my comfort (Harvey will climb). I foresee a dog park journey in our future.
By the way – your dog is beautiful (in your profile pic).
Thanks again!
We take Ellie to the Hazelia one over by Lusher Farms. Its a great place, the people there are always very friendly, as well as the dogs, but it can get a little dirty when its rained. I’ve never been to the Tualatin one, but it looks great! Have fun…and you Harvey is a beaut as well!
We’re going to brave either Hazelia or Tualatin tomorrow. Reminds me: I need to charge the dog collar “just in case”. I’ve been thinking about it all week, though, and I have a feeling it will be OK. Harvey needs to get out and run – he’s so overweight! And I need to try something that is not in my comfort zone. Meeting strangers is definitely out of my comfort zone (I’m fine online) 😉
We’ll see where my car goes tomorrow!
lol, good luck, I am sure you had a wonderful time. The weather was just so beautiful on Sunday, I hope you were able to get out with him and enjoy it.