The day I picked up my puppy from the animal shelter it was pouring outside by the time we made it back to the house. After already wondering about the sanity of my Border Collie/ Husky mix because she jumped into the trunk of my sedan for her ride home, I absolutely knew I was going to be in for several life lessons on raising this animal.
Wooglin was my second dog that was completely my own. Sure the ex was part of the decision, went with me to pick her up; but it was my name on the paperwork. Cats aren’t an option, ever! The ex had one that would bite my goatee and lay on my stomach while I was watching television. The first part was annoying and I will admit for this exercise that it didn’t really bother me to have the cat crawl on me. [Good practice for kids!] But Wooglin, who came with the name Tonya, was insane on a new level.
I wasn’t thinking when I opened the door to the car. My mind was still wrapped around how my old dog behaved. If you could get her in the car, maybe she would come out later. Very timid pouch who had been abused in a way that would make anyone angry. Think shot in the backside and shaved for some reason that made no sense. But the hours she spent sitting in my lap [again another Collie] made life better.
Anyway, Wooglin took off for the other side of the neighborhood. Faster than anything I had seen, racing between yards she had never seen. Me dodging puddles as I tried to keep up with her progress. Yeah the electric fence was being install a few days later, but I wouldn’t have had time to train her on it during the ride home! House after house flew by. When you live in the woods, where yards are measured in acres, it can be quite the journey to catch up.
By the time I got the leash on her and trudged through the rain that was now blowing from all directions. August storms are fun things in Maryland. Not as bad as Florida, but when you live within miles of the beach they have some extra oomph at times. I’m soak through every bit of clothing. The parts of me that aren’t covered in mud are covered in grass clippings. The dog is now locked in the laundry room wrapped in bleach blankets because apparently the animal shelter forgot to tell me she freaks out when a hair dryer is started up.
I’m tired, worn out from a long day at work followed by the unexpected race for your life through the neighborhood and we still haven’t even thought about dinner. By 9 p.m. I’m typically a little grumpy about needing food, not an early bird special guy, but I don’t like to eat than go to bed!
Grilled Cheese and a bowl of Tomato Soup. The best of comfort foods according to the female half of this story. I had some other soup since Campbell’s Condensed is not even on my radar. Fortunately I always kept it around for her. Dinner decided, we flopped out on the couch trying to figure out if my toe is broken. [Never run in loafers!] Wooglin, whose new name had been decided before even picking her up is still wrapped in the beach towels but wandering the house trying to find her new resting spot. Too much hard wood for her, which I love watching her slide around on trying to gain traction. Only one room with carpet on the main floor, that’s where she flops down and closes her eyes.
August 5, 2005, the day we adopted a dog, was interesting. An impromptu marathon, dinner and a nap, the first steps towards a family?
Later, once the fence was installed, Wooglin tried to bolt again. Only this time she hit four different yards on my street that also had electronic deterrents. She would get shocked and run to the next house only to get shocked again. By the time I removed the collar so I could get her home safely, she was a mess. It took two days just to get her to go outside without having a leash on her. Lesson learned.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “An Odd Trio.”