Need is a funny word. It implies that the thing we are hoping to acquire is directly related to our existence. We would simply perish without it. So yes, I probably didn’t need a third dog. No, scratch that. I definitely didn’t need a third dog on that warm August day in 2011. The big brown eyes staring back at me from the computer monitor suggested otherwise.
I looked down at the basset hound stretched out on the floor below me, my foot idly stroking his white and brown fur. “What do you think, Tuck? Do we need another friend?”
Tucker thumped his tail and rolled over onto his back so that his belly was fully exposed for proper petting. If you wanted a happy, ready-for-anything, easy going dog Tucker was your guy. I was certain he’d love a new friend. A more playful friend. Maggie was great as far as companions went, but the dopey little French bulldog with his smooshed up face wasn’t what you’d call exciting. We’d ask his opinion after he woke up from his six hour nap.
The dog on the screen continued to stare back at me. The name below the photo read “Sadie.” A young German shepherd mix. She looked sad and a little lost. Over the years I’d browsed countless shelter dogs. There was something different about this particular one.
The next morning, with Tucker and both of my children in tow, we took a trip to the animal shelter. Barking rang off the walls, the dogs eager to come out and play. Sadie sat in a kennel on the edge of the row. While the other dogs jumped and barked Look at me! Look at me! she sat perfectly still. Her brown eyes were wide and still very puppy-like. One ear stood straight up and the other flopped down. One sad thump of her tail was all it took. I wanted to be the owner of three dogs.
I had successfully been the proud and loving owner of two small-ish dogs for the past seven years. Owning a large dog was going to be easy.
“Load up!” I swung open the back door to my old Land Rover and said the words I’d heard my dad command our labs with when I was growing up. They’d jump up in the back and stay there. My big dog would too. I picked up Tucker, who would have been more than happy to load up had his stubby basset hound legs allowed it, and set him in the cargo area.
“Load up, Sadie!” I said the words again, being sure to add a bit more excitement to my voice as I eagerly patted the space beside Tuck. She lept in and sat down neatly. Mission accomplished, I slid into the front seat and started to back out of the parking lot. My backing up was interrupted by the loud giggles and shrieks of my children. A glance upward into the rearview mirror and I saw the front half of a German shepherd neatly wedged between two carseats and hanging over the back seat. The lower half of the German shepherd was still in the cargo area frantically trying to join the front.
“Sadie! Sit!” I blindly waved an arm towards the back seat hoping she’d listen. That particular trick never worked on my children, but maybe Sadie was more cooperative.
Nope.
One last push and a shove and her entire body was smashed between the two car seats and the laughing children. Fine. She could ride in the back seat. Once again I threw the Land Rover in reverse determined to take my new dog home. Once again she twisted her large body and scrambled over a seat.
“Just this once.” I looked over at the big, happy dog residing in the passenger seat beside me. “Dogs ride in the back.”
She didn’t buy it.
We got home and Sadie bounded out of the car and into the house. Gone was the shy dog sitting in the end kennel. This dog wanted to play! And play she did, chasing Tucker and the kids through the house and up and down the stairs. I followed in their wake, making sure nothing was broken and wondering what I’d gotten myself into. At one point Maggie stumbled out, gave the new dog an unimpressed look, and then went back to sleep, as French bulldogs have a tendency to do.
The people at the animal shelter told me Sadie had never been in a house before. I was fine with this. I assumed her previous owners had her sleep in the garage or something similar. But when they said never, they meant never. As she explored the house Sadie jumped on couches and climbed on the chairs. We had a strict “No Dogs on the Couch” rule, so naturally Tucker followed her. She tore through the curtains and rolled in the bed. She climbed on the cupboards to get food that didn’t belong to her (we were sick of eating zucchini bread anyway) and stood on the kitchen table to watch me out the window every time I went outside. I probably would have been horrified if I hadn’t been so busy laughing. Her excitement was contagious.
“Sadie, down!” I tried to keep my voice firm but laughter kept bubbling up. Sadie leapt down from the piece of furniture she had currently conquered and jumped up at my hip to wrap her legs around my waist. Experts will tell you not to allow your dog to do this. I’ll tell you that it’s nearly impossible to not hug a happy dog back.
As the day grew on it had become very obvious that I needed to get my new dog and my young children out for some fresh air.
“I don’t suppose you’ll sit in the back?” Sadie cocked her head to one side, the ear that couldn’t quite stand up flopping down even father. With a roll of my eyes I opened the passenger door and she happily climbed in and faced forward, my furry co-pilot waiting to see where we were off to next.
We drove to the hike/bike trail outside of town. Tucker and I had been here many times, but never to run. Darn those stubby basset hound legs. Plus I think he was a little scared of the swans. So I was very excited to try running with a more athletic dog. I loaded the kids up in the double stroller and put Sadie’s brand new pink leash and collar on her. The leash, like the house, was a bit foreign to her. But she was eager to please and figured it out fairly quickly. We walked a bit, making sure we had the whole leash thing under control, before I started to run. I was very excited to have a running buddy. This is going to be great! I thought as we took off down the hike/bike trail. My kids happily riding in the stroller in front of me. My dog running at my side. My dog sitting on top of my kids in the stroller while I pushed all three.
Wait, what?
I came to an abrupt stop and looked at the stroller. There sat 70 pounds of Sadie, happy as can be, directly on top of my two laughing children. She looked up at me expectantly, no doubt wondering why we had stopped the fun ride. This little game went on for the better part of a mile before she realized running beside me was more fun. Our footsteps hit the sidewalk in sync as she kept pace with me. We ran two more miles that day, the start to the thousands of miles we’ll log over the years.
The end of the first day with our new dog came and everyone was sleeping soundly in their beds. I had bought Sadie a very large, very fancy dog bed and left it in the living room with Tucker and Maggie’s beds. It was quite late in the night when I heard the soft footsteps of a large dog creeping up the steps. She snuck into my bedroom and I could sense her watching me a moment before she took her cool, damp nose and nudged it under my hand as it hung off of the bed. It was just a small nudge, something she will do countless times in the middle of the night over the next nine years. But it spoke volumes. You’re still here, right? it said and I patted the large flat spot between her ears. Yep. I’m still here.
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