The Year of the Puppy

Every night, during the months-before-vaccine of Covid, I looked for puppies online.  I had a certain one in mind, something black and white, a breed that ended with poo.  When what we are looking for doesn't show up, or is way too expensive, we sometimes don't see what does show up. 

I will be forever grateful to my friend, Janet Oglethorpe, for scanning SNIPSA's site with fresh and wise eyes and sending me a picture of a dog who was, she said, already "my dog."  

But she's not a puppy!  "Don't get a puppy," she wisely advised me.  "Get a grown-ass dog."

As for color and breed and lineage, Janet knew before I did that none of that mattered.  

She found Luci online on the infamously memorable January 6th.  She grabbed her as a foster dog until she could introduce us.  

On January 7th, when she called to say she'd found MY dog, I hesitated.  January 6th had gutted me.  And I didn't yet have a fence.  

Nevertheless, she persisted.

On January 8th, she said, "I have to take her back today unless you want her.  Can I just stop by and introduce you two?"

In came this adorable little copper and white dog with a tail one observer has since called "resplendent."  Having just had surgery so as not to produce any more puppies that could wind up in shelters like she had, she was not particularly active.  She sat beside Janet and on her lap.

And then I picked her up!  She curled up in my lap, a tiny circle of fur, looking for all the world like a newborn fawn.  Then she put her head on my shoulder--that did it!

She was my ten-pound shadow, following me from room to room, curling up beside the bathtub when I bathed, standing between my legs as I made dinner.  Small as she was, she jumped all the way from floor into my bed and slept beside me.  The rest is happy history!

If you are inclined to get a puppy--or know anyone who is--you must buy Alexandra Horowitz' book, The Year of the Puppy." 

Ironically, just when I was writing that sentence, a family from the end of my street, along with a visiting grandmother named Lucie, knocked to show me their new little one-pound puppy, Remi--who loves following his new brother Moochoo, around the house.  

There is probably nothing cuter in the animal kingdom than a puppy!  

Luci was probably 10 months old when I got her, past chewing on furniture and whining all night and peeing on the floor.  On the first day she did chew up my favorite leather pocket book and a phone case, but I told her that was not allowed, and she never did it again.  Based on her laid-back and sweet personality, after reading this book, I'd say that her dog mama was very attentive and gentle with her.  And that whoever her first human people were taught her good manners.  

If you're a little on the older side, with no kids in the house to play with, and you want to take your dog with you everywhere, I'd suggest this formula: ten pounds, ten months.