I have always been an animal lover.
From the time I was inside of my mother’s tummy, there were dogs and cats around. I remember the first three cats we had as I grew up, along with our dogs Bootsie and Bob. I always played with them, pushing them around in baby doll strollers, spending hours outside playing fetch, and laughing as we chased them when they ran away.
My husband and I have lived together for the majority of our seven years together. We have inhabited basements, futon couches, and finally with a house of our own. As soon as we moved the last box in, I knew that it was time to initiate the conversation of finally having a pet of our own. No fish. No lizards. No hamsters. I was ready for the responsibility of a real live, breathing, kicking, barking, pooping puppy!
Of course, telling my hubby that I was ready for our puppy was the easy part. I had been on him to start looking at puppies with me since we married in July ’08, but he was always a little apprehensive, saying that we needed to find the perfect dog for our family. Unlike my husband, I am impulsive and such an animal lover that every dog I passed was “the perfect dog for us.”
The weeks came and went and as we heard about numerous puppies that were being born and bred, I kept on thinking about the new addition to our family that I yearned for so badly. With little help from my husband, I ran ads on Craigslist, searched relentlessly on the Animal Protective League Web sites, and when the time came that I could finally drag him to the pound, we searched through the cages of homeless pets.
We found a beagle that we immediately loved. We were looking for a small dog, with no particular breed in mind and as soon as I saw its shy demeanor, I wanted to break him out of his shell. We played with him for at least an hour, toying with the idea of bringing him home, but it didn’t happen. We left with everyone that came and not one more.
We waited another few months. I was desperate. I was obsessed with finding our new family member and as every day went by, I grew less optimistic. One day in April we received a call from my sister in law, telling us that her brother in law had a pregnant Chow and asked if we wanted to look at them after they were born and see if we wanted to take one home with us. We immediately said yes and as time went on, it was always in the back of my mind, but I continued my search on the Internet, in the newspaper, and by word of mouth.
In May, we received a call that we were able to go out to see the pups. We were told they weren’t able to be weaned from the mother yet, but after six weeks, we could take one home if we decided. I was apprehensive. I would rather rescue a dog than pay for one. I was nervous. Are we really ready to take on this responsibility? I was scared. I wonder how we will pay for all the shots and food.
We made our fifteen minute trip to his farm to the see the pups and I immediately fell in love with the little poof balls. There were five in all and as I held them each and fell in love each time, I was torn as to which one would be ours. My husband is a very manly man, but as I saw his heart melt when he picked up the all white polar bear puppy, I knew it was a match made in heaven. I still have the first picture of that little white pup, eyes closed with tiny ears and the purest white I have ever seen.
