Dog

Our family's reputation is a bit sketchy when it comes to dogs. I grew up with Fluffy, a mut who was waiting anxiously for me when my mom brought me home from the hospital. She lived a good, full life...free to roam and happy to return. She died of old age when I was 9 years old. Then there was Sniffer. Some hunting breed. Hyper as heck and impossible to train. She got adopted out.

Ben also had two dogs growing up. The first, Rusty (part beagle, part terrier?), was a fun little dog who lived with them for about a year but never learned to look both ways before crossing the street. Much much later when Ben was in high school they got a shelty named Shelly (creative) and that lasted until Ben left for college. As soon as he was out of hearing range his mom found a new home for Shelly.

Ben LOVES dogs. I could go either way...although I didn't realize that until 3 failed attempts at dog ownership after we were married. Our first was a golden retriever, adopted after only about a year of marriage and left alone all day because we were both working full-time. Her name was "Roo" (like from Winnie the Pooh) and she was sweet but incredibly hyper. She piddled when the mailman dropped the mail in our box. She was never fully potty trained and after we had Emma it was too much for me. She went to a farm in the country where she could run and play (no, really...there was a farm where she could run and play). Next came "Bo"...an animal shelter rescue and I picked him out. I can't quite remember what went wrong with Bo but we never bonded. And he ended up with some friends of ours (he died shortly after, sorry about that). Then Ben got it into his head that we should get a cool breed, like a Rhodesian Ridgeback...African origin, bred to hunt lions, with a ridge up his back where the hair grows in the opposite direction. We got a deal from a breeder in Texas. Our Ridgeback was ridgeless. We named her "Honey" (which was a little confusing b/c that is also what Ben and I call each other). She was hyper. She ate sandwiches off the counter and hunted Anna Grace (who was 2 years old at the time). The collective eyes of our friends and family were rolling back in their heads. It took us less than a year to figure out that we were not cut out for this. Honey went to a fellow Ridgeback owner. They called her a rescue. That didn't make us feel very good.

We were total failures and we knew it. And just in case we might forget, there was always someone standing close by to remind us.

About 5 years went by and we moved to Asheville. I started talking about getting a dog. Ben couldn't quite believe it. He said that if we got a dog, it would have to be my doing because he didn't want to be held responsible when the dog started driving me mad. It is the hair that really makes me crazy. I HATE swiffering dog hair every single day. I begin resenting the hair-producer. Well, we had recently met a family who had a labradoodle. That's a lab/poodle mix. Strange but true. No shedding. Now, I'm not a big fan of the poodle but these dogs are cute! Seriously. So I found a breeder (http://labradoodlebreedersc.com/ ... totally cheesy sight but you get the idea) and we filled out an application and amazingly they approved us. Winston was born on November 17, 2005.

He is all black. I am in love with him. My friends cannot believe it. They keep asking how this could have happened. It's a dog after all. What's the deal? All I can say is that he is precious. I baby talk him. I let him sleep on the bed with us. I feed him pork loin. Caleb bought him a kiddie pool this summer. We put him in an up-scale doggie day care when we go away. And I call to check on him. Some people practice on a pet and then when they have children they know what they're doing. We did the opposite. Winston, for one, will grow up to be perfectly well-adjusted, able to give and receive love with his boundaries firmly in place.

He does totally annoying things...he eats Emma's flip flops and cannot chill out when we have guests. He doesn't always listen to the "come" command. He barks his head off at his reflection in the window. He pulls on the leash when we try to walk him. He likes not-yet-laundered underwear. He begs at the table. And will not shut up when we take him on car rides. He failed puppy manners class. (They gave him a diploma, but who were they kidding?) I actually cried.

But he waits expectantly for us to come home. He runs away but when he comes home he is a happy puppy who doesn't realize he's been naughty. He cocks his head when we say unfamiliar words in baby-talk. He is SO soft. And his hair turns to dreadlocks when he hasn't been groomed in awhile. He runs to the neighbors and steals their dog toys, bringing them back like a prize to be cherished...like the toy was meant for him in the first place. He exemplifies unconditional love. He always expects good things and never fears us. He is independent, not needy except when there's a storm. Then he follows me around or hangs out under Ben's desk. He is absolutely predictable, never in a bad mood and always ready to enjoy my company. Even when I'm unenjoyable.

When we were waiting for Winston to be born I would pray with the kids and ask God to choose the perfect dog for our family. Caleb thought this was ridiculous..."God doesn't care which dog we pick." I can understand his skepticism, but I think he's been converted.