Welcome to the family, Doc

by LynDee Walker of the Femmes Fatales.

“You don’t choose pets. They choose you.” My mom was fond of telling me this when I was a kid, and just like a million other things she told me, she was right. And somehow it stuck. 

From the sheltie I had as a child who had been abused by a man prior to finding us (we always said he was meant to be our dog, because it was just me and mom in our house) to my sweet tiny pom who was the runt of her litter but ran to me the fastest when we went to look at puppies, every dog I’ve ever had has chosen me. 

And so it was on Saturday, with a bit of “meant to be” thrown in. Meet Doc Walker, y’all, who’s snuggled up to me as I type this when Friday, I would’ve told you I still wasn’t sure I wanted a dog.

When we lost our Pomeranian in November of 2016, it just about did me in. She was my first “baby,” the dog I got for company when darling got a job that required him to travel more than he was home for the first few years of our marriage. Two and a half years after we buried her, I can’t sit here and write about her without tears blurring my screen. 

The littles started begging for a puppy almost immediately. “No,” I said. “I can’t do it again, the part at the end is too hard.” Sure, there are considerations about our crazy level of busy and finding a dog who’s a good fit for our family, but really, I didn’t want to lose another animal I adored. 

I guess there’s something to the whole age and wisdom thing, or maybe it’s just the passage of time, or both, because as my oldest again ramped up her arguments in favor of a puppy in the past two months, I’ve found myself thinking that if I were to avoid everything I feared would end badly or knew might cause me heartache, my life would be pretty boring. And I miss having a dog—I am decidedly a dog person, and this is the longest I’ve gone without one since the second grade. 

So we started looking at different dog breeds. We called breeders across Virginia to ask about temperaments and bloodlines and health issues. I grew more frustrated every day that common practice 20 years after last time we got a new dog is to choose a pet by its photo on the internet. 

“How can you tell if that puppy will even like you?” I asked. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t want to pick out a dog without meeting it!” 

When we called and asked to go meet puppies, we got the phone version of side-eye, and a few reluctant “okay…I guess”es—I didn’t get the impression people were hiding anything, just that we were weird for asking. 

But the real problem came when I researched myself into a corner: thanks to Google, by Saturday morning I was convinced there wasn’t a “good” breed to be had.

“The more I read, the more afraid I am to get a puppy,” I told darling. “Every breed has a long list of cons, it seems, and I’m tired of thinking about this. If I had read about poms on the internet before we got ours, we wouldn’t have gotten her because it says you should never ever have them in homes with children, and that they’re troublemakers.” (She was wonderful and patient and gentle with all three of our curious babies, and the only trouble she ever made was chewing the corners off our baseboards when she was teething). 

But back then, I didn’t research it—that decision went like this: Darling said, “I’m going to be gone Monday through Thursday for at least a year,” so I said, “then I want a dog,” and I opened the newspaper to the classifieds and found a listing for Pomeranian puppies because my aunt had a pom I loved when I was a child. My baby raced to me and I picked her up and she was part of our family for 16 years. 

“We don’t need an expensive purebred puppy,” I said. “I just wish we could find the dog we’re supposed to have.”

I opened my Facebook app and the first thing in my feed was an ad for adoptions at PetSmart, starting in 20 minutes. 

“Let’s go see if we can find a puppy who needs a home,” I said.

We walked up to a playpen full of black Beagadors (this is apparently the mashup name for a Beagle/Lab mix) who had been surrendered to the rescue agency at five weeks old. 

I stuck my hand into the playpen. 

Doc walked straight over and licked my fingers. Oldest little picked him up and he hid his little face in her neck. “Mommmmmyyyyy!” She grinned so wide I thought her face might split in two. 

I put my head on her shoulder near the puppy. “Hey tiny one. Would you like to come home with us?” I whispered. 

He turned his head and licked my nose. 

So we have a puppy. 

He’s fitting in nicely—playful and smart, it took about three seconds for him to get the hang of “fetch,” and he’s a good little writing buddy, spending his sleepy time snuggled next to me on the couch while I work on revising the new Faith McClellan novel. 

It turns out that sometimes, you can over-research. But fate—and dogs—usually won’t steer you wrong.

What about you, femmes and friends? How do your pets choose you?

Comments

[Barb Goffman]

I fell in love with Scout from his picture online. Of course I didn't commit until I met him, but my heart knew it was a done deal absent learning something really bad.

Jingle was a surprise at the shelter. When I walked up to his cage, he kept cocking his head, as if he was trying so hard to understand what I was saying. Too cute.

I can't say either dog chose me, but in both cases, our hearts knew a match when we met.

[Mark]

Congrats on the new puppy! No pets here thanks to my allergies.

[Susan Neace]

Our old dog died and the puppy we got next from the animal shelter came down with parvovirus the day after we got her. Despite our vets best effort we lost her. I announced that if we were supposed to have a dog it would have to come to us. On our Thanksgiving holiday we left the kid with grandma to do a little shopping. As we stepped onto the sidewalk at the mall a lady directly in front of us asked loudly if anyone wanted a free puppy. We named her Kharma

[Jeanie Jackson]

So happy you reached a point where you could bring a new baby into your home and that you chose a shelter dog. May you all have the joy in that relationship that you deserve.

[krisneri]

What a cutie! Congrats on the new baby, and good for you for choosing a rescue.