They Choose Us

I've been doing some thinking about breeds, types of dogs and cats, and preferences that people keep, myself and Alan included. Saying that we love Golden Retrievers is an understatement. Clearly, we are Golden Retriever fanatics. We also love the Great Pyrenees, Newfs, St. Bernards, Chow Chows, pits, and the list goes on. Last fall, we decided a Newfoundland would be our next dog. Two dogs later, we do not have a Newf, and that's because sometimes they choose us.

Alan said, "No dog for at least another year," and this was last fall before we got Quincy. I had a feeling we were going to fall in love at the pet expo, but Alan insisted this was not true. He never looks at shelter dogs or adoptables, because he feels bad for them and doesn't want to fall in love with one. When we saw Quincy's litter at the BFF rescue at the expo, we did think they were Newf mixes upon first sight. We weren't the only ones, either. Even our vet thought we had a Newf mix on our hands! I picked up Quincy, and she nuzzled her head into the crook under my chin. She gave me some puppy kisses and held on for life. We stood there for ten minutes until Alan gave in and admitted he was already attached too. Even though the rescue said she was a Border Collie mixed with "anything," at that point Quincy had already picked us as her people.
I have never been into Border Collies, and would never have thought of myself as a BC mama, but here I am with one.

After Wembley passed away, the pain was unbearable, especially for me. I lost my sidekick. We decided to wait until spring to find a Newf puppy or rescue for our family. That seemed like it was months away. I casually browsed rescues, looking at the same breeds I always look at: Goldens, Chows, and Newfs. There were many cute dogs, but in my grief I was not feeling much. I just wanted another sidekick, knowing full well it would not a princess girl like my Wembley. Then I found Walter, a lost soul, unwanted and sad. Our "Newf puppy" ended up being a disabled senior Chow/Golden mix. I never thought I would have a boy dog either, and here we are with the best boy in the whole world.

The same thing applies to the cats. We didn't think we would have any cats, much less three! Now we have this perfect pack of six, and we are incredibly blessed to have this mish-mash of personalities.

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Small Surprises

There is nothing quite like an unexpected critter. This is definitely our last one, per our critter family agreement. We visited Delina and Gary over the weekend, and Alan fell in love with their new kitten, Claire. He was a cat person before he was a dog person, and sometimes that guy comes out, especially when there's kittens involved, so another kitten was his idea. We decided to get one from Midland County Animal Control for many reasons, one being that they use the gas chamber to euthanize their animals, and the other that they kill most of the kittens that come through their doors. Alan wanted to pick out this one, so we went on the website and he found one that he liked.

I called early and asked if they had the kitten, and the woman on the phone said yes, so I told her we wanted to adopt it. She told me to come over and called the kittens "little monsters". When I got there, some lady was at the front desk bitching up a storm to the deputy about some man that apparently poisoned her dogs with antifreeze, and that she couldn't pay $1000 to save them. It was totally awkward for me to be standing there, but I didn't know what else to do. Finally, the woman came out from behind a door and lead me to the back. A white pit bull gazed at me with sad eyes. A rottweiler mix stared; dogs barked and barked hoping to be let out. She grabbed the kitten out of the cage and left me in the "quiet room" with her.

The quiet room was not quiet. Instead, it was filled with howls and cries of fear from the dogs trapped in small cages. My heart was pounding, knowing the unfortunate fate of those poor souls. I waited and waited, bonding with the kitten. She crawled all over me, purring, climbing onto my shoulders and nestling her tiny self into my hair. The kitten she gave me was not the kitten Alan wanted, but a different one, but the woman had not told me this. It was hard to tell because the photo was so dark, and they are both gray and white tabby cats. The plan was if the kitten Alan wanted wasn't there, that I had to call him.

Finally, the lady came back and said, "You know that isn't the kitten in the picture." Why would she tell me on the phone that kitten was available, give me a different one, and THEN tell me? I knew Alan wanted to know if that one wasn't available, but after bonding with this girl, how could I turn my back?

After jumping through some crazy hoops that included calling my vet and pre-paying for a spay (can't take the cat home until the spay is paid for), the little girl was ready to go home. The deputy said, "Good luck with this one. She is wild."

We named her Rhodesia (Zimbabwe's name when it was just a republic)--Rhoda for short. She is very small and purrs constantly. She loves to be held, and is of course incredibly curious. And oh my, she is just SO small it boggles my mind. Piper was only a pound when I found her at work, so I am anxious to see how much Rhoda weighs, because she seems smaller.

The other critters are reacting like they usually do to a new addition. Reagan wants to play, Quincy is nurturing and also wants to play, Walter unfortunately has a very strong prey drive and wants to eat her right now, which will change when she gets bigger. Piper follows her everywhere and occasionally bats lightly at Rhoda, and Aurora (that diva) is currently pissed off, which she will get over eventually.

Alan is in LOVE. I adore seeing him hold her and pamper her. Rhoda is a good fit.

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