Just when your mate thinks he knows you, surprise him. I did.
After years of saying I don’t want another dog until the one we have is gone, the matter was no longer up for discussion. In deference to me, my husband had passed up several opportunities to buy a new hunting pup.
One day during the long, cold winter I wrote in my prayer journal that if the Lord would bring us a dog, I’d surprise my husband and say yes. The next week my husband was offered a four-year-old German Wire-haired Pointer, a bearded, shaggy, some (me) might say "ugly" dog. It's a breed he's wanted for years. He turned it down and hung up the phone with a sigh.
I said, “Surprise. I think you should take it."
Jake, who had never been in a house before, came with a few challenges. More than a few. I’ve heard people complain about how stupid their dogs are, but that has never been my problem. I always end up with bright, intelligent, thinking dogs with tons of personality. TONS. I own the dogs who can plot and strategize. Jake is no different as this note to his previous owners may reveal.
Dear Kennel Master,
Thanks for sending me to this place.
We all live in the same indoor kennel. It sure beats the deep snow and frigid temperatures. I’m having fun even if the people are strange and rather excitable. The first few days every time I marked something, “Mom” would rush me out the door and re-mark it herself with some incredibly foul bleach. I wanted her to stop that so I tricked her. I quit marking in the house. Don’t worry. Despite all the grooming, I still can rub my back on the carpet and leave gobs of my hair around. Anyone with any kind of a nose, will know I live here now.
These people aren’t much for sharing. They don’t like me grabbing food from their hands, off their plates, and not even their counters when no one else is around. To my way of thinking, if they don’t want me to eat the stick of butter, they shouldn’t turn their back when reaching for another piece of toast. (As a side note: no matter how good the ham smells don’t taste it straight out of the oven. It bites back.)
They also don’t like to share underwear, towels, shoes, boots, batteries, or the ultra-soft easy to unroll very chewable tissue in the room with the off-limits water bowl.
There’s another dog here named Miles. He’s old and kind of stand-offish, but I keep biting him on the neck and he’s really warming up to me. Miles pretty much lets me do whatever I want, but he’s very possessive of the grandchildren. They’re a fun bunch and we get along well. It is hard to remember that the three-year-old is not a puppy when it acts like a puppy and I just want to play.
Miles did teach me to bark when I want inside. That’s handy, because even though I can open the door on my own, sometimes they lock it on me. Something about ‘letting the cold air and snow in.” Also they keep saying I need to learn “delayed gratification”. Do you know what this means?
Jake Get Down
Despite the learning curve, (his and ours), Jake is learning quickly and fitting into our home like a glove. A big hairy, stinky, sopping-wet-after-taking-a-drink gorilla glove. It’s a lot of work and I’m the one who is with him in this mutual 24-hour training camp. I can hear Father God up there laughing, “Surprise!”
He's a rascal, a rake, but he makes me smile and I can't image life without him now. This was reprinted from thebarndoor.net April 24 2014. Until next time....