A New Leash on Life

“Bob,” I said plaintively in early November, 2021 “I want to get a puppy.”   The response I got was not what I’d hoped for, but was not exactly unexpected: nothing, not a word.  I think he hoped if he ignored me, I’d go away.  A day or two later, I tried again but this time got this verbal response: “I don’t want a dog, Barb.”  Undaunted, I recognized I’d need a more sophisticated, strategic approach if I hoped to move this discussion along.

After two years of pandemic restrictions, the absence of frequent and joyful contact with others had begun to take its toll on me.  I rarely saw my children and grandchildren; my friends, most of them ‘at risk’ seniors, were also limiting their social interactions.  I began to long for a constant and loving companion.  I watched enviously as people walked their dogs outdoors; it broke my heart to see dogs in the park joyfully chasing the ball master threw for them.  I always carried dog treats in my pockets and shamelessly tried to insert myself into their activities by offering the dog a treat.  One of my greatest delights was encountering that dog a few days later, watching her recognize and eagerly approach me for a cookie.  Of course, I knew it was the treat that drew her to me, but I felt we had developed a personal relationship.

My daughter, who lives in British Columbia, has had a series of dogs over the years.  I’ve come to love each one and miss them when I go back to Ontario.  Kristy has urged me to get my own but I never considered it seriously til the pandemic created my lonely lifestyle.  One night when talking to Kristy on the phone, I told her thought I was ready to get my own dog but that Bob, her stepfather, was unwilling.  “Well mom,” she said “if you want a dog, you should just get one.  You’re not getting any younger, you know.”  Never known for cryptic commentary, she has always taken a brutally blunt approach with me, but has always been my ally. “I’m gonna find some reputable dog breeders in your area and get back to you.”

“But Kristy, I don’t need a purebred, designer dog.  I could just go to the Humane Society and pick one out.” Her rather condescending retort was to ask me what characteristics I would want in a dog. After a few minutes I responded that I thought I’d like a small-ish dog, but not a miniature breed, a dog about 20-30 pounds when fully mature would be ideal.  I’d also like it to have short-hair and be low shedding; hypo-allergenic would be a bonus, and it should be gentle, loving and smart. With exaggerated patience  she argued “you’re never going to get all those features in a dog you find at the Humane Society, mom.  The only way you’ll get a dog like that is to find one who’s been bred to have those features.”