I’ve always liked dogs. Growing up in rural Mississippi, we had outside dogs, and my daddy had some hunting dogs. Our dogs weren’t allowed inside, unless it was a really cold day, which didn’t happen very often in south Mississippi.
My fondest memories are of our collie named Butchy. We got him when he was a little puppy, and he was the best dog. The minute we walked outside, he was by our side. Our yard wasn’t completely fenced in, and he wandered too close to the road one foggy night and was hit by a car. My sisters and I were so heartbroken that we couldn’t bear to have another dog after that.
Fast forward to living in a northern suburb of Pittsburgh, PA, with two kids. They started asking for a dog when they were about five and seven. My husband and I reminded them that dogs need to exercise daily, even in snow and freezing cold. And it would be messy to have a dog in the house. They would bring up the idea every now and then, usually after a visit to my sister’s and playing with her dog, Bandit.
So, we bought them fish. Of course, the kids were quick to point out that fish are not “pets.” Though this is a story for another time…
Then, we moved to Austin, TX. The kids were 13 and 11. After a couple of 100-degree days, my son Micah said to us, “Is it hot enough here to have a dog?” Our parental words of wisdom had come back to haunt us. Our son went so far as to prepare a presentation of why he and his sister needed a dog. We caved.
The kids started out wanting a puggle, until they realized a designer dog was expensive. They settled on looking at rescue puppies. With some influence from my sister, they started looking for a border collie puppy like Bandit. They checked the rescue website daily. One day in November, the post they had been waiting for appeared. A border collie had nine puppies. Every day they checked to see if there were new pictures or videos. They picked out the puppies from the litter they liked best.
My husband and I knew the puppies would be adopted quickly. We decided we should go and get the first choice. My son was homeschooled, so we took a ride one weekday to pick out our puppy while our daughter was in school. This is still a sore point with her. Our son had notes about which ones they both liked. He seemed a bit nervous about the situation, and we told him that sometimes the dog picks the owner.
We met the foster mom and her two, large German shepherds, who turned to putty as soon as Micah showed them attention. We then focused on the nine bundles of energy, jumping on the baby gates meant to keep them contained. Micah leaned down to pet one or two of the “chosen.” They scratched and nipped at him.
We noticed that one of the puppies with black fur and some brown markings just sat by the gate. While the others were jumping, he walked away from the crowd. Then he sauntered back to the gate. My son noticed that he was calm and seemed interested. I told him he could pick up the puppy. He did and little Brando laid his head on my son’s shoulder. With teary eyes, Micah looked at me and said, “I think he’s the one.”
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