My baby is almost 6 years old. He's a sweet, spoiled, loved boy. We've weathered the storm of gluten allergies, corn intolerance, and picky eating. We've come out the other side a team. A momma and her boy. And we are very content to be this way. He's happy being an only 'child' and socializing with other puppy friends then coming home to cuddle on the couch. Just the two of us. Two peas in a pod. Used to our routine. Very happy with the life we've built for each other. So why rock the boat?
A year and a half ago, he lost his best friend. Sammi was the first puppy my family ever had. We lived in apartments my whole life. We had guinea pigs. Gerbils. A rabbit. But never a dog. My aunts had dogs. My uncle had dogs. My nana had dogs. But never us. So when my sister showed up with a 'free' puppy just before her senior year of high school, it was pretty exciting. Sammi technically didn't live with us at first, but that didn't last long. Nor did my sister's interest in her puppy. She quickly became the apple of her gramma's eye. My mom walked her. Feed her. Cuddled with her. Loved her. My mom even moved so Sammi could live with us officially. My sister may have picked the puppy out and given her a name...but Sammi belonged to her gramma. And no one argued with that, least of all gramma or Sammi.
Sammi was 8 when I 'obtained' Patrick. Patrick was about 18 months. He was loud. He was rowdy. He was a lot for a then 8 year old to handle. But she did. She put him in his place immediately, and the two became fast friends. She played with Patrick. She put up with his nipping, his barking, his need to be the little Napoleon his is. She taught him how to be a part of our pack. She was very tolerant to this high strung little thing one of her other alphas brought into her pack. Sammi was the perfect mentor to my boy.
At the age of 12, Sammi got sick. A cure was just not in the cards. And for a few weeks we watched her fade away. Losing my sweet puppy was as hard on Patrick as it was for me. The first time we went to my mom's, it was so hard to watch Patrick roam around looking for his friend. Even harder was knowing I couldn't make him understand. He moped around for weeks. I made the decision that it was time to seriously consider expand our family.
And what a process that has been. Being a single, working woman with a constantly busy schedule...timing was everything. I knew I wanted a younger, small to medium sized, male dog. The photos on the rescue sites are endless. So were my fears of whether Patrick would accept a new member to our pack. Even though my mom found a new friend, Patrick was not thrilled with Ami. She's very hyper, and young, and plays hard. He's become slowly less social. Not as friendly to other dogs when we walk. I knew it would take a special friend to make this work. And I knew that I had about about a year or so before Patrick's age would make this even more difficult. This summer was finally the right time to put an honest effort into finding a new friend...And then I met 'Chipmunk'.
Chip has not lived an easy life. He was saved from certain death along side his brother and sister by a good Samaritan who heard whimpering from a burning pit. The three little rat terrier/beagle mixes were stranded, starving, and almost on fire. They guessed they were about 6 weeks old. They had to be separated to find then foster homes, and two of them made the trek from Kentucky to Minnesota. A few days into his first foster home, it was clear something was not right. He was rushed to the vet where he was diagnosed with Parvo. The little guy was even closer to the Rainbow Bridge than when he was rescued. He was a resilient little rascal. After being released from tree ICU, he needed a place to go where he could be separated from other animals and everyone was vetted. In walks my aunt...again. She had 'Chip' for a week before bringing him to Easter dinner. She had a hunch he might be just what I was looking for. Somehow a young, medium male dog turned into a small, male, actual puppy. He was nothing I was looking for...and then my aunt put him in my arms. I was done for.
At 10 weeks old, Patrick and 'Chip' met for the first time. I've never been so nervous. I was smitten with this little guy, but if Patrick had any problems at all, I would walk away. As his protector, he's my first concern. Patrick was curious who this puppy was, but he mostly ignored him. Until we went on a walk. We met another dog (usually a dicey meeting). The puppy was more than happy to say hi. Patrick watched. Then decided to get closer. The puppy wondered to smell a tree, and Patrick almost ripped his leash out of my hands to get to him to heard him back. They even played when we got back in the house. This crazy puppy idea was actually working. After that first meeting, I made the decision to make this little guy a part of our family.
'Chipmunk' wasn't going to work. But Marco will. And sweet little Marco will be officially joining our family this week. This transition thankfully has been able to be a little slower than most adoptions. We've been able to do this in terms both Patrick and Marco have been comfortable with. Both boys have had a little time to get to know each other. We've all had time to transition to being a family of 3. I now have an almost 6 year old Parsons Terrier/boxer and a 12 week old rat terrier/beagle/(we're pretty sure Bassett hound) mix. For those keeping score, that's a 6 year old smart, high strung with kick of high strung as well as a baby high strung escape artist. I have clearly lost my mind. And I'm going to love every minute of it.
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