The Garage Sale Dog

             After taking the children to school one morning, I saw a sign for a garage sale.  I was at the time into collecting old records and bells.  I decided to stop on the way back and see if I could find these items.  It was early and not everything was put out yet.  The lady holding the garage sale kept going in and out of the house bringing things out.  I wasn't the only one stopping early.  The theory on this was, stop early and find the best deals.  Or at least, I thought that was the case.

                I felt an apology necessary, “I hope you don’t mind my coming early.”

                “No.  Not at all!  Just look around and see if you find what you want.  If not, simply ask as I may just not have it out yet."

                It proved to be what I thought; a useless stop.  And so it was for others stopping.  They left before me.  But then, I saw a large box under a tree.  I walked over and saw three little black puppies inside.  I reached out and started to rub one.  The lady had everything out now and saw me bent over the box rubbing a puppy.

                “Would you like a puppy?” she asked.

                “No, we have a dog,” I answered.  “But thank you anyway.”

                I had opened myself up for conversation.  Before I left, I took with me a little black male Labrador retriever puppy.  I didn’t need another dog.   But I still was sure this little fellow would be accepted by the children and husband.  And so, it came about as Scotty became a member of the family.  I wonder how many pets a person can own in a life time.  There always seems to be room for another.

                Scotty did not become an inside dog.  Our other dog, Zundel, was not one either.  The big size dogs lived outside.  Since we had just bought our house, we didn’t yet have a fenced in back yard.  Zundel never went beyond the yard.  She was an older dog now and was more settled in her ways.  Scotty wondered away.  He was always back for feeding though.  We kept fresh water out.  And of course, the food was given at the time of his coming for it.

                I couldn’t wait until that fence was put up around the back yard.  I figured Scotty was becoming a nuisance to some of the neighbors.  Besides, both dogs need that fenced yard.  I couldn’t see chaining either dog.  It seemed wrong.  But I guess others might see allowing a dog to run free as wrong too.  We can’t and don’t always make the right decisions.

                An appointment with a fence company was made.  Because of a heavy back load, it would be a week before the fence would go up.  The fence did finally go up, and one dog would call the back yard its home.  Zundel, who went nowhere, was put in the fenced yard.  But where was Scotty?  He failed to come home.

                I wonder to this day whatever happened to Scotty.  I know after his disappearance and the passing of Zundel, we never got another dog. There are so many ways of disappearing.  There is picked up by a dog pound.   There is an attack by other animals.  There’s the abuse by someone.  And so; the list can go on.  Sometimes it is better not to know.  You can hope the best happened.  He was a pretty dog.  He was so healthy.  I am in hopes that his disappearance came from someone who really cared about dogs and took him as their own.  But still, I wonder, as closure to this day has not come.

Two In One

            It was the early seventies.  When a friend’s poodle, Christopher, had died, she couldn’t wait to get another dog.  Many people find replacing an animal hard to do.  But the friend was married to a workaholic.  After work, her husband attended night classes at an area College.  She was lonely as it was the only way to explain it.  The dog had become a companion.  When visiting her before Christopher’s death, he was all she could talk about.  But then there was talk no more of him, but replaced by tears.  And so when she asked me to go with her to a town several miles from where we lived to purchase a dog, I did agree to go.

            She had learned of pure-bred Spitz puppies for sale through the newspaper.  She had called and sat up a time to go see them.  She had intentions of leaving that day with her a Spitz puppy.  It was a different cry from a gray male poodle she had.

            I had a dog and getting another was not in my plans.  I went only as a friend.   But when seeing the puppies, she suggested I get one.  It was hard to resist the long, thick white fur and pointed ears and muzzle.

            “They’re only twenty-five dollars, she said, “You can afford that!”

            I don’t know how she did it, but I was an easy sell.  Not only did she walk away that day with a new puppy, but so did I.  I didn’t need the dog.  What was I thinking?  The only response by my husband was, “We didn’t need another dog.  We already have one.”

            In the next several weeks to follow, I took care of the dog I named Spitz.  It was like two in one.  I had the breed and the name.  I think maybe my naming the dog from his breed was because I knew I should never have gotten him.  The friend on the other hand loved her new dog.  She began to fill the void that Christopher had left with her new male dog, Spencer.  While on the other hand, I never felt close to Spitz.  I did get all shots for him and had every intention of keeping him.  But my love was always shown to my anniversary gift, my dog Zundel.  This was not fair to Spitz.

            One day I made the decision to find a new owner for Spitz.  I too advertised in the paper hoping to find Spitz a new owner.  I did not charge for him.  I merely stated free and had all shots.  The first call came from a newly married young couple.  They were much like we were once upon a time.  Over the telephone the woman was very talkative, happy, and thrilled to take the dog.  Upon meeting the couple, I knew they would give Spitz a good home.  Upon their leaving, my husband said, “You did the right thing.”

            I never regretted giving Spitz to a new owner.  I was certain that he had found a good home.  After all, the price was right.

            As for my friend, she kept her dog.  When she and her husband moved to Chattanooga, I lost contact with her.  But knowing her, she kept good care of Spencer much like she had Christopher.  It has been so many years since I last saw her and her husband.  They never had children.  And to many people, a pet does become one’s baby.  Knowing how she is, she has a deep love for dogs.  I can’t ever imagine her being without one.

What's In a Name?

Zundel at 6 years old with our first born child.

            It’s like naming your baby.  A pet in many cases is your baby.  You come up with that name that will last a life time.  A baby generally gets that most popular name given newborns at the time.  But a pet comes from oneself.  It’s like your own original idea.  The popular names out there may be your Bingo, Fido, and Lassie.  But you’re not looking for one of them.  And so; it was the case with my wedding gift.  We were just married and far from considering having that baby.

            “What can I get you for your first year anniversary?” asked my new husband.

            “But I don’t want anything,” I assured him.  “You’re all I need.”

            But he questioned further and simply wouldn’t take no for an answer.

            “Okay, I’ve always wanted my own puppy.”

            And so it was, we went to the only place we knew that we thought would have what we wanted.  We made a trip to the humane society.  We saw all the puppies and even grown dogs they had to offer.  We had plans of not leaving that day until we adopted one.  A puppy was what we came for and so we focused on them.  The perfect puppy would jump out at us.  And she did.  There was a puppy more active than the rest.  Where the paper came from, I had no idea.  But this one puppy was chewing on a piece of paper.  It was a little black puppy.  I never asked the breed.  She was the one I wanted and that was all that mattered at the time.

            “I want that one.”  I said.  I never dreamed that the chewing on the paper would wind up being a dog who would like to chew on things.  Marriage was a new thing to me.  And being an owner of my own dog was too.  Time would take care of both.

            “What do you want to name her?” asked my husband.  “It’s your dog and the naming is yours too.”

            “It’s Zundel!”  I quickly responded.

            “Where did that name come from?”

            “I had a friend once with that last name.”

            “Well, Zundel it is.”

            And so we left that day with Zundel.  What followed was an inside dog.  We got her spayed as outside she would sometimes go.  When asked what her name was by neighbors and such, I always got a strange reaction.  It may have been a strange name.  But it was my choice.

            One time my husband’s mother came for a visit.  She was from Texas and spent a week with us.  She was trying to make conversation with me often.  I knew from the start mother-in-law did not like me.  This is common sometimes with mother-in-laws.  But before she left and went back to Texas, she would manage to dig the hole a little deeper.

            She let Zundel outside and when wanted her back inside, she yelled for her.

            “Come here, Zundel!”  She apparently couldn’t let it go without turning to me and asking, “Who gave that dog such a dumb name?”

            “I did!”  I replied.

            Things got quiet and my mother-in-law walked out to bring Zundel inside.  The name of our pet is the name we give them.  It may be strange or dumb to others. We don’t have to ask approval.  Although Zundel and mother-in-law are both gone, the memory lingers.  A smile still comes to my face.