Ten years ago today I brought Ruth home. Well actually We brought Ruth home. You see, back then I was married and it was the other half of the We, John, that wanted to bring Ruth home.
I admit I started it. My not-so-subtle pleading to at least go down to the Humane Society and look around had finally paid off -- or so I thought.
August 4th 1999 was our third trip down to the pound. Our house was small and we were on the hunt for a petite pooch to match. Our previous two visits the preceding weeks were Pit Bull and Shepherd mix adventures. No-go.
This visit was shaping up about the same. Row after row of large breed puppies and large breed adult dogs watched us walk up and down the rows of runs. There was the occasional small dog garnish amongst them but they were all on adoption hold already. We were never going to find a dog this way.
As I frowned into one of the last runs full of Shepherd mix puppies, I marveled at the little brown dog toy they had in there when I realized it was moving. What in the french toast was going on here?!
John caught up to me, and as I pointed, his smile confirmed that my eyes were not deceiving me. A tiny, brown scraggly little puppy was sitting in the middle of this pack of dogs destined for great...size. Each time they tried to play with her it looked more like a pummeling. Paws on head, playful nosey nudges pushing this little thing right over.
Bummer for that puppy or squirrel mix, or whatever, I thought as I walked towards the exit. But John was not so quick to follow. "Where are you going? This could be the dog for us."
Um, what?! I only agreed to the strict size limit on the prospective puppy because I thought I was going to end up with a CUTE one!
This is a cute puppy.
This is a cute puppy.
This.....not so much.
Alright, alright.....but still...
Before I can even spell UGLY, John has hurried off in search of an adoption counselor. Five minutes later he returns. Alone. "She's already on hold" he tells me in a disappointed tone. Whew! That was close. As we leave, the woman who had helped John stopped us to tell us that if the potential adopter doesn't pass muster during the scheduled interview that was to take place that evening, She-It would be back up for takers starting the following morning.
There we were bright and early the next morning; arriving when the Humane Society opened. We waited to speak to someone, and were informed She-It was off of adoption hold and back on the market.
Apparently the woman who wanted to adopt her had what else but a big dog at home. Since that Rottweiler of hers was an adult, it made the environment for She-It unsafe by HS standards, and her application was denied.
We followed the woman out to the kennels and the little brownish clump of steel wool managed a half wag as we approached. As John stepped into the run and picked She-It up, a yellow sprinkling hit his jacket. "She peed on you!" I screeched. Unfazed, John held She-It close and softly dismissed my resistance with, "She's a fixer-uper puppy"