Tuesday, June 05, 2007


So, part two in the dog story. Let's see, I was telling you that I really wanted a mature dog so I didn't have to train it and because puppies are such a hassle and blah, blah, blah. We went to the shelter the day I wrote that blog and we took a mature dog out for a test walk. he was great. He was calm, well-behaved, and very sweet--his name was appropriately--Placid. Lilly could walk him (which is the real test because she's not very big). She was sure she could handle a dog like that.

I was a little skeptical, just because she looked to be almost as big as Lilly. No, she assured me, she could walk Placid no problem. Well, I countered, what if he saw a squirrel or something and took off. Again she assured me she could handle that. So we tested it. I had Grace throw a tennis ball. Placid (ignoring his moniker) took off like a shot, dragging Lilly around the shelter yard on her stomach, just like in the movies. While I screamed, "Oh, oh, oh," Grace had the presence of mind to shout, "Let go of the leash!" which she did. Fortunately, only her pride was truly wounded (and her knees and elbows a little).

We tried to walk two more mature dogs. But they were both very strong, muscular, and not well-behaved. I didn't even try to walk one of them which was jumping up on me. "See what you did," the trainer admonished as she led him back to his prison, which made me feel bad.

Frustrated, I reluctantly took Grace's suggestion to at least check out the puppies. They led us to a small room with three crates. In one crate, three, tiny, tan puppies stood barking sweetly at us. I don't even know who was in the other two crates because Grace made a beeline for that crate of three and that was the end of that. Grace took one puppy out who immediately snuggled in her arms like a kitten with her head on her shoulder. Then I held her and said, "Okay, which one of these three is going home with us?" Grace pointed to the shy one, now trying to hide in the corner. She had to reach in to get her.

The whole time I filled out the paperwork (what the hell, there's less paperwork when you have a baby) and heard about our new dog's short life (she'd been picked up by Animal Control in Chicago with her four littermates at the age of 7 weeks), the puppy sat on Grace's lap. She did not wiggle, or bark or move except to snuggle closer to Grace.

In the car on the way home, Grace declared her name was to be "Molly". That night, despite advice to keep her in her crate I let her sleep with the girls. Everyone said puppies have to get up and go out at least twice a night so the girls had flashlights and elaborate plans about who would get up and take her out first. But when they woke up in the morning, Molly was right where they'd left her, between them on the bed, waiting for her new girls to wake up and play with her.

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