Originally I had hoped that if everything went well and I didn’t make any mistakes, she might wag her tail in a month.
I was wrong.
Monday morning was to be her first all puppy chow, no rice meal, and she sat on the rug watching me. When I picked up the little bowl she uses, she suddenly stood up, barked, and started wagging her tail! I knew, from experience, that a rottweiler with a tail who wagged as vigourously as she did was a serious menace to coffee tables and shins, so briefly I thought of my good fortune that Annie was destined to be a small dog. I managed to evade her enthusiastic leaps to get the bowl and to set in on the floor for her. In only three days, she was barking, wagging, and running with a puppy-gallop across the pen.
Clearly she had no respect for my timetable.
I wondered which, if any, of the other dogs she might attach herself to, or perhaps take on as a role-model. Would it be Rufus, the dignified, elegant pack lead? That would be an ideal choice since Rufus is as close to a ‘perfect dog’ as any I have seen. Or maybe she would follow in Woody’s footsteps, again a good choice as he is the most intelligent dog I have known, and she looks as much like Woody as Louie does Rufus. Woody is fun-loving and very communicative, so that wouldn’t be bad either. Even Simon or Jeff would be good: quiet and cuddly, always appreciative of attention.
There is probably no way I can surprise those of you who know my pack and its history, and if you know of my fervent belief in Murphy’s Law, you will guess immediately whom she chose.
Louie.
For those who don’t know Louie, imagine that if he were a teen-aged boy, he would want tattoos and have a leather jacket and a motorcycle, but would always stop to help ducklings across the street.
And then chase them all the way to their mother.
After Louie was caught standing—on one foot—stealing food from the kitchen counter, I found Annie up against the dog food table trying to eat from Bubba’s bowl.
Louie has always insisted on being on my lap in front of the computer, no matter how difficult it is for him to climb up. Now it’s even more of a challenge since he often finds Annie already in “his” place.
Louie also likes to lie on the back of the sofa, wrapped around my neck, and put his head on my chest, especially if there are people-cookies or potato chips available, and one evening I reached to pet the little head on my collarbone and it wasn’t Louie. It was Annie,
And now Louie has to share his favorite pillow and chew toy—Simon.
Of all the dogs she could have chosen…
At least I’ll be assured of a houseful of fun for many more years.
Annie is reserved, but ready to play. She is reluctant to meet new people, but will eventually allow them to pet her and even give her treats. She has great joy in her when she feels safe, and a great capacity to love.
As wonderful as all dogs are, for the third time I have been shown that “broken” dogs are a special blessing.
All it cost me was a little extra dog hair on the furniture.
