I’ve shared so many times before about the incredible role that dogs play in grief recovery, especially for the widowed population. For several years I’ve written and blogged about an event called National Dog Week, observed each September, since 1928, and many other well-deserved observances that honor all things dog.
Wednesday, canines were honored and celebrated during the Awareness Observance of (International) National Dog Day. Gary Sturgis, author of Surviving Grief, paid tribute to the occasion by noting that dogs, among other things, give us a reason to get up and keep going when most reasons to have all but disappeared. When those inevitable moments occur that we find ourselves all alone in an empty place, our dogs stay present, and in that closeness, they let us know they are still here for us whenever we need them. When we’re ready, the get us to venture out into the world again.
It just so happened that on National Dog Day, the much-anticipated results of our dog Winnie’s DNA analysis arrived. Winnie, acquired outside the entrance of our small town’s now defunct Winn Dixie, was just a tiny stinker of a brown pup when I first saw her. With a tattered pink collar and dry patches (flea damage) on the top of her head, she was nestled in the arms of a woman sitting in a motorized shopping cart.
“What a sweet little girl,” I remarked.
“She’s for sale,” the woman replied.
“Really? You’re selling her here?” I asked.
“She’s a Rottweiler,” the woman continued her sales pitch, which happens to be a very popular breed in these parts.
Although the puppy had all the “tan points” and coloraration of a Rotti, and her tail had been docked, I observed other breed characteristics. Her face was too narrow, her eyes almond in shape. She didn’t fit the purebred Rotti “mold”.
But it didn’t matter. She was adorable and I could tell she was in need of immediate attention.
The woman shared that she was a widow and needed the money, naming her price for the pup. I told her I would be back and that I needed to think about it. We already had three dogs. Did I want to take on another? Would my dogs back home accept her? Would she get along with them? Was I crazy?
As I stood there, another woman passed by and greeted the puppy saleswoman.
“All her dogs are very nice,” the woman said to me, smiling.
In this rural area, it isn’t unusual for people to have several dogs, and that’s part of a much larger problem due to lack of Spay and Neuter services, packs of dogs just roaming around, or dumped, in this vast county. Although I felt guilty that I might be aiding and abetting a backyard breeder, I was also concerned for that small pup in her arms.
I did return as promised with several cans of wet puppy food in my cart. I handed her a wad of cash.
“It’s all I have on me,” I said.
“Well, alright,” she accepted the cash handing over the dog. “My husband will be mad, but I’ll take it.”
Husband? I thought she said she was a widow.
But I let it slide. Maybe she had been widowed once and was in a new marriage and now had fallen on hard times. I’ve learned not to judge and in this case it was all about the dog.
I wasn’t sure if I’d be keeping Winnie, but I knew I’d find her a good home and save her from an uncertain and perhaps bad fate. From my car, I called my partner David to give him a heads up and to help with doggy introductions when we arrived home.
A year earlier, I’d been invited by the director of the local animal shelter to tour her facility. While on tour, I’d become intriqued by a litter of nine black and white pups cavorting in an enclosed courtyard. I was told they’d all been near death when they came to the shelter. They were named for the characters in Snow White, much like breeders have themed-names for the their litters. I was told that they were “most likely” Border Collies.
“Can I meet them?” I asked.
Returning the next day with David, that just happened to be Valentine’s Day, we left with the one named Grumpy. Now renamed Jackson, he’s a beautiful white dog with black markings and definitely not a Border Collie!
Soon after, I had Jackson’s DNA analyzed and just like Winnie, it was revealed that they both possess a good share of Rottweiler in their genetic make-up in addition to commonality with a few other breeds including American Pit bull and Staffordshire Terrier. Jackson has lots of Husky and GSD while Winnie even sports some Australian Cattle Dog and lab.
That day, when I arrived home with Winnie, Jackson took an immediate liking to her. The feeling was mutual. They are nearly inseparable now, almost like they sense a genetic bond and of course similar rough starts in life.
You might ask why DNA testing? I believe anything that helps us to understand the temperament and tendencies, as well as potential health issues of your dog, makes for intelligent dog-guardianship and the the most happy and positive canine-human experience possible.
Jackson; moody, sensitive, intelligent – the ultimate caregiver and loyal and protective companion. Winnie; fun-loving, fast, fearless and one of the most affectionate dogs I’ve ever encountered. Quint, my blind Maltipoo and David’s aging and attentive Australian Shepherd, Penny, have learned to tolerate and even enjoy their company.
If there was an award for Best-in-Mix, Winn, Jackson and even Quint, would be strong contenders. Each a blend of the best of their breeds, happy and healthy and spreading joy and love to this Dog’s Little Acre in a haven that has brought all of us peace, safety and contentment.
Happy Dog Daze to all.
