We donât need another dog.
So many of our longtime family and friends know that in the past thirty years, our home (or homes) belonged to one dog. He was the runt of the litter, a lab/retriever mix that moved into our home in 1995...a promise kept. Sheryl told her boys (this was before Graeme was born) that they could have a dog once we got into a house, with a backyard. So when it happened - Morgen and Zachary got their pooch. Dad got naming rights (hey, I was paying the rent!) and screwed it up big time. Instead of naming him for the main character (played by Peter Riegert) in my favorite movie, âMacIntyreâ from the 1983 film Local Hero, I accidentally bestowed upon this playful puppy the name âMacIntoshâ. Why? It had been a while since Iâd seen the movie and quite frankly, assigned the name Burt Lancasterâs character used when he couldnât remember the actual name of Riegertâs character. Dammit. Now my dog was named for an old Apple computer (years before the company moved on to iPods and iPhones). The wife said that once you give a dog a name, you canât change it so that was that - and MacIntosh kept his name; although I often shortened it to âMacâ (as was done often in the film) to maintain the cinematic connection.
Now Sheryl is not a dog person. Or so sheâll tell you. But damned if she didnât train Mac from day one. He followed her every command and yet remained, a âpuppyâ, in every sense of the word. Mac definitely made our home his home.
As we grew older and moved along, so did Mac.Â
Even though our homes have always had cats (and likely always will), he reigned over the pet kingdom. Mac was not one to suffer from too many ailments, but the older he got, the less active he was. Then one night, Sheryl was enjoying a girlâs night out and, I can only assume, had one drink too many. She did something completely out of character upon spotting a stray dog hiding under cars in a Mexican restaurant parking lot. She took that little lady home with her. It had mange and a host of grossness. Clearly the animal had also been beaten and left for dead. But Mia (named in part for the Mexican restaurant where she was found) was sort of a savior for Mac.
She was a unique breed of Shepherd and...Corgi? Who knows. But she got her new older brother out and about. He played and we like to think she added some years to his life.
Not sure if he appreciated sharing his bed with Mia. But he never complained.
He was such a part of the family that my regret will always be that I didnât show him just how much I loved him every day. Itâs so easy to take those pets for granted when you come home and just give âem a quick pat on the head. When the time came, it was quick. Doc told us the news and we were, all of a sudden, down to our last 24 hours.
We spent every minute we could with him - even if he just wanted to sleep.
How do you say âgoodbyeâ after 15 full years? How do you do it and not feel like a fool because âitâs just a dogâ? Dog owners will tell you - they are, after all those years, as much a part of the family as a human counterpart. Well, ALMOST as much.
The above is my favorite photo of us, taken just the day before. It reminds me how much he meant to me. Iâll never forget my hope that he understood why he was getting all of this attention - that he was loved and appreciated so much. And if he didnât âknowâ what was coming, the McDonalds (burgers and fries) and a whole damn pizza probably clued him in. When the time came, I remember our whole family, surrounding him on the table at the vet. If youâve been there, then you know exactly what Iâm talking about. As we cried, he looked around and licked as many hands and arms as he could. With a quick shot, he was gone.
I canât speak for everyone in the room, but I was not in any way prepared for the pain his death caused. I cried for three days. A dog. A goddamn dog. Youâd think Iâd lost a parent or something. I even put a small video together at the time, using photos, video and appropriately, Mark Knopflerâs song âGoing Homeâ from Local Hero. He was definitely a âgood boyâ.
Interestingly, my brother suggested we bring Mia into the room afterwards, so she could âsmellâ Macâs lifeless body and remove any mystery as to why her buddy âdisappearedâ. Not sure if it worked, but it made the humans in her life feel better about giving her a touch of closure.
After all that sadness, we thought about bringing in a new dog to help Mia in her old age, the way she helped Mac.
We donât need another dog.
It was pretty clear that weâd be better off with those cats, along with a rabbit and guinea pigs added along the journey. They seem easier to âlet goâ.
Mia was a good girl, only getting into trouble when her appetite got the better of her once-in-a-while. But she too, grew old. And in February 2016, following Sherylâs stroke and my unexpected job search, Mia had a terrible night. She had seizures and when she âstabilizedâ, she couldnât walk without going in circles. We just made her comfortable until we knew the veterinarianâs office would open.
Sheryl couldnât bring herself to go this time. Her âgoodbyeâ had to happen at home. And once we got there, Graeme stayed in the car while I went in to get it all arranged. For a brief moment, in the car with the son who spent the most time with her, Mia was alert and I think, letting him know how much she appreciated him.
Graeme took the above picture while I was inside. Despite her tired eyes and worn body, she came to life one more time for him.
Losing Mia was sad as she too was a beloved member of the family. While it wasnât another three days of tears, it was damn close. And her death really brought us to one very definite decision.
We donât need another dog.
For all the selfless love they bring to a home, we just couldnât get that horrible grief out of our mind to actually focus on the overall good.
Truthfully, we were content. My brother had a dog (now he has two) so if we needed a âfixâ, weâd get it with Tallulah Blue. Weâll stick with cats going forward.
Then this stupid movie trailer came out.
Now itâs admittedly corny. But Iâm a sucker for dog movies. Apparently itâs also a book. Another piece of treacle masquerading as art. But then again - what the hell is wrong with that? The premise for this one made me think about what could happen - not what we think does happen. What if Mac wasnât hanging around the âRainbow Bridgeâ? What if he was just making the rounds until he got back to us?
I know, itâs a stupid notion but even cynics can do well to pause for a wistful moment. To this day the damn movie hasnât made it to Netflix or Amazon Prime (and I donât think itâs worth buying) so I havenât actually watched it. But Iâll play the trailer from time-to-time when I think of Mac.
During our time in Vermont, standing in three feet of snow, I would think back to the three inches we might get in Georgia and laugh at how both of our dogs would walk through it as though it were cotton. If only they could play in this shit.
It was about that time that I thought we might someday make the leap and take home a rescue.  âNot ânoâ but âHELL NOââ would be the response from the missus. We were empty-nesters in a two-bedroom apartment. With two cats. She was right.
We donât need another dog. (And one of us definitely didnât WANT another dog!)
When the opportunity to get back âhomeâ to Georgia came after a couple years, we were ecstatic. The ride home started with the above photo, pulling away from our Vermont abode on the 24 hour trek back to the Peach State (just a short distance from family and friends).
Every moment since has been one of true gratefulness for me. The job is terrific. The community is wonderful. The ability to drive âhomeâ to see mom is something Iâll never take for granted again. Hell, even a Krispy Kreme or Waffle House makes me âthank Godâ out loud, behind the wheel, as I drive by.
Itâs been about seven months and weâve gotten into our routine. And every time we visit Petsmart I find myself looking at the rescue pups and kittens because itâs much more fun than looking for the fish stuff Sheryl needs.
And every time I get the same alert from her:Â âWeâre not getting another damn dog.â
Sometimes Iâll bring her over and while sheâll appreciate the animal for what it is, she gets immediately turned off by the âcar salesmanâ approach rescue volunteers often take (for good reason, obviously).
Then, a couple weeks ago happened.
To understand our routine, you have to know that we often have a couple of main errands, with a few more tossed in for âfunâ.
This particular weekend involved our Walmart âpickupâ (order online and then just pick it up - what a concept!) for dry goods, a visit to Publix for the fruits and veggies and lastly Petsmart for frozen mice (eek, Sherylâs snakes!). Beforehand, we were going to visit the local library and get our cards (câmon, weâre middle aged and this is âfunâ for us) and check out a local Goodwill for knick-knacks.
Got the card and it was off to Goodwill.
And while at Publix...I spotted something that made me immediately think of my mom.
She would eat them straight from the bag, back in the day. I had intended to send her the photograph and ask if she remembered. Never got around to it. I post it here because it will always be the âlastâ picture before the photos below.
With the âfunâ stuff out of the way, the Walmart pickup and Publix in the books, it was time to head over to Petsmart for the (ick) frozen mice.
For this part, I donât have a photo. But I parked us approximately 50-60 yards from the entrance to the store. Entrance-right could be seen the familiar stretch of cages filled with rescue pups looking for a home. Sandwiched between two black dogs sat a brown one that immediately caught my eye the moment I came around the back of the SUV.
I canât explain it but I was drawn to that animal instantly. Now Sheryl, who Iâm guilty of leaving in the dust while walking, could be heard as I marched forward calling out the friendly âwarningâ about dogs and adoption. It had recently morphed into the âyou-can-have-one-when-you-retire-and-youâre-home-to-care-for-itâ speech. Always with love but always with the right intention - letâs not do this to ourselves again.
I took a knee in front of this animal and I couldnât tell what mix he was. But it was his eyes that caught my immediate attention. They were sad and suggested âthis âbegging for a homeâ bit was not for himâ. Seemed like he was resigned to whatever got him into that cage and wasnât in the mood to sell himself to me or anybody else. Yet something inside pushed him to do just that. He licked fingers through the gate and by the time Sheryl got there, he was in full âgood boyâ mode.
Something about those eyes though.
They reminded me of another âgood boyâ with some dark eyeliner.
Now it makes sense for me to get all sentimental. Thatâs just who I am. But for Sheryl to follow along was just plain weird. She fell in love with this guy almost as fast as I did.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the phone.
We donât need another dog.
But this time, it was my voice saying it aloud. I had already started to convince myself as we stood up. Even so, I found myself talking to the representative from the rescue group while Sheryl stayed at this pupâs cage.
âHis name is Javaâ, she said.  âHe was picked up by animal control in Columbus and they knew pretty quick he didnât fit the âstrayâ profile.â He was too calm and quite frankly, âtrainedâ she further explained. So once they found him in the shelter (they get first dibs since the rescue sits next door), they put him on a local newscastâs noon segment (no, not ourâs). Instead of putting him out for adoption, as they regularly do - they wanted to let his owners know heâd been found and was ready to go home. Thatâs how sure they were he was lost. The first weekend, he made the Petsmart trip. Nobody claimed him. Nobody wanted to take him home.
So it was back to the shelter cages for another week. It was on this second weekend at Petsmart that âJavaâ found us. Or us him.
He was neutered & microchipped and had all the vaccines and heart-worm prevention. Only $55.  âNo,â the rescue lady said, âitâs 50 percent-off this weekend. Heâs $27.50.â
Not that money is a factor but Iâm thinking he must be âbrokenâ. They insist they just want him to have a good home (and the 50-percent off thing is good for all the dogs they had out there).
It was a pretty hot day and the groceries were probably already starting to melt. We just need to get the damn frozen mice and get the hell home.
This is stupid. Iâm looking for all the reasons this wonât work. And Iâm doing it as she takes âJavaâ out of the cage and lets him âmeetâ me and Sheryl. Well, he wasnât an asshole. And he wasnât âbrokenâ. But he couldnât contain himself. He put on a show for the two of us. Like his freedom was just minutes way from being put on ice for another week. (They were getting ready to pack up for the day).
With him back in the cage, Sheryl and I went into the store to talk it over. Â The clock was ticking and I was leaning towards ânoâ. Â It was just a stupid idea. Â We are not prepared to add a dog to the mix. Â What about the cats? Â Boy are they going to be pissed. Â What about the training? Â Sheryl would get stuck doing that since someone is nowhere near retirement.
Back outside, we checked to see if anyone had even expressed an interest. I honestly believe if someone was just looking at him, weâd have just packed up and gone home.
âAlright, Iâll fill out the application,â I said to no one in particular. âWhatâs the harm?â Sheryl helped me fill it out and made her way back to Java. A trial adoption was on the table. Keep him for a couple of days. If it doesnât work out, theyâll take him back and refund the 27 bucks.
Seemed like a good idea at the time. It also gave us an âoutâ if we had some buyerâs remorse without making us feel like shit.
Before I knew it, they had my application and money - and we were headed home with a dog for the first time in nearly three years.
Look - they even took a photo to capture the first step of this new adventure.
We got some food and toys. We almost forgot the damn mice.
By the time we got home, the groceries were defrosted and we were shellshocked. What the f**k just happened?
We needed to get a cage that would serve as a home for him at night. The rescue people suggested Walmart. So off we went.
By the time we got home for the night, I think we were all exhausted. The cats - well they were not happy about all this. But in the two weeks since, theyâve made a couple treks downstairs. In the meantime, this is where youâll find them.
And our new pup appears to be off the âtrialâ period. Heâs trained very well. Follows nearly all commands and should a cat show up, he just offers a soft âletâs playâ whimper. Hereâs hoping it becomes an âI wonât biteâ whimper.
Heâs been photographed a few times, as you might imagine.
So what kind of dog is he? Heâs listed as a Shepherd on the intake forms. We can only guess that heâs a Boxer-Shepherd mix. We thought about a DNA test (itâs $60) to get the full report. How old is he? The intake vet at the shelter pegged him at 2 years old. The rescue group put down 4 years old (but admits it could be a typo). At our initial vet visit, the doc was not really helpful and suggested we settle on 3 years old. Either way, heâs definitely at the sunset of his âpuppyâ years.
Oh, as for that name he was given - Java? Weâve changed it, of course. Took some time because we wanted to go with a âKâ name, considering the cats are Kushie and Kazi (thatâs all Sheryl). The list got long and we bounced around a few of them with him. He answered to âKipperâ but we just couldnât bring ourselves to go that route. I mean âKipperâ? Really!?
It was only during one of our favorite movies that it hit me. Sheryl agreed - itâs a unique name with a special film connection. And it begins with a âKâ.
I took this photo to capture the moment. Recognize The Shining?
We donât need another dog?
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