Home – and hearts – are full again
His name is Felipe, and we’re getting to know each other. He loves to take walks, will eat anything containing peanut butter, and will chase a squeaky toy as many times as I’ll toss it.
After a year of emptiness, this house finally has a dog.
In the past year, this column space has been filled with stories about the loss of our family’s dogs: first, the death of my elderly Smoothie just days after my mother’s passing. And a few weeks after that, my parents’ dog Twinkie died. This year has marked the longest stretch that any of us have been without a dog.
Since then I’ve been looking for a dog to adopt, preferably an older dog from a shelter or rescue. My efforts have been frustrating; I submitted multiple applications but would never hear back. The one dog I was invited to visit turned out to be sweet, but was a poor match because I was immediately allergic.
Keep looking, my friends would say.
And then my daughter-in-law mentioned her uncle’s miniature schnauzer that might need a new home. After his owner died, Felipe was taken in by relatives – but they have other, younger dogs, and Felipe was overwhelmed by the activity and energy, and needed a quieter home.
Last weekend I met Felipe. The family had spiffed him up with a bath and a haircut. I sat down and waited for him to come over to me; he let me pet the soft space between his pointy ears as I learned about him. He’s 13 – elderly for his breed – but healthy and spry. It felt right, and so the family kissed his head and away we went with the car loaded with his bed and blanket and squeaky toys.
In my rear view mirror I could see Felipe trembling a bit, and who wouldn’t be anxious? Once home he scampered around the house, exploring the corners and sampling the air. And then he curled himself into his bed and took a long nap. Every few minutes I’d bend down and scratch him between the ears. The trembling had stopped.
As much as I wanted a dog for me, I wanted a dog for my dad even more. The past year has been the longest he’s ever gone without a dog. And so I’m sharing Felipe with him.
A question mark lurked over the first visit with our dad. We knew our Poppy would like Felipe, but would Felipe like Poppy? I handed Felipe to Poppy, and there he stayed. For an hour, the two of them sat in happy and spontaneous affinity. It was love at first sight, for both of them.
If the math about “dog years” is true, then Felipe and Poppy are about the same age, just a couple of guys with lots of years of experience behind them. Felipe had landed in the lap of the greatest dog lover of all time.
Back here at home, Felipe will bring me a squeaky toy. I’ll toss it, and he’ll take a few steps and then slide across the hardwood floor, overshooting his target by a mile. After long rounds of that, he’ll retreat to his bed for a nap.
I don’t know if there’s such a thing as just one perfect match. Felipe had a lot of happy years with his original owner, and my dad and I will do our best to make him happy for the rest of his time. And if it’s mostly chasing some toys, taking a walk or two, napping all day and sitting with Poppy, that will count as happy.
For all three of us.