A 3D dog tale

When I moved to the ranch, I had never had a dog.  My dad did not like dogs. I viewed them with uncertainty, as strange creatures.

Our first dog came as a bonus with two pigs we bought.  She was an aged lab/beagle mix with half a tail and a winning attitude.  Sissy taught me about having dogs.  She was unfailingly cheerful, liked to gently pick up any stray shoes and take them into her doghouse.

She started to slow down and I decided to adopt another dog to help with guard duty.  I went to the pound and picked a dog that had a kind eye, had just had puppies and was kind of sorry looking. She looked like a small black colored golden retriever, with a white patch on her chest. She was a pet that had been surrendered.  "Couldn't keep" was all I knew. And she developed kennel cough between the first time I saw her and the second. That was DD the first.

A trouper, she also was sneaky.  We like to dine outside in the evening.  I took a whole roasted chicken outside on a platter, went back in to get a bottle of wine and glasses. When I returned, less than 30 seconds later, the chicken was not only missing, it was GONE. DD looked innocent. I do not have a picture of that DD, only memories.

When that DD passed away years later, we needed a new dog.  Our second DD was a puppy, gotten from a lady who our farrier knew. She raised and had racehorses, her initials were DD, so we named the new puppy after her. DD the second.

DD the second loved to climb trees. She was the first dog I ever had that would wait for me to wake up, then explode into activity chasing squirrels and crows. She was a great dog but since the first of the year she'd been increasingly picky about her food.  Finally about a month ago she pretty much stopped eating.

The vet palpated her and she had a tumor the size of a softball on her spleen. Within 24 hours of our finding the tumor, she went from being a great dog, chasing crows, climbing trees to stopping both eating and drinking.  We researched the tumor treatment options. Not good. We had her put to sleep. It was very hard. She was only seven.

But that left our other two dogs, aged sisters who are becoming infirm.

So we had to look for some young blood.

I went to the Los Angeles County Shelter nearest us. 

Unlike when I went to that shelter and got the first DD, the population had changed.

First, instead of a huge mix of breeds and types, there were two types of dogs. Pit bulls and chihuahuas.

I discovered the way that the Shelters work is different now than it was when I got my first DD.  DD the first had been there for a couple weeks when I saw her, I went home and thought about it and came back a few days later and finally decided to take her.  I took her with me on my second visit, and brought her back to be spayed a month later.

Now it is different. When a dog is taken into the shelter, they take a photo and post it on the internet. It stays there for four days. If no owner comes forward, and no one signs up to be interested in adopting it, on the fifth or sixth day it is euthanized. No dogs can be taken from the shelter without being neutered. The world has become a harder place.

Now, to find a dog, you need to look in the lost and abandoned animals.  When a dog is picked up or dropped off and the owner is unknown, then the LA County shelter holds the dog for four days. During that time if you want to adopt that dog, you have to go to the shelter in person and fill out a form stating you are willing to take the dog.  They take the willing to adopt notes in order and put you on a list.

The first few border collies/aussie shepherds I saw were gone immediately.  Until I figured the above out, I did not understand how the game had changed.

So I began looking at the lost and abandoned listings, and I saw a border collie puppy that was cute.  It looked small and young and lost.

So I went by the shelter to see it in person.  I was looking at it, and suddenly had that prickly feeling you get when someone is looking at you. But I was alone.  I turned around.

This boy was looking at me in the peculiar way that dogs have when they KNOW. It is not always that we humans choose. I called my husband, and said I had found a dog. The "cowdog" had been there for two days, and was waiting for his owner to pick him up. I was struck by an incredibly intelligent stare, the picture does not do him justice.

I was unsure.  We had two more days.  Bob went by and visited him on Monday.  He did not seem aggressive. Bob walked the dog. It was clear he was housetrained, there was much happiness at being able to go outside and relieve himself.


Then we waited.  There was someone else in line.  The owner might yet show up.

Tuesday during the live moderated chat we got a call. The first in line person had declined to take the dog. He had been neutered and we needed to come pick him up. Now.

We did.  We tried names.  Lucky?  Buddy? Who Knew? Spot?

He was following in the big paw prints of DD, and even bigger ones of beloved DD2.

So of course there was only one thing to name him.

Welcome home, 3D