We've been chatting casually for years about getting a dog, but the timing was never quite right. No fenced yard. Long work days. A million and one reasons why it just wouldn't be fair to bring an attention and face-time needing animal home when we had so little of both to offer.
But things change, as they are wont to do, and now here we are with a nice fenced in back yard, a little slower paced lifestyle and someone - namely me - who has enough flexibility in her schedule to be home a whole lot. And suddenly the casual chat became earnest conversation, complete with internet searches of rescue dog photos and trips to the local animal shelter.
That's where we met Jake and promptly fell in love.
He's such a precious pup, I can hardly believe our good fortune at finding him. He's a beautiful dog, labeled as "part Lab" by the shelter staff, but I seriously defy anyone to convince me he's not a full-blooded blonde Labrador Retriever. We were in the right place at the right time by some quirk of fate, and we were first introduced on his fourth day as a stray brought to the kennel. All stray pick ups are required to stay at the shelter for five days, meaning that the very next morning, we were able to go back and claim him as our own.
Then it was off to the vet for him to be neutered. We picked him up on a Monday evening post-surgery and brought him home. By noon the next day, it was clear our new baby was sick. I'm not sure what made me pick up the phone, but when I did call the vet and described his symptoms, their immediate reaction was, "You need to bring him in to be tested for Parvo."
Can any single world inspire more dread in the hearts of new puppy owners? I think not. That said, it must be noted that we've got the greatest team of vets going - they tested him (immediate positive) and started treatment right away. He stayed in the doggy hospital for four days with IV's sending fluids and antibiotics coursing through his sickly little system. I went to visit him every day, and while the first time was painful given his pitiful state, subsequent visits warmed my soul as I watched him gaining strength and growing stronger hour by hour.
Until finally, on that Friday afternoon, we brought him home for good.
Jake has grown like a weed, adding pounds and muscle to his handsome frame. He's a tail wagging, shit-eatin' grin giving, bundle of energetic love. He's only had two accidents in the house, and both of those were more our fault than his. He's smart as a whip and catches on to commands, words and praise easily. He's yet to chew up any household items or tear into the garbage - although there's still time for him to figure that out.
He's not perfect (yet). His most serious flaw is using me as a chew toy. Nobody else - just me. My arms look like Swiss cheese. He's only play biting, but at nearly thirty pounds and with a jaw my whole fist can fit inside, it's painful. Again, this is more my fault than his, though, and I feel confident this bad habit can be trained out of him. Sooner than later, I hope. 'Cause really? OUCH.
Then there's Maggie the cat.
She's no dummy, our Mags. She's relegated herself to the son's third floor pad and the front porch most of the time, although a couple of days ago, she started to come to terms with Jake's constant presence and has taken to lurking in the high shadows to watch his comings and goings. So far, he's completely disinterested and largely unaware of her existence, but she tracks his every move. We're waiting, letting the self-introductions happen as they will.
And that's the story of Jake. He's only been a member of the family for less than a month, but he's already counted among the loves of our lives.
Ain't he sweet?
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** It recently occurred to me that our animals - Jake and Maggie - share monikers with some famous siblings - the Gyllenhaals. You're just going to have to trust me when I say this was entirely accidental and wholly coincidental, I swear!
