On the drive home, I kept looking down at Star’s body, curled up and comfortable on the new bed on the car seat, and I changed my mind about her coat. I liked that her ears and muzzle were dark and I admired the way the sun hit the brighter stripes in her coat and made them shine. She was cute, I decided.
But the name had to change.
When I pulled into the driveway and parked the car, Star lifted her head and looked at me with sleepy eyes. As soon as I opened the car door, she tried to climb over me to get out and so I lifted her and put her on the grass. She immediately relieved herself and started sniffing around the yard. I let her explore for a little while, let her pull me this way and that, giggled when she stuck her head through the garden fence slots, circled the dogwood tree, and smelled every crevice on the front porch. Then, I took her inside.
My mother had never really been an animal person. She didn’t dislike them, but she didn’t like handling them or taking care of them. My father was the animal lover. He loved dogs, especially. Watching my father with a dog was like watching a different person. He’d squish their faces between his palms and give them smooches, which made my mother’s face screw up in disgust as she said, “Yuck!”
It would have been nice to grow up with a dog.
Not being into animals didn’t mean my mom denied my brother and me the experience of pet ownership, however. We got a kitten when I was 5, who lived until I was 21 (Mitten; 1974 – 1990) and I got another cat when I was 18 (Tiffany; 1987 – 1997). In between and afterwards I had a succession of smaller animals; Brownie and Goldie the hamsters; Hercules and Mel Gerbson the gerbils, Dreyfus the budgie, and hundreds of aquarium fish.
My father and I would talk about getting a dog every once in a while, as he grew progressively more ill over the years, but we could never agree on what kind of dog to get. He wanted a smaller dog, and I wanted a medium-sized dog. But I’m sure he would have liked any dog I might have brought home. He for sure would have liked my new puppy. But my father had passed away exactly two months to the day before I went out and adopted Star.
Star was all about being a wiggly-butt and waggly-tailed girl when she met my mom. This did not immediately win mom over. Star looked up at my mother and put all the power she had into her behind, almost knocking herself sideways. Mom eyeballed her and smiled. “Cute. What is she?”
I shrugged. “Um, some kind of terrier mix, they said.”
“Will she get bigger?”
“They said she’d only get to be about 40 pounds.”
“Really?” I could tell she was concerned.
“It’s not that big. She’ll be fine.”
At that moment a herd of nine-year old girls descended upon my new puppy with squeals and giggles. Turns out my other niece was there with a group of neighborhood friends. Star, still on the leash, still wagging her tail and wiggling all over, was soaking up the attention. I was happy to see she wasn’t afraid of the children. She was friendly, but I could tell she felt a little intimidated or was maybe just completely tuckered out from her day. I made a suggestion to the girls that we all go out to the backyard so I could walk the puppy around and let her get to know her new home.
“What’s her name?” They asked.
“I don’t know yet,” I answered.
After walking her around the yard a couple of times (I didn’t want to let her off the leash since the girls were going in and out of the gate), I called my best friend. Two months prior, Ceil had adopted a beagle/shepherd mix from the city shelter and named her Amber. I was so busy researching and puppy-shopping that I hadn’t even gone over to meet her yet. We were both so excited to get the puppies together that we decided I should come over right away.
I got Star back into the car. Again, she curled up on the bed and fell asleep. And again, I stroked her silky ear while she slept through the entire 20 minute drive over to Ceil’s house. Halfway there, I realized that I’d forgotten to bring the food I’d just bought for the puppy to eat. Also, the bowl I bought for that purpose. That was my first lesson in puppy-ownership: Bring their stuff. But I knew Ceil would hook us up, so I just kept driving.
I saw Ceil standing on her driveway, Amber behind the fence in the backyard behind her. As soon as my tires hit the gravel, Amber started barking. As soon as Amber started barking, Star popped up from her position in the bed and started barking back at her. Ceil and I laughed as our puppies, obviously excited, fell all over themselves to say hello to all of us at once.
We brought Star into the yard and she and Amber sniffed each other, play bowed, and then took off in a game of chase. We let them run around like maniacs for the next couple of hours, laughing frequently. When it started getting dark we all trooped into the house and Ceil fed everyone, including the dogs.
I asked Ceil how she came up with the name Amber and she told me it was because that’s what she thought of when she looked into the dog’s eyes. I looked down at my puppy, who had curled up on the rug with Amber. “I was thinking about calling her Brandy,” I said. Brandy had been the name of Ceil’s first dog, coincidentally. She told me she liked it but wasn’t sure it was the right “fit.” She told me to take a few days to think it over because the puppy wouldn’t know the difference anyway.
I thanked Ceil for everything, collected my sleepy puppy, and loaded her into the car for the last time that night. She turned in circles a couple of times before settling into the bed. And instead of putting her head down, she watched me put the keys in the ignition. I put the car in gear and she looked into my eyes. She winked. I winked back. She put her head down, closed her eyes, and slept all the way home.
Once inside and reacquainted with the space inside the house, I discovered that my new puppy followed my every step. When I went to the bathroom, she cried at the door until I came out. I went out the front door to go get the mail and she cried until I came back. It was the crying that got mom’s sympathy. I heard her telling the puppy she would be ok and that I’d be back in a minute.
Star and I spent the evening playing with her new toys and cozying up together on the couch. I took her out back with me every once in a while and she did her business. I was happy about that, but worried how she’d do through the night.
Eventually, I took her into my bedroom and let her explore. Hercules the hamster captured her interest for a while, and she quietly watched him scurry around his little home. When he went into hiding in his little dump truck-shaped house, Star finally tore herself away from his cage and jumped up on the bed. She watched as I changed into my pajamas and when I brushed my hair, she barked at me. I laughed. After I put my hair into a ponytail and sat on the bed with her, she jumped up on my back and successfully pulled the scrunchie out of my hair. I laughed again.
When she started chewing on the stolen goods, I dug into the bag of supplies I’d bought and pulled out a nylabone. She was very interested in what I was unwrapping, and when I gave it to her she abandoned my scrunchie and settled down with the bone.
I read a book while she happily gnawed on the bone. I tested her every once in a while by taking the nylabone from her. She let me take it each time and waited patiently until I gave it back to her. After a while I turned the light off and we both settled into the bed. Worried that she wouldn’t be able to wake me if she needed to go out, I tossed and turned for a little while. This is when I learned the second lesson of puppy-ownership: No nylabones in bed. Eventually, I fell asleep in the warmth of Star’s body, listening to her gentle breathing.
In the morning, before I even opened my eyes, I wondered where the puppy was. Worried that she needed to go to the bathroom and was off making a mess somewhere, I lifted my head, frantic to know where she was. I saw her immediately. The window next to the bed let in the morning light and illuminated the stripes on her coat as she lay curled up on the pillow next to me. We looked at each other.
“Good morning,” I said.
She leaned forward slowly and licked the tip of my nose, just once. My heart swelled and I patted her head.
I’d gotten my puppy.
Nice! This is getting more interesting!
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