I’m not the sort who wakes up in a cheesy rom-com. Even when I was young and my body parts were all in the normal place, I wasn’t rom-com material and I surely am not now. But somehow, there I was, blindly stumbling toward what the youngsters call a “meet-cute.” I was the last know, because that’s how rom-coms work.
Like I wrote last week, I was scrolling through rescue dog profiles online with dark circles under my eyes and dried cereal on my sweatshirt. My hair looked like I had cut it myself, because I do. It had been six weeks since my dog, Preacher Man, died. I’d sprinkled his ashes in this small shrubbery in the yard so he could continue to bark at the cruel, taunting sparrows. That wasn’t the problem. Now Mister, the surviving dog, was disconsolate. I’m not saying things were bad, but Mister was moping around in an old plaid bathrobe and slippers. His ears were drooping off the side of his head. I worried he might have a bottle of Jack hidden somewhere in the yard. He didn’t even sleep on the bed, instead choosing the cold, hard, and tragically sad linoleum.
Mister had always been a loner, not a dog park kind of guy. Just after meeting, we left for the 22,000 mile Undomesticated Women road trip, and he was flawlessly introverted. Now he barked at me for woebegone hours, long into the evening. Boof. Boof. Boof. Was Mister having a midlife crisis? He looked at me with dead eyes.
It was easier for me to fake it. I’m like most people who love their jobs. Unfailingly interested. As long as the Zoom meeting runs, it’s easy to smile, easy to do the work of problem solving for others. Easy to step into my professional persona. And like all rom-com heroines, I had a secret that I was hiding from everyone. Hiding it like a dead fly in the milk.
I scrolled the rescue pages for an hour, widening my search, looking for an unwanted rescue dog. Probably reactive, maybe aggression issues, and older because I am older. Mister doesn’t like dogs taller than him, so that makes the list shorter. Arf, dog humor. I think I’ll recognize the next dog, so on I scroll. And when I can’t look at anymore sad but not quite right faces, I take a break.
It’s feeling forced, so I click back to see if there were new puppy videos posted by my friends who sent me Preacher and Mister. They are exposing the pups to the world. The litter travels in a wagon to a tiny outdoor agility course for playtime. Sometimes, I think one of them is looking at me. Like a low budget horror movie, I think the wee girl’s eyes follow me. Or maybe she’s just easy to pick out because of her size.
I look it up. Swedish Vallhunds are an ancient breed that Vikings used to herd cattle. Who knew Vikings even had cattle?
When my mother was my age, she was a widow living in a trailer park in Mesa, Arizona. She had ceramic cats everywhere. Too many to mistake. I suggested getting a live cat, and I’d back her up. She wanted to, but wouldn’t let herself. My mother was a child of the Depression. Suffering and regret were her daily bread. She died two years later. Would she have lived longer if she had gotten a cat? Was it a responsible decision, or do we punish ourselves for our age?
I scrolled on. It had to be the right friend for Mister. Out-of-state dog rescues now. Not many herding types. None the right size. None looked familiar.
Times like this, I’m glad to have a reliable philosophy of life. I never doubt the universe will put what I’m looking for right in front of me. It could be camouflaged, I just need to identify it. That makes it sound like I have perfect karma, says the woman with three ex-husbands. I’ve had disappointments, but fate has never failed me. For all the curve balls, natural disasters, and public pratfalls, I trust my path. I knew our next dog was there. Maybe Preacher would help.
Now there is an entire 4-H dog club in the barn aisle and the puppies are charging onto laps, cuddling, and somersaulting away. The chaos was infectious. The pups are growing, becoming confident. My friend and I talked about the small girl pup, but we talked about all the puppies. They call her Tiny. She’s using her hind end to take down a pup twice her size. Irresistibly tough. She reminds me of someone.
But I’m still looking for the cloudy-eyed dog who fits our profile. The stinky elder who volunteers. I don’t think of the puppies because they are rare and special. My mother’s daughter, I settle for less. It’s my job to help clean up messes that others make. I take in the broken ones. Besides, the puppies are spoken for.
This is the scene where the rom-com is repetitive and blatantly predictable. You want to change the channel, to speed up the inevitable. Play along with me, because I was as oblivious as the blonde girl from the big city who comes back home. Too distracted to see what’s right in front of her. She doesn’t recognize her answer because the outfit is wrong, the timing is off, they are involved with someone else. You know this plot. Blundering conversations ensue. No one says what they think. It’s a humorless comedy of errors that goes on too long.
At my awkward age, I think about the changes we can’t fight. The catch in my hip, the hardware in my foot. The unknowable future of the work I do. The animals who depend on me. People have never hesitated to tell me that my life choices are foolish. I try to quiet the voices in my head. What is right for us? It’s been a long month of unrequited searching. Mister says keep searching.
Meanwhile, the pups have been temperament tested. An AKC conformation vet has gone over the litter. Buyers don’t choose their puppy, the breeder decides. One pup will go to the stud dog’s breeder. A female puppy will eventually go to France. The rest will be going to homes in all directions. It’s a shifting puzzle. I know I can’t ask for a specific pup. Nothing is up to me, but I finally know one thing. The female they call Tiny is not the dog I was looking for, but she is certainly was the dog I keep looking at.
When the litter is five weeks old, I finally ask my friends if Tiny is available. I can feel you shaking your heads. The heroine is always the last to know. I shouldn’t have to remind you that’s me.
My friend answers before I finish. She is. Another breath, and I ask how much are the puppies. My friend tells me, but Tiny isn’t show quality. She will be smaller. She isn’t perfect. My friend’s wrong about that, I think. And then I ask if she can be ours.
This is why I hate rom-coms. It’s the scene where the obvious becomes more obvious. My friend says she didn’t want to influence me and I say I didn’t want to assume. My friend says, we wanted her to find you from the moment we knew what a fighter she was. Like, three days in. We just had to wait for the idea to settle in your heart.
It feels anticlimactic. That’s when I hear a distant glass-shattering yap. Preacher. I know, but I tear up anyway.
Maybe this puppy will have a brief life, or maybe mine will run long. No one knows the future, but it might not be as dark as it seems. I’m a writer for crying out loud. I know we make up the story as we go. Just don’t fall in love with loss. Stay in the game. Choose joy, most of all, when it feels like a radical act.
Then I asked, if it wasn’t too much trouble, could they call her Jolene?
…
To be continued. Part 2 in a series. (Here’s Part 1)
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Be still, my heart! I keep noticing the many reasons not to do something similar, but isn’t that a key part of the rom-com script?❤️ Wishing you, and Mister, and Jolene many many happy returns!
Thanks, Susan. Yup. Key part.
My beloved Rufuss passed on while I was in a hospital with back surgery problems. I was, and am, devastated. My best friend for 14 years!
Very soon though, I decided I wanted to fill that void with a rescue dog of an older age, as I too am now in my mid 70’s, with back problems. Although I have yet to find my new friend, your post today gave me the boost I needed. I don’t have to have an older dog if I find the one who calls to me. Nor must he/she be a “rescue.” I feel at ease. You’ve once again helped me.
So enjoy your new puppy Jolene. Celebrate the liveliness a youngster brings into your life. And know you’ve picked a joyous and bark-filled breed! They talk about everything.
So glad, Laurel. Heal well.
I love this so much. Your writing is always good, but this one – well I don’t have your word gift, but this one along with the picture of Jolene – brought up a lot of emotions. Thank you.
Thanks, Julie. This one was so fun to write.
We just got in a litter of rescue puppies of as-yet-undetermined genetic origin. Two of the six have those adorable little pointed ears with that width in between. Others have the width, the diminutive size, but flopped over. Wouldn’t it be fun to have part-Corgi pups for the next month or so! That would be a new one for us. We’ll know in a week or two.
So much fun! Enjoy, Marijane.
You got that one sentence backwards… “ I’m a writer for crying out loud…” Should have said “I”m a crier, for writing out loud.”
LOVE LOVE LOVE this one! Welcome Home Jolene!
Hahahahahahahahahhaha! Oh, gawd, Mark. Too right!
Congratulations on your new puppy! I had a feeling when I read these lines: “so I click back to see if there were new puppy videos posted by my friends who sent me Preacher and Mister… Sometimes, I think one of them is looking at me. Like a low budget horror movie, I think the wee girl’s eyes follow me.” 🙂
Thanks, Faith. Pretty obvious to anyone but me.
Your friends are amazing and Jolene is beautiful! I’m tearing up! So happy for you! We cannot know the future, but we certainly cannot stop living because we are uncertain. Looking forward to your adventures with Jolene.
Thanks Lia. They are amazing! And so the adventure begins.
I am so happy for you and for Jolene! I met her a few weeks ago. You are right; she is perfect! I can’t help but love the progress. Each dog they have found for you has carried less baggage than the one before. Getting not only a puppy, but one that has been socialized and started in such an ideal manner is a treat few can experience. If she is anything like all the Vallhunds I have met, you will still have your hands full for a while, though in the best possible way!
Thanks, Peggy. I think you know baggage was never a problem. And I want full hands.
What a beautiful surprise is little Jolene! Never heard of this breed until today. Swedish Vallhunds remind me of Corgis. Meet-Cute indeed!
Thanks, Jody. Some folks call them Wolf Corgis.
Happy for you, Anna, and ecstatic for Jolene! Sometimes, the only thing that makes sense is choosing joy, even if the logistics don’t add up. (Says the 65-year-old who recently bought a Friesian yearling that she wasn’t even looking for – but didn’t know how much she needed.)
Funny how that works… Thanks Karen, and congrats.
We are always the last to know. I love that you found each other. Mister has a protégé 🤗
Oh, Toni. He does indeed!
Sometimes, it’s not so bad to be predictable, by the people who know you best. Full hearts all around! Congratulations!
Thanks, Minna. So much fun.
What a wonderful story. Are you coming to Illinois to pick her up? I am friends with a Valhound breeder who lives nearby. Would love to meet you if you are headed this way.
Aren’t they great dogs? Sorry, this breeder was in TX. The road trip is coming next. Thanks, Katie.
I’ll be 72 next week. My latest pup will turn 2 the day before and my “older” one will be 2 1/2 in July. I thought long and hard about adopting puppies but many years ago I created a trust to care for any animals that outlive me and I believe that is the key. Couldn’t care less about any worldly goods I leave behind as long as I know my animals will be cared for. Congratulations, and enjoy that new puppy!
Exactly, Bev. Knowing that simplifies things for sure.
I’ve come back top your writing recently, Anna. I guess being of a similar vintage it resonates. I wanted you to know that your words help, thank you.
Welcome back, Maxine. Thank you.
Dear Anna, a very small message just to tell you the joy of reading you, again and again
Ursula
Thank You, Ursula. I appreciate the kind words.
In a way I just did it too. I’m 72 years old, down to my last 4 horses that I’m planning to out live. Then up the road stand 2 horses that did not winter well ,in a pasture more dirt than grass. Heads hanging low, ribs and hip bones showing, winter coats thick and clumpy.
I look their way when I drive by, but I keep telling myself I don’t need another horse. Especially 2 that need extra care. Then one day I stopped and they looked up and our eyes met. And in the blink of the eye I was hooked. Something reminded me that it’s the little deeds put in front of us where we can make a difference. So I approached the owner, who eagerly agrees to give me the horses. After medical and dental work, they are now gaining weight and I have found that I did need anotherhorse – or two. .
Bless you, Sandra. And bless your checkbook. Not joking, with respect. Neglect is rarely done with meanness. Thanks for taking them on.
Thank you – I love a good cry on an evening I’m reading blogs instead of doing QuickBooks like I keep telling myself I will. Count me in as a grateful fan in the same club who tries not to think too much about “The unknowable future of the work I do. The animals who depend on me.” Or at least, when it enters my mind, I make choices out of love for what I do and the animals anyway.
Thanks Ashley. Can’t go wrong making choices by love.
And there you have it, or her! She is adorable and I can’t wait to read about your many adventures together.
Thanks Jinx. I can’t wait either.
Oh Anna, she’s ADORABLE! Congrats to you, Jolene (awesome name!) Mister, and the whole rest of the fam damnily!
Shelley, who always peruses the adoption info sent my way, who has adopted adult rescues many times over the years, but broke down and got a puppy 7 years ago. Ahhhhh puppies!
Thanks, Shelley. For all the joy of adult rescues, this is unforgettable. Obviously.
Oh, wow, what adventures lie ahead!
Thank you again for your honesty to share the depths of your heart.
Blessings abound!
Thank you, Evelyn. Blessings right back.
“And whether or not it is clear to you, the universe is unfolding as it should.” Enjoy.
At your home and mine. Love to you John
Love this story–and all your stories, Anna. I, too, am a cantankerous old woman. You encourage me to keep going. 🙂
Welcome, Jolene!
Thanks, Dawn. Cantankerously on!
Congratulations to you both!!❤️
Thank you, Candis
I can’t remember when you last had a girl dog? Smiles… I’m sure she’ll be teaching you as much as you her😁
Wonderful news Anna
True. Girls are my favorites, but it’s been a long time since I picked a dog. They are a different kind of treat, aren’t they? Thanks, Annie
Jolene…what a gal!
Times ten! Thanks, Lynell
Well……yea, yahoo, yes, and congratulations to you, Jolene, and Mister. Yes Mister, because he doesn’t know it yet, but this sweet young thing just might steal his heart.
Oh Anna, there’s nothing like new love that better dulls the harsh realities of life. I am gloriously happy for you.
Hah, Laurie. Yes, a new love for both of us.
Oh. My. God. That last photo – SO ADORABLE!!! How could you not??
Your story reminds me of a friend who also only had rescue dogs. The day she gave herself permission to buy a puppy from a breed she’d wanted for almost a decade… she was giddy with glee and expansion of self.
There are people out there, like Jolene’s breeder, who are very ethical, keep ancient breeds alive, and do their very best by not over-breeding, doing health testing, and socializing the litters. They deserve our respect and support. Like your friend, I’ve spent my life, with both horses and dogs, trying to help clean up the mess of damaged animals. Problems that others created. Sometimes it feels good to cheer for the good guys. I’m glad for your friend. Thanks for commenting, Jini.
She is so cute! Love that face! So glad you got her. I lost my older dog a while back. I called him my Daddy dog as he came into my life after my dad died. He was half boxer half golden retriever. I had not had a dog for a while as I was running back and forth to Mesa, AZ from San Diego because of my aging parents. But after Dad died and mom was in a home because of dementia, I was still working, school teacher, I picked up my little fuzzy pup. He was a God send. I would take him back and forth as I still had to deal with their house and all the stuff. He was a good traveler. Now he is gone and of course I miss him terribly. I did find a friend early in his life, a female from his litter. Imagine that, two fluffy boxers. Wonderful sweet dogs, but she died early. So I found another puppy for a friend, a 3/4 boxer 1/4 border collie. He got big and strong!! Have not gone looking for another dog so he has become quite a character. Have fun with your new puppy. She is a cutie
So many good dogs! Thanks for sharing them, Virginia.