After a great deal of thought and consideration, we decided that five children were not enough. Our family didn't quite feel "complete." Perhaps it was the fact that two of the children were up north with their grandmother and we felt lonely. Maybe it was the fact that the twins are no longer babies, and it saddened me to see them getting older. I think that the main reason, though, was that a certain friend of mine kept putting irresistible pictures online of these sweet little ones that needed adoption. Whatever the reason, I had made a decision: we were getting a dog.
My husband, who initially thought that perhaps he had underestimated the extent that the children had driven me insane, decided to support my decision, but not without a good deal of research first. So, we spent the next hour online looking up shelters and the available dogs, as well as what breeds were good for families. He stumbled upon the American Eskimo. I quickly found one online that someone was getting rid of because he was alone and needed to get a second job, therefore leaving the dog home alone all day and evening. I called and he said we could come out to see him...in Hamtramck...that evening .
We loaded the three younger ones into the van, and set out on the nearly two-hour journey to go meet the dog. Upon arrival, we realized the address I had was to a flower shop...in a neighborhood that was not one you would probably want to be in after dark. I called the guy's number and asked if he lived in the apartment above the flower shop.
"Oh...you're there? Um, do you see a BP gas station?"
"Uh...down the road?"
"Nevermind...how about I just meet you where you are?"
He hung up and we waited. I started to wonder what I had gotten us into. After a few minutes, a car drove up, and I was relieved to see a furry white dog in the back seat. I got out, and the dog wagged his tail and I pet him...and with Bruce's approval, decided that this was our new dog.
We got him into the van (with a little help from his previous owner,) and set off for home. He was not thrilled. He whimpered. He tried climbing on Bruce. He got smudges all over the passenger window from rubbing his nose on the glass. About halfway home, we decided that we had better see if Irelynn and the new dog needed to have a potty break. Bruce pulled into a rest area.
After the dog peed on every tree and bush he could find, we walked him back to the van. Then, what happened next, was probably one of Bruce's less intelligent moments. Before getting the dog into the van, he removed the leash. The dog took off.
The next several minutes consisted of Bruce and I running after the dog. He circled the rest area, doubling back and ran around the trees. Irelynn was hot on my heels as I tried to sneak around the other side of the restrooms to confront him. Bruce tried enticing him with leftover chicken nuggets that we still had in the car from the ride to Hamtramck. No luck.
As I chased the dog around the restrooms, again, feeling as though my lungs were going to burst, I envisioned the dog running off into the sunset. I rounded the corner and a guy was standing outside the men's room, looking at me warily as I held the dog leash and doubled over, wheezing.
"He just ran into the men's room. Do you want me to see if anyone is in there?"
I nodded, unable to speak yet.
He went in, and I had Irelynn stand next to me, blocking the exit. The guy went in, which made the dog want to run out...and I finally caught him. I attached the leash, and removed him from the men's room...but not before he took a giant crap on the floor. Awesome.
The remainder of the trip was uneventful, and despite his initial hesitation, the dog has quickly become part of the family. He has turned out to be very affectionate, and has decided that Irelynn is his best friend.
I also kept good on my promise to Bruce: though I would not let him name one of our children Tiberius, if we ever got a dog, he could give that name to the dog.
Welcome to the family, Tiberius...and good luck.
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