Big news here, folks. We’re considering adopting a dog. His name is … wait for it … Rudy! Yes! I bet you would never have guessed. Rudy isn’t a designer dog, unless the designer was Lego, and several sets were involved. That’s his picture, up at the top of this blog. His foster mom says she thinks a Rottweiler and a hound of some sort involved. She also says that Rudy has quite the schnoz on him–he spends his walks sniffing things. This should work out nicely in our yard, because I designed it to be a treat for the nose as well as the eyes–we have creeping thyme, basil, mint, lemon balm, cumin, chives, and don’t even get me started on the flowers.
Rudy’s coming for a sleepover this weekend. We have to see how he gets along with the girls, and how the girls get along with him. It’s an experiment. I hope it goes well. And, as is my custom, I’m already thinking of ways to put Rudy’s magnificent nose and brain to work–I’m thinking a dog with a sniffer like that needs to be doing search and rescue work. We’ll see. First we have to see how he copes with cats. Oh, and about that brain: Rudy was being trained to be an animal companion in prison, and he knows how to play fetch, and the commands sit, stay, shake right, shake left, come, down, let’s go, leave it, heel, drop it, wait, bang (plays dead) and alive. Rudy just may be smarter than I am.
Wish us all luck. If you have time, try sending him psychic messages: … cats good … litterboxes bad … poop OFF the grass … cats good … cats good … If this works out, Rudy will be coming to the office regularly.
As I’m sure you can imagine, all of this has sparked a certain amount of anxiety for me. Adopting a pet isn’t as simple as just deciding to do it and then going to the pound and taking home the one that licks your face. In theory, I’d love to help Rudy. But the reality is that I simply don’t know if our family is the right family for him. He’s a fairly young dog, and mellow I’m told, though he likes to play. That’s fine, because I have a teenage son who can give him a lot of yard time.
Another issue is size. From the picture, it looks like Rudy is a medium-sized dog, which is all we can manage in our small house. His purported parentage gives me pause (or should I say “paws”?). Rottweilers and hounds are big dogs. If Rudy’s too big trying to shoehorn him into our small house just isn’t going to work.
And then there’s the question of Rudy’s past. He’s a rescue dog, which means that he’s already probably faced some tough times. How have those shaped him? Has he learned to bite in addition to all of his cute tricks? Was he neutered early enough in life so any lingering affection for shins and chair legs has died? Has he learned to chase and kill smaller animals (read “cats”)? We just don’t know. And we won’t, until we have a chance to meet him.
But the one thing about which I am crystal clear is that if there’s any question, any question at all, I need to be honest. Rudy deserves to be loved. He deserves not just any home, but the right home. If we can be that, great. If not, maybe I can help him find that perfect home.