I just returned from Huntley with our new pup. The name the rescue gave her is Sioux. We need to think of a better name for her. (I know too many Sue, Suzanne, Suzy and Susannahs.) They gave the entire litter native american names because Catahoulas are a native breed. Cool idea, but Sioux looks better in print than it does in actual usage.

She seems to be adjusting fine. She whimpered for a second as we drove away from her foster home. But I patted her head and she calmed right down. She has already tried to find a way to escape the backyard fence so we will have to be extra diligent about keeping an eye on her.
 
She seems more scared of the cats than they are of her so that is good. They are so used to having dogs in the house it shouldn’t be a problem. Her foster home had cats too.

Now she is tethered to my chair and sleeping on the floor next to me. I have three rules to new puppy ownership:
1) Never let them out of your sight.
2) Put them in their crate when rule #1 isn’t possible.
3) A tired puppy is a good puppy.
 

Things have a funny way of working out around here. Tomorrow we will be completing the final step in getting approved to adopt a new dog. We’ve applied, been interviewed, had our references checked, and visited a few prospective dogs. We just need to pass a home inspection and hopefully we will start to fill the empty space in our family.

I wasn’t sure I was ready for this step yet but I’m moving forward because things just seem to be falling into place and it is kind of like some kind of divine intervention is under way. This isn’t the first time I’ve had this kind of serendipity come into play when selecting a new dog after a tragedy.

Our first dog as a family was my first black lab, Sophie. We had been trying to get pregnant for almost 3 years when one of Steve’s co-workers’ dog had a litter of puppies. Both parents were purebred hunting labs but the litter was unplanned. (Don’t get me started on the stupidity of these particular dog owners, I don’t have the patience or space in this post.) In order to help me through my infertility depression and to give me something else to focus my mothering urges on we adopted Sophie right before Christmas 1992. On January 19, 1993 I found out that I was finally pregnant. Sophie taught me all about sleepless nights, crying jags, how to not barf when cleaning up shit and puke and many more valuable lessons in patience for a defenseless being that depends on you completely.

Fast forward to February 2000. Steve won a trip to the Cayman Islands for his company’s President’s Club. Sophie and the girls went to my parents’ house in Michigan for the week while we enjoyed some much needed sun and fun. We called every day to check in with the girls except one day we were out all day and didn’t have a chance to reach them. The next morning I opted to not join the other wives on an outing to the turtle farm and instead found a chair in the shade on the beach to enjoy some solitude and my book while the guys golfed. After getting comfortable and putting in a lunch order with the beach waitresses I noticed this large black, white and tan dog lounging under a tree. A family of four were trying to get her attention and coaxing her with food but she ignored them. I made a small attempt to get her attention by clicking my tongue and she came right over to me for an ear scratch. I commented to her big brown eyes that she reminded me of my Sophie. At this she made herself comfortable next to my chaise and stuck her large head under the table at my side. Sophie did the same thing every night next to our bed with the small round table where kept the alarm clock.

Finally that night we were able to reach home before going out for the big wrap up party. My parents were acting a little funny on the phone and were hesitating to put Sarah on the phone. Finally my Mom confessed that Sophie had been killed that morning. My dad had taken the dogs out at about 6 a.m. and being Michigan in February it was still dark. When Sophie didn’t come back to the garage with Liddy, his dog, he went looking for her. He figured she was out eating “road apples” in the horse corral. Unfortunately he found her body lying next to the road. He doesn’t even remember hearing a car pass in those early morning hours.

I was heartbroken. When we returned home the house was too quiet. When the girls spilled food on the floor, it went uneaten. I didn’t have to vacuum dog hair as often. There wasn’t anyone to put their head under my bedside table. I remembered back to that morning on the beach and realized that Sophie had come to say good-bye in some mystical way. We had been on that beach for 5 days in a row at the point. I always sat in the same general area (I avoid the sun). I had never seen that dog before or after that morning. She had gotten up and disappeared before anyone else from our group returned from their morning activities. She showed up there just for me and came and spent time with only me.

I started looking around on the web for pet loss grief resources. In my searching I came across a large, hairy tri-colored dog. It was the same kind of dog I met on that beach in Grand Cayman. It was a Bernese Mountain Dog. I read the description, did more Googling. This wasn’t a breed that one would expect to find on a tropical beach let alone as a stray. Then it seemed every where I looked I saw Berners. Driving through downtown Geneva, Illinois I saw a woman walking two beautiful Berners. I picked up a dog magazine, the featured breed, Berners. I joined a yahoo email group for Berner owners and people interested in the breed. I shared my story and asked a lot of questions. I asked if there was anyone local who would let me and my family meet their dog so we could judge for ourselves if this was the breed for us.

We were warned that the process for getting a BMD puppy was long and arduous. We could expect to wait anywhere from 6 months to over a year before we were approved by a breeder and matched with the right pup from the right litter. I did get an invitation from a nice young lady that lived in a suburb not far from us and very near my sister’s house to meet with her and her dog. After meeting her and exchanging many emails she finally confessed that her mother was a breeder in New Jersey. Not only that but she had an upcoming litter that may have available pups. Most of the prospective approved puppy buyers wanted males or females for showing. If the litter was predominantly female or the dogs turned out to not be acceptable show dogs there may be one available. Luck was on our side. Of the six pups three were female and two of those had white markings that were not acceptable to the breed standard. We interviewed with Ruth the breeder a number of times and evidently passed the test. Heidi has been a HUGE part of our family since Mother’s Day 2000. It was like it was just meant to happen.

Fast forward again to this past month. The week after saying good-bye to Shadow I was going through my blog-rolls on Google Reader. Scoutie Girl/Jan had a post about having her dog Scout’s leg amputated. The pictures of her gorgeous Scout stopped my breath. She had the same coloring as Heidi but was short haired, more like a Greater Swiss Mt. Dog, yet looked a little smaller than a Swissie and more hound/lab like. I almost couldn’t get through the post because of my still raw emotions. But at the very end of the post she mentioned the breed, Catahoula Leopard Dog.

I had never heard of this breed before and typed it into the search box on my toolbar. One of the first links was to petfinder.org. There was a long list of Catahoulas available and then something weird popped up in front of my eyes. The IL Catahoula rescue was based in South Elgin, IL. I can spit and hit South Elgin from my backyard (okay, kind of like Sarah Palin can see Russia from hers, but still it is right next door!) I looked at some pictures and read some descriptions. I also started looking at other dogs and other breeds available in our area. The seed had been planted. But it was too soon.

Every couple of days something would bring me back to looking at petfinder just to “browse” and see if anyone caught my eye. I kept seeing all those Catahoulas. Then there was a young German Shepherd that I liked and Steve thought looked promising. So finally last week I decided to at least make some inquiries and maybe fill out some adoption applications. While I was doing that I noticed that there was a new litter of pups listed from Catahoula Rescue. I couldn’t ignore the signs so I filled out an application with them too. On Saturday we went up to Huntley, Illinois to meet two Catahoula sisters and also to visit a shelter up there with the GSD. Then on Monday Emma and I drove all the way down to Manhattan, Illinois (3 hours round trip) to see the litter of 8 week old mix puppies. I’ve spent the last 48 hours trying to make a decision.

Tomorrow if everything goes as planned we should know if we get the dog I finally decided on. I’ll let you know and hopefully have some pictures. I’m praying that fate has put the right dog in our lives once again.

 
I had to say good-bye to my best friend today.
A month ago Shadow got a huge swelling lump on his neck. We thought it was an animal bite and he was on three weeks of antibiotics. It went away almost completely but last week it came back and he was gagging and vomiting. I took him in and they biopsied it and put him back on antibiotics. He was also x-rayed and it showed “haziness” in his chest and an inflamed spleen. He’s been getting progressively worse all week. Monday he had bloody vomit and quit eating. Yesterday he started collapsing. I got him to eat a little last night but he then had bloody diarrhea. This morning he collapsed again in the yard and I could tell he was miserable. I had my neighbor help me get him in the car and I took him in to the vet. The test results showed that it was an extremely rare malignant tumor on his salivary gland. There was nothing that could be done for him.

He’s at peace now. I’m not. Please indulge me while I remember what an awesome dog he was.

He came into our lives on Halloween 2001 as a rescue from CILRA. He was born and spent the first 6 months of his life in Indiana. The story we were told was that he was owned by a college student that didn’t have the time to give him the attention he needed. He was already crate trained and just wanted to be loved.

I took him to obedience classes and he loved it. But he was so attached to me that he couldn’t pass the sit-stays and down-stays because I was across the room and he just wanted to be at my side. He quickly learned to do what he was born to do, retrieve. I taught him to go out to the end of the driveway and get our newspaper in the morning. He loved that job so much that he decided he’d do it for the entire neighborhood. We’d wake up to 3 or 4 papers on our front step! One time when I was sick and slept in he went out the doggy door, over the fence, got the paper and returned the same way to bring me the paper in bed.

He came to us with the name Murphy but we didn’t think if suited him so we renamed him Shadow. It was the perfect name because he followed me everywhere like my shadow. If he was outside when I had to leave the house, he’d follow me. Numerous times I’d have to call the house to tell whoever was home to come to the end of the street and get him because he had followed my car. When we had our lake house he’d follow me when I took the kayak out. I finally just got him his own life vest and took him with me. People along the shore would point and comment on this funny dog paddling along side my kayak in perfect heel position. When I took him to the off leash dog park when all the other dogs were running ahead to greet other packs, he’d stop partway down the path, turn and look to me and only after I gave the okay would he go join in the fun. Even then, he’d soon return to my side where he was most happy.

A few years ago we had a scare when he was diagnosed with heartworm. It was at the same time that Heidi had to have emergency surgery for swallowing a ball of macrame twine. We nursed them both back to health and vowed to be more vigilant dog owners.
  
He was an old soul. He had such a mellow and sweet personality. He loved to cuddle. He’d wait for Steve to get up in the morning and then take his spot on the bed. When Steve was traveling he’d just take ownership of that side of the bed. Another part of his daily routine was to come into the bathroom when I was showering and sleep on the bath mat. I literally could not go anywhere in this house without him being a few steps away. Early on he started showing signs of separation anxiety and we would crate him when we left to help keep him calm. One time I was working on scrapbooks on my dining room table and had to leave quickly to go pick the girls up at school. I was only going to be gone maybe 10 minutes so I left him out. I returned to find paw prints on my latest layouts and other evidence that he had been standing on the table while I was gone! It was just his way of being near me in any way he could.

He will also be remembered as the stinkiest dog in the world! His farts could clear a room. One morning at the dog park he practically cleared the park with his incredibly noxious fumes! He found cat and deer poop to be a particular kind of delicacy but it didn’t agree with his digestive system and we all had to pay the price.

I can’t go without also mentioning the other heart break we experienced this week. Sarah’s cat Latte was killed by a wild animal Friday night. Our neighbors found him in the woods behind the pool on Saturday. We got him and his twin brother Leche from a local farm about 5 years ago. He was a huge white tom cat with gorgeous blue eyes. He would always sleep on my feet at night.
   
They will both be missed. I need a break from the heart break right now. I think I’ll go cuddle with Heidi, Leche and Ozzie.