Our dog Max is a Doberman mix that we found at the local humane society twelve years ago. We went in "just to visit the dogs" when my sons were seven and nine years old. A year before, I'd moved us out of the upstairs apartment we'd lived in since we'd become a one-parent family, and bought a small duplex that seemed like it had room for everything we wanted or wanted to do. It also had a fenced back yard.
The boys begged me for a dog, and I kept the idea in the back of my mind. Growing up, I had always had a dog, a faithful companion. I wanted to make my boys' lives as normal as I could. So that day when we went "just to visit," my heart overruled any logic I had and we took one dog into the visiting room to play with. The beagle mix didn't seem that interested in us, so we went back to the small-to-medium dog room. All the dogs were barking at us, except for one. In the corner, a large, shiny black and tan pup was standing on his hind legs, front paws on the edge of his pen. He was 10 months old and some 50 pounds. Oh, no, I thought to myself, he's too big.
But we were drawn to him, and we took him into a room to visit. He put his head in our laps. He hopped and played and nudged us. He was 50 pounds of love, and we fell in love with him.
We filled out all the papers and took him home to "foster" in case it just didn't work out. The first night we had him home, after the boys went to bed I sat on the living room floor petting him and accepting his unconditional affection. I remember crying and hugging him. I said, "You just want to be loved like everyone else, don't you?"
After fostering him for a while, we decided he was the dog for us. We had to get him adjusted to home life, because he had been in shelters since birth and had never lived in a house. He was worth the time it took and was an incredible addition to our family. He gained 25 pounds and became much larger than what I was looking for, but none of that mattered.
Four years later I had an itch to get a companion dog for Max. Against my better judgment, we went back to the humane society shelter and found Ringo, a 2 year-old Australian Shepherd - Doberman mix (so we were told - we still aren't sure). Ringo and Max get along incredibly well, and they have been happy together for the past eight years.
This weekend I decided it was bath time for both the dogs. Ringo got a trip to the groomer on Friday, where her massive shedding hair was washed and brushed until she looked like a new dog. The humane society was advertising a dog wash for today, so I hoped to take Max there, but his old hips and back legs don't work so well anymore. Getting him in the car is an ordeal. But I had to try.
I got the car ready, a blanket in the back seat. I put my purse in the car and with my keys in my hand I led Max outside. He loves to take rides and wanted to get in the car, but his fear of falling is stronger than his desire for a ride. I crawled into the back seat, threw my keys in the front, and coaxed him, gently tugging on the leash. Finally he put his front legs on the seat and I half shoved, half lifted him into the car. Victory!
I closed the back door of the car so he wouldn't try to get out. And heard a click.
I tried the driver's side door.
The car had automatically locked me out, and my dog IN the car. Also, my purse with the spare key was locked in the car. Nuts!
Fortunately I had not locked the back door of my house yet, so I went inside and searched for a spare key or an extra keyless remote. No key, but I found a remote with a dead battery. I also found a spare battery!
I had to find a tiny screwdriver to open the back of the remote. I looked outside. The car windows were getting steamed up from the hot dog breath filling the interior.
A tiny screwdriver was located and I popped the remote apart, dropping a small piece that fell out of SOMEWHERE. When the new battery was in, I tried to get the remote back together and place the tiny piece where I thought it belonged. Upside down. Finally I got it right, happy that I would not have to call the lock and key place to get my dog out of the car.
I went outside, pointed the remote at my car and pushed the unlock button. The remote lit up like it should, but no sound came from my car. The darn thing didn't work!
I searched the house again, found a different remote that looked the like the wrong one - but it DID work. I have never been so thrilled to hear my car door unlock.
Finally we were on our way to the dog wash, which turned out happily ever after, with friendly, helpful staff who helped me get Max OUT of the car and back INTO the car after his bath. All is well. Two clean dogs. Sense of humor intact.
Through all of this, my quiet giant of a dog was patient, loving, and friendly with everyone who passed his nose. He is my role model.
Dogs are great, aren't they?
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