Best Friend Part III

Da'shain (poodle) running with Hershey (Doberman)

The next chapter of this story is actually a little different and has so many different parts; I’m not sure where to start. There is really no beginning to it, and no end either...I’ll try at least to start at the beginning of the idea…

In the beginning the idea was that my husband, who has been a part of this story from the very beginning) simply loves dogs; all dogs. Rottweiler, Golden Retriever, Bichon, Poodle, mutt, he loves dogs. All of his dogs before meeting me had been rescues. I, on the other hand, love dogs, but I love the variety of breeds there are out there, the differences unique to each one. I don’t discriminate against mixed breeds/mutts, but I like knowing working breed, lap breed, laid back breed, etc…and I have my favorites….that’s just me.

Actually, when we went looking for a second dog, we did visit the shelter. Unfortunately we didn’t find a dog that would both get along with Dare and not trigger my allergies. Since there is a lot of information out there about poodles, and we knew they had the same type of hair that Dare does (and therefore not trigger my allergies) we “settled” on purchasing a poodle puppy. We thought “someday” we’d rescue a dog, just wouldn’t be at that time (this was also when I only knew about shelters/pounds and knew nothing of non-profit rescues, of which there are many.

Time passed…we kept taking Da’shain out to the river, to my mom’s Christmas tree farm up in Idaho, to the beach, anywhere he could run and play fetch (Dare came along too of course, but he was happy just poking along). He behaved so much better off leash than on that we didn’t try hard to leash train him. Da’shain was just so happy. I remember the first time we took him to the ocean, he played tag with the waves – we’d throw the ball into the surf, and he’d run up and grab it and jump back before the next wave came in. But the next time we came out to the beach he’d forgotten he knew what sand was and he was literally terrified of walking on the sand. Finally, we got him settled down on the wet sand and he forgot everything else except his joy in running free and chasing the ball.

As I’ve stated before, we also kept taking him to the dog parks, he’d become quite confident enough to just ignore the other dogs, but I’d be so happy when he decided to play with dogs he thought were “worthy”. He had a Standard Poodle friend, a Golden Retriever/Poodle friend and (here’s the segue into the next part of the story) one day he met a Doberman Pincher. Other dobes we’d met in the park had really liked Da’shain, but he’d been iffy about them. This Doberman was a beautiful boy and still had puppy energy in him. He was black and rust, lean, sleek and elegant and graceful. I’d already loved Dobermans since I was little, but I fell in love all over again, especially once the friendly guy and I got acquainted and I realized I wasn’t allergic to him. He and Da’shain were quite friendly, he played with Da’shain for a bit, but also gave him space (which I know now could be because the dobe also needed his own personal space).

At this point, we already had two dogs, and were planning on moving (somewhere we weren’t sure where, just knew out of state). Still, me being me, I kept bugging my husband for a doberman puppy. Of course I really was half joking, we couldn’t take on a new puppy and introduce them to our boys and then put the Doberman puppy AND our boys through the stress of a move. Not to mention – we couldn’t really afford it (see, above note about moving). Still, I kept looking, I couldn’t not.

Then my husband mentioned something I hadn’t thought of – what about a rescue dog instead of a puppy? Of course, he mentioned it, not for right away, but for thoughts for the future. So I looked up rescues in what would be our new “home” state and found one.

We moved, we went through the adoption application, phone interview had a few tantalizing hits on dogs but none of them seemed right. Browsing the rescue’s pages you read about how they really need foster homes, homes where the dog can stay for a while, learn basic manners if they have none and just be around family until they’re adopted. My husband and I talked and talked about it, turning the idea around in our minds and eventually decided we’d like to be a part of volunteering with the rescue and fostering.

As I close out this chapter, I realize this has been more of pivot chapter about the next dog that we welcomed in to our home than a post about a new dog. Her name was (still is I believe) Hershey. The above paragraph about fostering? Yeah, we volunteered and Hershey was our first foster. In Part IV I’ll tell you all about her introduction to our little family – including the fact that I brought her home, walked inside and said “baby, you know how we’d been talking about fostering? Well, can you help me get this dober girl out of the Jeep?” LOVE my husband, he didn't blink an eye.