Meet Jarlaxle April 18, 2008Posted by Toy Lady in Big Lug, Family, Home.
And here we are. New pet parents. Jarlaxle is the classic “big black dog” – the ones that are supposed to be unadoptable, or at least less adoptable than, I don’t know, brown and white spotted dogs, I guess.
We’ve been “thinking” about a dog for a while now, especially since my last trip to the doctor’s office when they made me get on a scale. It turns out that, since quitting smoking 2 years ago, I now weigh more than I did when I went to the hospital to give birth to Surly Boy.
Sadly, I know myself well enough to know that I’m not about to commit to a gym or start working out or doing something that mind-numbingly dull. I mean, how do you get motivated to pay money, get up early, and drive to a gym so you can . . . exercise? I mean – YAWN. However, if there’s a dog that needs to go out, and there’s an “accident” on the line, OK, I’ll walk. And walk and walk if I have to. So, maybe something older and calmer, rather than a puppy, sort of mid-size (it’s a small house!), and NOT a drooler. Definitely don’t want to do dog slobber, right?
So after some discussion, we decided that, rather than go looking for a specific breed of dog, we’d rather adopt a “pre-enjoyed” dog. Seriously, there are lots of animals out there that are looking for homes, through no fault of their own. And while it seems that euthanasia is a last resort for most of the shelters these days, living in an institution like that is no life for a dog.
After a couple of disappointments, last Sunday afternoon, we took a drive downtown to the municipal Animal Shelter to see what was there. And that’s where we found him. He was just sort of lying there in his cage watching what was going on, but not really engaged. He just looked so sad and lonely. When the volunteer brought the leash over to take him out (for a “visit”), he just wagged his tail – that’s it. He was pleased. No jumping, no barking, no freaking out. Just pleased.
The shelter tells us he was picked up as a stray, and after a week, no one had claimed him. They estimate him to be about 6 months old, and call him a “lab mix.” His fur is a bit thicker than a pure lab’s would be, though not much longer, and based on the size of his neck and feet, we suspect there’s at least a little Newfoundland in that mix.
It’s so good to have a plan. We knew exactly what we were looking for
something older and calmer, rather than a puppy, sort of mid-size (it’s a small house!), and NOT a drooler
and ended up with a half-grown lab-mix pup, that’s sure to be HUGE, and a kitchen floor already literally covered in doggie slobber. Yup. I love it when a plan comes together.
Oh, and as an added bonus, we’ve got a seriously pissed off kitty who hasn’t left the space between the drape and the window since we got home last night.
And he’s not an awful lot better; I’m sitting at the desk, with Stupor Kitty in the window growling, and Jarlaxle the Dopey Dog behind me growling back. And I’m in the middle.
This is gonna be fun.