It was a mere month after the September 11 attacks on America. My soldier husband was pulling guard duty on our small base overseas. I was sitting outside our building with friends, basking in the fading warmth of summer and the oncoming crispness that autumn was bringing.
Hubby came home for a quick stop to pick something up at the apartment. When he pulled up in his humvee and stepped out, I walked over to see what was going on. He looked at me with such excitement as he told me that he knew someone that was looking for a new home for their dog. And not just any dog, he assured me – it was a black lab. I just looked at him. A dog.
My husband loves dogs. Any dog. He doesn't hesitate to make friends with any dog that happens to cross his path. When I see my Hubby and the man he has become, kneeling down and scratching behind a dog's ears, I see the little boy inside of him. It's very sweet.
I am a cat person. Dogs are too rambunctious for me. They jump and lick and run around. Cats are quiet, independent and come cuddle and purr.
But my husband knew that there is only one breed of dog that I really like. Labs have a spot in my heart – burrowed there by the labs that my brother has raised. Sweet, intelligent dogs that look at you with that look. I couldn't say no. Especially since my dear Hubby is allergic to cats, yet he let me get two. For the first year of our kittens' lives, Hubby sneezed and wheezed and popped allergy pills until he overcame this allergy, just to make me happy. How could I say no?
So the next day, we went to "look at" this dog. And there he was – a bundle of energy that bounded towards us when we walked in the door. He came to us with a smile on his face and that long tail just swinging from side to side. I'm pretty sure that my husband knew that if he could get me out the door with the dog, then he would be home free.
And so it was that we took him home. And he was so excited to just be there. It wasn't until the next day that Hubby settled on a name for this new addition to our family – Fred.
Fred.
And so our lives moved on. Fred moved in, and turned our lives slightly upside down. It is a fortunate thing for both Fred and Hubby that I was well aware of what was ahead for us with this little bundle of energy. He was somewhere around six to seven months old when we adopted him. I worked quickly to establish dominance over the pup. If he was going to live in our home, there had to be rules, and he had to be made well aware of them. We were lucky in that he was mostly housebroken. But he was still a puppy, and Labrador puppies are notorious for their teething.
Ah…the chewing stage. I knew about this one. And I came at it prepared. We worked out a method for confining Fred in the apartment in such a way that he would not be a danger to himself or our possessions. I would become fanatical about putting things away. My husband had to learn this lesson the hard way. He lost shoes to the gnawing machine that was our dog. Every remote control in the house was eaten within the period of a week. Pieces of furniture met their fate at the jaws of Fred. The baseboards in our apartment fell prey. TV Guides and magazines didn't stand a chance. It would appear that Fred was a fan of Stephen King, as "reading" The Talisman wasn't enough, Fred had to "read" Black House to know how the story ended.
We became accustomed to coming home and opening the door with trepidation. As the door opened, our eyes would quickly scan the room to see what had fallen prey this time. When my favorite pair of shoes were lost to the dog, I remember the first words out of my husband's mouth, "Don't kill him…I'll buy you a new pair!" Right. Those shoes were from two seasons ago…good luck with that! All I could do was shake my head.
Our neighbors would laugh at us – they always knew that Fred had been up to no good when we opened the door and the first words out of our mouths were, "Oh, Fred!" But that's OK – their day came when they, too, brought home a dog.
Yet somehow, even though I kept telling Fred that he was only with us on a trial basis, he burrowed his way into my heart. Time passed and he outgrew the bothersome chewing phase. He became free to roam the apartment in our absence. We tried to keep him off the furniture at first, but he quickly did away with that rule. I think that the turning point was when Hubby walked in and found Fred sprawled on the couch, his head buried under pillows to block out the light and sounds from the TV.
Fred does this to us often. In his own goofy way, he endears himself to us just by making us laugh at him. And it's not just us that fall victim to this ploy. Everyone that meets Fred falls in love. He makes an everlasting impression on everyone.
Fred has been with us for five years now. I don't remember what life was like before he trod into our lives with his big, clumsy paws and that crazy tail that serves as a meter for his emotions. How did we cope without having someone anxiously awaiting our arrival at the door every evening – jumping and cheering at us for remembering to come home. And where were we before we had someone that would hang his head so low in sorrow and tuck his tail low every time we would walk out the door?
He truly is a great dog. There have certainly been times when I've had my doubts about bringing him home. Most of those times have been when he would bolt out the door of our tiny apartment in search of the open outdoors. Chasing Fred across open fields was not in my contract.
But I wouldn't trade Fred for anything.
As the time approached for my husband and I to start planning our return to the States, people would ask us if we were taking Fred with us. This question always shocked and appalled me. I was suddenly met with a vision of Hubby, the cats and I at the Frankfurt airport – clearing customs and turning around to wave goodbye to Fred. Thanks for being a great dog and good luck to you. He would be standing there, hanging his head and looking up at us, tail tucked between his legs.
No – of course Fred would be coming with us. We would have to make arrangements on our own to get him back with us and figure out where we would all be living upon our arrival, but Fred is family. Where we go, he goes.
When Hubby and I moved out to California from our beloved Florida, we had to leave Fred and the cats behind, if only temporary. Living in a hotel is no life for animals, and we wanted to be in our house before bringing the critters out to live with us again. For the first time in years, we were living in a home without animals, and it was lonely.
Eventually, Fred and the cats were ferried out to us, and the house wasn't so empty anymore. Personality and warmth were restored to our home lives. Fred, true to character, greeted his new home as he greeted every new home – by charging in the door and running in circles, his little nose working overtime to try and figure out where he was and how all of his stuff got here before he did. He would turn out to be a much better house dog than an apartment dog. Having a fenced in area for him to roam has made all the difference. He knows which door is his, and which doors he cannot cross the threshold of without permission. My days of chasing him across the neighborhood seem to be over.
Fred has changed our lives in so many ways. His influence is ingrained in us – we've bought a bigger bed so that he can sleep with us. Our furniture is large and dark in color – to accommodate both his size and his shedding habits. When we were looking for a house to buy, it couldn't be on a busy road, it had to have a yard, we preferred the yard to be fenced and we preferred carpet to wood floors. All because of Fred.
Since opening our home to this stray – we're his third family - he has opened my eyes and my heart to new possibilities. As time has progressed and our relationship has grown, I can't imagine living in a home without him. Faithful Fred. He's always there, happy to see us come home, sorry to see us go. Our own personal cheering squad. He offers comfort and companionship. An ear that is always listening and the sweet face of intelligent kindness. All he wants to do is make you happy, and maybe persuade you to throw his ball for him.
I don't know if I'll ever be able to warm up to another dog quite like I have Fred. He has been so patient with us – training us to be the perfect people for him. I hope that we manage to live up to his expectations.
No comments:
Post a Comment