THE ART OF OBSERVING

This week a decade ago, I adopted Rue, my husky-shepherd-malamute fluffer doggo.

It’s mostly because of my mentor, Erin Murphy, but also very much my mother-in-law’s fault.

And it’s a wonderful origin story.

Throughout the years we’ve worked together, Erin showed me pictures of her dogs, who are adorable and I also got a bit of pressure from my husband (another dog lover). I was very determined to stay a cat person, even though I didn’t want to have cats either. I was happily pet-free, with an immaculate yard and house (LOL). I also had a husband deathly allergic to animal fur and dust. It was decided. We would be fine without pets.

Backing up a bit, I always had cats as a child. My siblings and I raised Butterscotch and Dusty Rose from kittens. And then Dusty Rose decided she was a barn cat and abandoned me. I then lived for a year away from home and came home to my youngest sister, Lindsay’s dog, Moses or Mosey, who was slightly terrifying, but had a good soul. Mosey was a Malamute shepherd mix. He was a big dog, all white, tons of fur, just a friendly, happy guy.

Every day, he wandered up the long uphill gravel driveway walking behind me while I fetched the mail and he patrolled the orchard (we lived up in the wooded hills overlooking the Willamette Valley in Oregon). He did not set a toenail over the property line nor did he attempt to walk on Mom’s deck (he was not allowed on the deck) or in the carport (he was not allowed in the carport or the house). He was a very good dog, unless he decided to chase porcupines (another story for another day). He lived in a comfy dog house in the wood shed and patrolled the property faithfully.

He also was a medical alert dog for my sister who often spent entire days in the barn down the hill with her rabbits. She could not spike a fever and Mosey knew to run up the hill and get us if she ever did. Thank goodness, she did not. But we all grew to love Mosey.

And then I moved out and got married and left Oregon behind and having a pet was just not something I was interested in.

Fast forward to 2013. I had been regularly shown adorable pics of dogs by Erin and then my mother in law came to visit, and for funsies, she suggested we go look at animal shelters at dogs.

So I said, I want a dog like Mosey was, Malamute, Husky, shepherd. I figured there would NEVER be a dog like Mosey in any shelter.

Never say never.

Day One: We first found a one-year-old husky, with one bright blue eye. But we were too late and he got adopted. Not before my mother-in-law and husband dragged me to a pet supply store and helped me buy stuff for a dog I didn’t even know I was going to adopt. It was getting serious now.

My mother-in-law lives in Florida and loves animals of all kinds. LOVES them. So she was plotting with my husband and I know that if she could have, she would have adopted a few dogs and hauled them back home too. But although the plot feels nefarious, now, I’m so glad for it. I needed the two of them to push me a bit.

Day Two: We saw that the Seattle Humane Society had Husky puppies, so we headed there. The staff didn’t like the idea of me adopting a Husky puppy for some reason (Humane Society staff may have been able to tell I was being pushed into adopting a Husky, and so they decided to try and distract me with a year old dog that was “less active” and not so “puppy”).

They ushered us into a greeting area with a black lab that ended up having explosive diarrhea. We skedaddled out of there and asked again to see the Husky puppies. Alas, we could not. Since we had been in contact with the black lab, it was not safe for us to see any other dogs. I expressed my dismay at being denied the chance to see the puppies, since I had not asked to see the black lab. So they gave me a voucher, walked me to the Husky puppy pen and through a glass door, told me to pick one of the puppies.

I knew immediately which one I wanted. Rue, all gray and so fluffy (then named Heidi) was flopped on her belly, looking bored while her pack of brothers, all black and sleeker, galloped all around her and one of them even stood on her head. She didn’t even react, just continued to look bored.

“That’s the one.” I said. So I went home with a 24-hour hold on a Husky puppy. They said I could come back tomorrow and I would get first dibs.

I went home deflated. Did I want a puppy that I didn’t get to even meet? My husband and mother-in-law assured me that I would get to meet her, but my mother-in-law was on a plane the next morning and my husband was back to work, so after all of that, I had to go and pick up my puppy on my own.

Day Three: We bought special doggie treats and my mother-in-law flew back to Florida. I drove back to the Humane Society and was astonished to find a long line waiting outside the door. The volunteer told me “They are here for the last Husky puppy.” And then I showed her my piece of paper. “Oh,” she said, “they are waiting to see if you take her or not.”

I finally end up in a greeting area with Heidi/Rue. This puppy had a mind of her own. She wanted nothing to do with me. Wouldn’t let me even pet her or pick her up. She kept wandering toward my purse (where I had put the treats) like a land shark, watching me, watching my purse, or mostly staring off into space, as if I was so boring. I called my husband in a panic. “She doesn’t even like me!” I wailed.

He told me to be patient. “Let her come to you.” I waited an entire hour in vain. Heidi/Rue was just not interested. But I had to decide. If I left her there, she would be adopted by someone else. This was my one chance.

I went toward her to pick her up. This startled her and she peed, but let me pick her up. I think we were both so nervous and she could tell I just wasn’t sure. Smart girl.

They took her away from me to do her exit check-up. I remember staring at her paperwork, wondering if I was doing the right thing. She was so little. She was eight weeks old, 13 pounds, and would need to be trained. But I signed the paperwork, picked out a pink leash and collar, paid the money, and sat back down in a chair to wait. The line out the door disappeared after they found out I adopted the last puppy.

I felt like I had made a huge mistake. I stood up and looked longingly into the cat room. LOL.

But then they handed her over in her pink collar, a squirming pile of fluff in a towel, and she licked my chin. The littlest little lick ever. And I knew I had made the right decision.

I tried to put her in a safe box on the floor of the passenger side of my car for the car ride, but she climbed up into my arms and slept on my lap as I drove home with the air conditioning blowing her fur (she still loves that).

She walked into her new backyard, plopped her belly into the grass, and promptly took a nap.

We’ve had each other for ten years.

It’s been wonderful. (Thanks, Erin, and Mom Lawrence.) Really.