Oliver

We played with Oliver today, a wire-haired pointing griffon who wore Lobo out.  He's a beautiful dog with grey and black markings and a proud head, and he was sporting a cool, clean summer do for the briefest of moments before he and Lobo found adventure in the many puddles around both the South and North legs of the Acadia Dog Park (known as Southland to most of us).

Lobo meets new dogs with enthusiasm.  A bounce of 'hello' beside them.  A tail wag and a sniff.  And if he deems them worthy, he might play for a bit before raising his head to the wind and sauntering off in a more interesting direction.  Oliver, however, captured Lobo's attention for a good two hours.  They boxed, they ran, they shared a common love for certain smells.  They used their precious exercise time well.

For the most part, Oliver was never at a loss for conversation, what with his constant stream of plaintive yelps to keep the fun alive.  And while Lobo is usually immune to this type of chatter, he listened politely and seemed willing to have a vigorous go with his new friend as long as they stopped periodically to catch their breath.

Oliver is just over a year old.  His Mom and Dad knew exactly what they wanted when they decided, after 25 years of relative doglessness, to search for the perfect pet.  In his research Dad discovered breeders in California and Quebec.  They made the three-day drive west to bring their new puppy home (I'd have gone that way, too, with a little Disneyland detour), a day before his eight-week birthday.

However, the dog that had been set aside for them was not the dog they'd envisioned.  After such a long trek, they must have been disappointed to discover that they might have to turn back empty-handed.  But the breeder brought another pick of her 21 Griffons into the yard to meet the couple, and this one, walking proudly, head up, eager to meet them, was the Oliver they'd been looking for.

I know nothing of what makes a dog special to his breed.  All I know is what makes Lobo special to me.  And I could tell by the way Mom talked about him that Oliver was more than his lines and coat and what-have-you to her.  He could be a perfect example of Griffon-ness, but he's also personality and love, and that's why he's living in Calgary, and why Mom dropped a day of work from her regular schedule to add a day of play to Oliver's regime.

It's fabulous - isn't it? - what great lengths (literally) we'll go to to be with our pets.

Rescue Dog

Melodrama alert!

Lobo saved my life.  True.

Not in one of those courageous acts you see on TV - you know the ones:  dog steps between hungry cougar and child; dog swims out and pulls flailing man to shore; dog runs to farmhouse and barks until occupants spot overturned car on lonely highway. Those are spectacular displays of intelligence and courage and loyalty, and while Lobo has yet to exhibit such a feat of bravery (which I'm certain he's capable of), his sheer joyful existence has been enough to save me from myself.

We found Lobo through ARF in August, 2009. He was less than six months old, living with a pack of 20 dogs on the Tsuu T'ina Reservation, struggling to find food, and failing to outrun the pellets that were being used on him for target practice. After he spent ten days with an extremely patient and caring foster family, we brought him to our home, eager to show him that a dog's life could really be a dog's life.

He hid under the deck.

Before my husband and I made the decision to adopt a rescue dog, I'd done a lot of reading. Blogs (two of the most informative I've posted on the right), several library books, and my favourite, The Complete Idiot's Guide to Positive Dog Training by Pamela Dennison, which I eventually bought and still refer to often.  Lobo hadn't done any research at all. It's a wonder he saw through all our bumbling, came out from under the deck, and allowed us to love him anyway.

(The cheese didn't hurt. But don't tell our vet - it was only used in those first few weeks and only in emergencies.)

From the dog who yelped at the first sight of himself in a mirror, who pulled his leash in the opposite direction whenever we encountered another dog on our walks, to the dog who waits impatiently for the signal to hop out of the car and explore the visitors at the off-leash park, Lobo's made quite the transition.  But as much as he's changed because my husband and I are committed to spending quality time with him, it's nothing compared to what he's done for me.

Our gorgeous Heinz 57 got my lead-filled butt off the couch and back to a positive reality. I'd been eating my way through litres of Breyers ice cream, shunning my favourite books for 'Lost' reruns and hours of Solitaire on the computer, and pretty much only existing in sleep and work modes. Clinical Depression and I had a solid relationship. If you've met, I'm sorry. I know what it's like to try to numb your brain so that you don't have to listen to it shouting at you anymore.

Loving Lobo shut my brain up, simple as that. I walked him twice a day. Not because some rude inner voice was berating me, but because I wanted to.  The Vitamin D alone has been enough to lift my spirits, but then there's all that exercise!  I researched dog food and began making my own - and yes, some of what's good for puppy (carrots, brocolli, blueberries) happens to be very good for Mom and Dad, too.  I would have settled for feeling as good as I do, but then the weight started coming off, I rediscovered my love for reading and writing, I began sleeping better.

Don't get me wrong, the endorphins aren't enough all the time, but when a crying jag wants to get hold of me I just get hold of my dog and have a restorative cuddle. Crisis averted.

So the rescue puppy rescued me.  Good dog!

One of my favourite new things is finding out how dogs have enriched other people's lives.  A couple hours a day at the off-leash park satisfies much of my curiosity. It's amazing how many fabulous stories are out there.

I'd like to tell you some of them.