“Honey, where are you right now?” asked my husband, Jason, calmly, yet with concern.
“I am at a red-light at Flintridge and Academy.”
“Ok, well, I need you to get home as soon as possible.”
“Why? What’s wrong?’
“I just need you to get home right now!”
Well, for the first time in my life I intentionally ran a red light onto Flintridge the street leading to our Colorado home on a bluff. Thoughts were racing through my mind, as to what possibly could have gone wrong, since Jason rarely wouldn’t provide an explanation as to why I was needed. I was actually anxious about leaving the house this particular morning to attend our neighbor’s funeral, as I had just adopted the day before a male Golden Retriever mix who hadn’t quite acclimated to our home or our dog, Howard. Drover’s foster parent assured me that if I had another pup at home, Drover (the name the agency gave him) would be fine. However, hearing the concern in Jason’s voice, I wasn’t so sure.
Is Drover dead?
Do I have to call the Golden Retriever Rescue and explain that my dog killed the dog I had just rescued from them?
Wait, did Drover, the rescue, kill my dog, Howard?
Even worse, did the dogs kill each other?
These were the dark thoughts swirling around in my head. I knew something was up because of the heaviness in Jason’s tone. I was bracing myself for what might be at my home as I raced down Flintridge.
Several months before this concerned call from my husband, I had applied and was accepted for ownership eligibility of a rescue dog from the Golden Retriever Rescue in Colorado. We actually were accepted as a family, but I am emphasizing “I” here because it was I who was gently (or if I am being honest, forcefully) pushing our family into getting another Golden Retriever.
Our beautiful and beloved Golden Retriever, Jay, who looked more like an Irish Setter than a Golden because of his stunning red fur, passed away 2 years prior to my application. My heart was so broken after losing him, as he was my constant companion, walking partner and comforter for nearly 8 years before he passed away from a botched surgery to remove an intestinal tumor.
Losing Jay was extremely hard on me and it was difficult to get out of bed in the mornings after his death, because he was no longer there at my bedside and the constant reminder of his loss each morning was awful. A year before Jay’s death, we had become owners of a new puppy, a lively Border Collie mix. However, unlike Jay, Howard was and still is more focused on work rather than companionship. In fact, I received a demotion once Jay died and Howard became the Alpha male. With Jay, I was top on the list of objects of affection:
Jay’s Objects of Affection:
1. Mommy (Me)
2. Walks with Mommy
3. Sitting with Mommy
4. Washing dishes with Mommy
5. Sleeping at Mommy’s bedside
6. Food
7. Retrieving the newspaper
8. Mommy
Whereas, Howard’s Objects of Affection list looks a bit different:
1. Food
2. Food
3. Food
4. Ball
5. Mommy throwing ball
6. Chasing bunnies
7. Terrorizing squirrels
8. Herding deer frolicking in our backyard
9. Doing tricks for Food
10. And then, Mommy
As one can clearly see, I was demoted with Howard and no longer held the significance that I had with Jay. I missed the constant companionship of my Golden Retriever and was laser-focused on getting another one. After months of daily perusing the Golden Retriever Rescue website, I finally found the pup for our family, Drover, and he greatly resembled our Jay with his fur leaning more towards red than golden. He was a 1-year-old male and needed a loving home. With the exception of his name, I was sold! I would most certainly change the name later.
I drove up to Golden, Colorado about an hour and half from our home with Howard to meet at a park with the hopes that the two dogs would get along. The foster parent, Pat, and I took the fellas on a walk together, side by side. They seemed content with one another, although Howard did exhibit some signs of jealously when I showed affection towards Drover, but I figured that was to be expected. So I loaded Howard up into our Ford Expedition and drove home with such excitement to tell the family that I finally found our guy.
We took that evening to deliberate the idea of bringing home this Golden Retriever and of course, our little ladies, ages 11 and nearly 8, were thrilled about the prospect of getting another dog. Selah and Asabella had such fond memories of Jay sitting at our feet under the homeschool table every weekday morning. They knew the loving companionship of a Golden and of course, Jason wanted me to be happy. So we agreed that the girls and I would drive to Fort Collins the next day to pick up our new dog.
Jason and I searched several websites as to how to introduce a dog to a new home with an existing dog because we wanted to have no hiccups. And like I said, the foster parent, Pat, assured me that Drover would do well with another dog around since he had been living in a foster home with three other Goldens and he would benefit having people around during the day which was perfect since we are a homeschool family.
She did mention, however, that Drover, had been found on the streets of Oklahoma as a stray and was probably on his own for his entire puppyhood. With that experience, she found that he struggled a bit with anxiety now that he was in a safe home, but again assured me that having another dog around and the nature of our family life surrounding our home, Drover would do great! So off Drover went into the backseat of my car and on the laps of my daughters, as we tossed around new names for him on the long ride home. I finally found my Golden Retriever replacement or so I thought.
The introduction of Drover to Howard and to our home went well that first night. The only two issues arising were:
1. Howard was reluctant to share his toys and
2. Drover didn’t want to be left alone.
If I left the room, Drover would either follow me or find Jason or the girls and stay by their sides. Thankfully, Drover made it through the first night, although he was a bit restless, not sure where to lay his head for the night. I was able to release a heavy sigh of relief for making it through the first night, but now was the true test, as we all were heading out for several hours to attend our neighbor’s funeral. I was reluctant to leave, but I knew that I needed to support our neighbor’s family. I just had to let go and trust the words of Drover’s foster parent. With that assurance, the girls and I left for the funeral, driving separately from Jason who had already left earlier that morning.
Then, Jason’s call came and I was racing down Flintridge, preparing myself for the worst case scenario. I sped around the corner to our house and down our driveway, dreading what I was about to encounter. I pulled up to the house and Drover dashed out of the front door into our fenced-in yard to greet me at the side of the house.
“Oh, thank God!” I thought to myself, “Drover is alive and there is no blood.”
But then my mind raced to Howard. “Oh, no, Howard’s dead!”
But then seconds later, Howard came meandering out the front door to greet us and again there was no blood. I joyously exclaimed, “Oh, thank God! Both dogs are alive and there’s no blood or injuries!”
So I am thinking at this point, what was the big deal here? Why did Jason sound so concerned? Both dogs were alive and well. What could possibly be wrong?
Then Jason entered the scene in the front yard. “Honey, I need you to come inside!”
So I came around to the front door and there in our entryway was our bamboo runner on the hallway floor completely torn apart. The hallway blinds utterly destroyed and torn to pieces. As I cautiously navigated the destruction, Jason also pointed out to me all the scratched baseboards and molding around every entrance/exit to our home - the front door moldings, the sliding glass door moldings, and the side door moldings - almost unrecognizable.
A part of me chuckled because compared to what I was conjuring up in my mind - dead dogs covered in blood - this was nothing, but I knew that to my husband, this destruction zone was completely stressful and unacceptable, considering we were in the process of putting our house up for sale to move to Arizona. I was told politely to take care of the mess.
Well, with a sigh of relief that both dogs were alive, I began to tackle the mess, and made calls to the foster parent, as well as dog behaviorists to see what I could possibly do to help this rescue. After numerous calls, it was confirmed that Drover had severe separation anxiety and it would take months of training to help him overcome his condition, or if he would be able to ever overcome it at all. With this news and the fact that he also went after our cat, we knew that the best decision was for us to return Drover to his foster parent where he could get the proper care and attention that he needed and attention that I was under equipped and overwhelmed to provide.
Our girls were so sad that evening when we sat down to tell them the news of Drover needing to be returned. They enjoyed being greeted with kisses in their beds that morning by Drover which rarely happened with Howard. We reassured them that this was the best decision, as we were ill-equipped to help him. These are the decisions that are so painful to make as parents, especially when tears are rolling down their little faces. Awful!
So the next morning the girls said their goodbyes to Drover, as I dropped them off at the homeschool cooperative and off I trekked to Golden, Colorado an agreeable midpoint between Colorado Springs and Fort Collins to deliver Drover back to Pat. Thankfully, she completely understood our decision and apologized for not knowing how Drover would react to cats. I handed Drover’s leash over to Pat, glanced at that beautiful red Golden one last time and walked away with tears in my eyes, coming to terms with the fact that no pup would ever replace my Jay! My heart was heavy. I was grieving my guy, Jay, all over again.
When I arrived back to Colorado Springs, it was already time to pick up our girls from their cooperative, but I decided to make a quick stop home first before I headed to their school. I found a bright green bow and tied it around Howard’s neck and loaded him into the backseat of our Ford. I realized that I needed to embrace Howard for the gift he truly was and is to our family and to stop my wandering eye from trying to find a replacement for Jay and not accept the sweet pup who was already right in front of me.
In spite of my demotion, Howard was and is a great dog. I realized that I needed to grieve Jay rather then replace Jay and I needed to embrace Howard with all his amazing unique qualities - no matter how unlike Jay’s qualities they were. Howard needed to be my focus now.
So off I drove with the green-bowed little Border Collie in the backseat to greet our girls at the end of a long day and honestly, 2 long years of stuffed grief. Selah and Asabella were delighted to see Howard in the backseat of the car with his bow.
“Mommy, what is Howard doing here with the bow?”asked Selah.
“Well, I know you are both sad about Drover, but I didn’t want us to miss the gift that Howard has been to us. I feel like I have missed that in all my sadness around Jay!”
They both crawled into the backseat and gave Howard a big hug and sandwiched him between them on the ride home. It was a bittersweet day, having to save goodbye to the possibility of having a Golden again, but simultaneously having my eyes open to the gift that was already right in front of me.
An Amendment to the Above Tale:
Six months later after this destructive incident, our family shared our tale of the Golden rescue with guests at our table at my stepfather’s retirement party. We all laughed again at the craziness of that experience, when one of the guests said, “Hold up! Did you say that your dog, Howard, is a Border Collie?”
And we all replied, “Yes.”
“Well, Border Collies are the smartest dogs, you know? I bet that it wasn’t the rescue that made all that mess in your house. Knowing how smart your Border is, Howard probably destroyed the house himself and sat back on the couch after the fact, satisfied with his scheme and figuratively, smoked a cigarette, knowing rest-assured that you would blame the mess on the rescue and he would get the house back to himself!”
And that moment, all of us dropped our jaws in wonder, gasping, “Oh no, Howard is that smart!!”
So the verdict is still out as to who the real perpetrator of the crime is…….
It certainly makes me wonder. And if it was Howard, then maybe I am at the top of his list.
1. No sharing Mommy with other dogs!
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