I miss my dog the most when I am away. Don't get me wrong--I also miss and love my family and friends. I just can't pick up the phone and call or boot up the computer and video chat with my dog. (Trust me, I've tried. He doesn't get it!) So when I say goodbye to Rascal, it's like saying goodbye forever, and when I say hello, it's like he's waited his entire life for that moment.
When I arrived for our Christmas visit, Rascal barked at first (he's definitely not a sight hound). But once he caught my smell, he sprinted across the house, tail wagging and tongue lapping. When he gets really excited, his whole rear end wags, practically lifting his back paws from the momentum. He just couldn't believe I was back! Rascal also smiles, which looks a bit awkward on a dog with his shape of muzzle. And then when we put him in the family room for the night, he immediately started crying, a high pitch whimper; he wanted to sleep with his sister! So, of course, he got his way.
Rascal came into our lives about six years ago, as an adoption. My sister and I got the brilliant idea to buy our mother a dog for Mother's Day, since we were both out of the house, going to school. Our mom is the type of mother that needs something to care for, a companion for when my dad is working, and a reason to go out and exercise every day. A dog would fulfill these needs, for only about $150 from each of us.
My mom had resisted the idea of a dog over the years, claiming they have terrible fleas and shed everywhere. We insisted that veterinary science had advanced since she had a puppy in her youth and flea control is much better. But Rachel and I both knew our mother would fall in love and ignore the few drawbacks if we could find just the right puppy.
Most dogs in the shelters were rottweilers or chihuahuas, either too aggressive and ugly or too yippy and ugly, except for one dog. Rachel was checking the last shelter near our hometown, walking past rows of cringing, shivering chihuahuas and snarling, foaming rottweilers when she heard one tiny whimper. She turned around, locked eyes with Rascal, and knew he was the one. (Kind of sounds like a love story, doesn't it? :) She saved his life!
After that it was just a matter of convincing our mother to get in the car and drive to an unknown destination--we had to let her meet Rascal before we finalized the adoption. My mom loved how affectionate this little black and tan dog seemed, and wanted to name him "Kisses." Fortunately we were able to convince her otherwise, or rather Rascal did. All dogs adopted out from the city shelter must be fixed and he was pretty weak and inactive for the first couple of days. My mom thought we adopted a dud! But during his first week home, Rascal climbed up onto the dining room table, to which we said, "Oh, what a little rascal!"
Since his adoption, Rascal has caught and eaten lizards, small birds, spiders, flies and other insects; he has dug underneath fences and taken himself for "walks;" he has licked faces and nipped very few fingers; he has hidden from vacuums and blenders; he has attacked mailmen and barked madly at teasing squirrels; and he has comforted us when sad. I have always wanted a dog of my own, and since having Rascal in the family, I want a dog of my own even more. He has wagged his way into our hearts, and while not all dogs have the same personalities, most have good temperaments, and I will now always prefer dogs over cats. Sorry, cat lovers, but a dog has captured my heart between his furry little paws! Rachel always was a good judge of character.
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