Winning Love

The day my best friend joined our family...please feel free to critique.


I was adamant there would be no more dogs in the house. I had already lost two: one was poisoned and the other stolen. Then there's the hard work that’s involved, despite good intentions and sincere promises from everyone else in the household, that had always been left to me. I reminded my husband that when our 2 year old German Shepherd had been poisoned I had literally carried him to the vets because he was too busy.  It was me who posted the ads and scoured the neighbourhood when our 1yr old pup, Gypsy disappeared. It was me who trained, fed, watered, groomed every dog we ever had. Me who sat up in the night nursing them when they were ill. Me who had the broken heart when the end came. Thus I was determined this house would never be home to another dog and for eight years I fought persistent petitions, cajoling, even bullying but I steadfastly refused.

One fine Saturday afternoon, my husband and I set off for a leisurely drive into the country. I thought I was being treated to tea at a country house when we headed off in a direction we had never been before and stopped at a garage to ask for directions.  So imagine my shock, horror that turned to anger as we rolled into what I, at first, thought was a farmyard but was actually Kennels. Two large, fierce looking German shepherds came tearing towards us as we parked.

With a pathetic grin Trevor whimpered:
 

 “It won’t hurt to look will it? We don’t have to buy

I just want to look that’s all, I promise”

 

“Promise indeed well go look for yourself mate I’m not getting eaten alive“. I muttered sitting in the car with a face like a Lurgan spade for a few minutes until curiosity got the better of me. A pup bounced towards us and I shook my head, “I don’t like it” and I meant it. There was nothing not even a flicker. My resolve strengthened. I sensed Trevor’s disappointment as I knew he needed me to sign the cheque. Turning back to the car I was met by another pup who sauntered playfully towards me with his huge paws and knuckled forelegs looking disproportionate to the rest of his body. His thick black and rusty tan coat shone and his eyes met mine and peered in to the very depths of my soul. Instantaneously my firmness melted.

 

I determined not to let Trevor see my weakness as I barked out my demands:

It would not be my dog, he would be totally responsible. 

 I would not have anything to do with it,

no training, cleaning, feeding… and so on I went.

Finally the cheque was signed the pup was mine, no, the pup was Trevor’s.

 

We left the kennels Trevor driving while I sat nursing a scared and nervous but adorable pup. On that journey the bond was made, Ricky (the 2nd), as my husband named him and in fact the only thing he ever did for him, became my pup, my friend for he had won my heart, he had won my love.