Do you ever make a rushed decision because, well, it seems like a good idea at the time and then spend the next couple days freaking out about how much of a good idea it may have really been in the first place and pray to God that you didn’t just make the most horrible decision of your entire life? That’d be my husband and I on Thursday. Why? Because we got a new dog.
So here’s the situation (and please don’t tell our Great Dane, Lucy this because, well she’s quite the jealous bitch), I have another canine child. Well, stepchild, more like. Or work child, I guess would be more appropriate. Back in March, a cute dog of random mixed breeding was brought into the veterinary clinic I work at after being hit by a car. It was exactly what the person chasing him down the highway was trying to prevent, but alas, cars happen on highways, and this is a busy highway too. Anyway, after posting his picture on Craigslist in the Lost and Found section, contacting the local Humane Societies, and waiting for someone to claim him (which never happened), both my coworker and I fell in love with him, broken leg in a cast and all. I tried to convince my husband that we needed to take him home, but it was at a very unstable time where we didn’t know about job prospects for him and could end up moving any day should something become available. Scary shit. Alas, it was not meant to be. However, my coworker decided she’d have to keep him since I wasn’t going to. His name is Goose. He’s my Work Dog and Lucy is my Home Dog. He likes me to hold him like a baby. Then recently another dog ended up at the clinic roaming around a local lake who, I kid you not, looks almost identical to the random mixed breed Goose. They also act alike, appear to be the same age, have the same temperament, make the same snorting sounds, and are both petrified of stairs. Coincidence? I think not. Their similarities are far too obvious for them to not be littermates.
And so after I get to work on Thursday, unbeknownst to me, my coworker was texting my husband apparently pestering him to come in and meet the dog they decided to name Duck. Yes, they have a sick sense of humor, my coworkers. Sick. Anyway, my coworker looked at me and said, “Uh oh.” I asked what the problem was and she said that she’d been texting my husband and he stopped texting back. I checked my phone. Nothing. I thought nothing of it, figuring he was just getting ready for work and went about my business. Then he showed up, and before I could even say hi to him, one of my other coworkers had brought out Duck to meet him and that was it. He said we had to bring him home, but the name would have to be changed. Within an hour I walked in on him getting his balls chopped off and asked if I want him micro-chipped. This was all a bit too much to take in. Freak out mode begins now.
What if Lucy hates him? What if he doesn’t get along with the cats? What if the chickens and ducks are dinner and not friends when he finally meets them? What if he just doesn’t work out? So many questions went through my mind, and I almost recanted our decision to take him home. But then this morning when I looked in on him after getting to work, I realized this is all new to him too. He’s going to be scared and not understand all that is happening. And he’s going to need training. Lots and lots of training. And a new name. Chuck.
So I bring him home, and Lucy freaks out… for a few seconds until after she put him in his place. Our cat, Dexter, also put him in his place, however, Chuck didn’t seem to know when to back down, so the cats are going to take a little more work with him. Alas, as he lies down next to me, snoring, I can’t help but hope that he is able to fully integrate himself into our somewhat chaotic household.