The Choice

The Choice

By Sandra Williams

            I have had dogs for nearly all of my life.  For the last twenty years, I have always had a pug dog.  I don’t have any children of my own, so my dogs have been my babies.  There is something about a pug.  Their personalities and facial expressions make you think you are talking to a person when you talk to them.  (Pug dog owners know exactly what I am talking about.) My first pug was Pudge, a fat little guy, who just lived to be loved on.  When he was about three years old, my ex-husband and I decided he needed a friend.  He was lethargic and bored and he lay around all day long waiting for one of us to give him some attention.  That was when Puddin’ came into the picture.  When I got her, she sat in my cupped hands.  She was no bigger than a gerbil, but was just as spunky as could be and she loved Pudge.  I think he just tolerated her.  She had this attitude that said, “I am bad to the bone-don’t mess with me.”   Every morning she would lick Pudge’s ears and drag him around by the wrinkles on his neck.  It had to hurt, but he let her do it.  They were great company and followed me around the house like shadows. 

Pudge died at the age of thirteen of congestive heart failure.  Puddin’ lived to be sixteen years old and died of old age. I was devastated when I lost them.  It was like losing family members.   I mourned for them just as much as I would a family member.  The house felt so empty without them.

I never really got over pain caused by the loss of a dogs I loved so much. Because of this I had no intention of getting another dog for a while.  I eventually wanted to get a puppy, preferably in the summer time because as a teacher I’d have the summers off would have plenty of time to train it. 

About four months after Puddin’ died, I started looking for a breeder.  I came across an establishment named Mountainside Pugs.  As I looked over the website, I found a link to retired pugs.  I clicked on it and saw two females they would no longer use for breeding.  Both dogs were available for adoption.  I started thinking about it and I thought if I were to get an adult dog, I wouldn’t have to worry about housebreaking it.  The seed had been planted and as the week went by, I kept thinking about these two pugs.  I contemplated it long and hard before approaching my husband to see if he was up to having another dog.  His initial response was “no”, so I let it sit for a couple of days and I approached him again.  I explained adult dogs usually don’t find a home because everybody always wants a puppy.  I also let some tears fall as I told him I really wanted one of these dogs.  He caved in and said I could get one, but only one and I had better not come home with both of them.

We had lots of snow during the winter of 2009.  It was December and we had about eight inches of snow on the ground.  The main roads were clear, but in most areas the side roads needed treated.  I had made my plans to drive to Gore, VA where Mountainside Pugs is located.  I’m very stubborn and come hell or high water, I was going to go and get my dog on the day I planned whether there was snow or not – probably not the smartest idea.  My stepdaughter, Bethany, and I left early on a Monday morning.   We were looking at a drive that would take about three hours to complete.  We drove for what seemed like an eternity until we finally made it to our destination.  The breeder was located far off the beaten path and we had specific directions not to drive back to her house she didn’t want us to get stuck in the snow.  We were told to call her and she would come get us in her four-wheel drive.  We made our call and waited.  After about ten minutes we were picked up.  My heart was racing with the anticipation I was feeling.  After talking with her back and forth for about a month, we were finally here and were going to get to meet the pugs.             

We walked into the breeder’s house and there she was.  She was sitting on the floor in the kitchen hiding behind a chair and looking very hesitantly at Bethany and me.  Her name was Ellie and she was just a tiny little thing.  The breeder, Mary, told us about the history of both dogs.  Ellie was the runt of her litter and had been attacked twice by a pack of pug dogs. That is why she alone in the kitchen.  She was very timid and shy, so Bethany and I sat on the floor trying to coax her into coming over to see us.  We sat there for at least an hour and she did finally approach us a couple of times.  When we went into the next room to meet Madison, the other pug I’d read about on their website, she just about knocked us over.  She was very excited and had no inhibitions.  As we played with her, the breeder told us that there was a family with kids who were wanted to take Madison home with them, but since I had already put down a deposit, she was going to let me choose between Madison and Ellie.  Subconsciously, the choice had been made the minute I saw Ellie.  As we played with this crazy dog, I kept sneaking glances over at Ellie.  She was already three years old and nobody had wanted her.  In my heart, I knew she had to come home with us.  My logic said, “Sandy, you drove four hours on snow-covered roads to get a dog and you should get the one without issues.”  I loved the playfulness of Madison but it was also easier to make a decision knowing that a family with kids wanted her.   I talked it over with Bethany because I wanted her to feel as if she was involved in the decision- making.  She confirmed what I already knew-Ellie was coming home with us.

 After we got the paperwork and payment taken care of, we were on our way.  Mary drove us to our car.  I got Bethany and Ellie situated in the back seat so we could head home.  It was a long drive, but more relaxing than our trip up there.  As it was getting late in the day, both of them fell asleep in the backseat.  When we got home, we set up camp in the living room with Ellie’s dog bed and toys.  Ellie took her time and explored her new home before settling in for the first night. 

It has now been a little over a year and Ellie is the queen of her castle.  She is no longer the shy and timid little dog around my family.  She gets nervous when someone comes over to visit, but warms up to them before they leave.  Every morning before she goes out, my husband scatters a handful of Cheerios on the kitchen floor for her.  If he isn’t already up and the bedroom door is open, she will go and wake him up because she expects her Cheerios first thing.  Every night when I go upstairs to watch TV with my husband, she gets a Denta-bone to eat.  I do this out of guilt for leaving her by herself, but my husband insists we keep one part of the house that is hair free and that Ellie will be okay for an hour or two.  She is rewarded with treats for doing her business outside and for going in her crate when it is time for us to leave.  When I make pancakes, she gets a tiny one with a dab of butter and some syrup.  Some people would say she is spoiled rotten, but as my dad says, “Isn’t that what dogs are for?” While I’m am not working full time, I spend most days at home and Ellie is always by my side.  She is great company and I love her very much.