When I saw this past week that The Baytown Sun was teaming up with Baytown Animal Services for a new “Pets of the Week” feature aiming to showcase adoptable pets, I knew I needed to share how good fortune and maybe fate had a hand (or maybe a paw) in an unlikely pairing of souls. Yes, it was that dramatic and then some.
In the fall of 2001 I was a young(er) mom with three children aged 2, 4, and 8 a shift-working husband who was also attending college classes. To say my plate was full and that I did not need anything else to take care of would be an understatement.
And yet, my then 4-year-old Jeremy wanted a pet. He had discussed it with me many times and I was getting nowhere with my explanations about why pet ownership just wasn’t in the cards. He had no frame of reference for time, energy or monetary constraints. I didn’t stop taking care of him when baby sister came along, so what was one more?
Smart little devil that he was, he “adopted” a plastic fishing worm from his dad’s tackle box. It wasn’t even a complete specimen – had somehow lost a third of its body. No matter, Jeremy loved it, carried it around and told anybody who would listen all about his “pet”.
At first, I was elated. He had a “pet” he could take care of and he was thrilled. That was the best cared-for plastic worm in the history of mankind. For weeks Jeremy “fed” it and made sure it had a comfortable place to sleep. Thorny parenting issue averted and potentially forever bypassed . . . until the guilt set in.
Owning a real, live, breathing animal is a rite of childhood passage right? So, in November 2001 Jeff and I decided a dog would be great for the kids. Nothing fancy and cheap would be good, too.
We made our way over to “the pound”, which I know is probably no longer the politically correct term to use for what’s now Baytown Animal Services located at 705 Robert Lanier. If you’d like to visit they are open from noon to 6 p.m. Monday through Saturday and can be reached at 281-422-7600.
Anyway, out of I can’t remember how many pooches, one immediately garnered our attention. He was on Doggie Death Row and while looking sweet as all get out had been dubbed an “escape artist”.
According to workers he had been bailed out a couple of times before and the courts finally ordered he go live somewhere else or . . .
He looked smallish – I have described him here before as being about the size of a Bassett Hound but spitting image of a long-haired Dachshund – standing in his prison cell, but as we loaded him in my lap for home transport we realized he was biggish. And that was right before he barfed in my lap.
In the days following I became even more ambivalent about my new charge as we went through the pains of acclimating him to our home. At that time there was a “return policy” and I secretly suspected I might utilize it.
But something strange happened and that doggie, Scooter, figured out just who he needed to win over.
While I admit to being a tough nut to crack sometimes, that mutt dug his way into my heart and has not ever in over ten years tried to escape. He’s “my” dog and everyone knows he’s “Momma’s boy”. He has been a great friend and companion.
At all times I positively know there is soul out there who would follow me to the ends of the Earth and off a cliff. We should all be so fortunate.
Check out the “Pets of the Week” on Tuesdays. Maybe you’ll find a love that will never escape, too.
© 2012 Natalie Whatley
January 20th, 2012 at 6:45 pm
God bless dogs and people who love them.