How Buddy Came to Be

I have written the birth stories of each of my children, and since Buddy is now an adopted member of our family, it's appropriate that I write the story of how he came to be one of us.

The bright idea of a pet was planted years ago in the tender heart of our then, four-year old Brita, who became quite fond of her pre-school class pet--a hamster. By the time she was five, a pet dog became her number one desire. I found myself completely worn down after hundreds (maybe even bijillions) of requests, and foolishly gave her hope by finally conceding that maybe, just maybe, we would have a family pet of some sort some day. That was all the ammunition she needed to keep up the badgering for another three and a half years. My mother heart was softened each time she exited the public library carrying stacks of books to aid her in her research to find a suitable pet for our family. This went on for years.

Jared started doing research of his own, giving us a good idea of what we'd look for in a dog on some future day. In one particular conversation when we had been weakened beyond explanation, Jared and I sealed our fate by promising her that we could get a dog when we moved to Utah. Why we made such a promise before even buying a house escapes my intelligence. We started back peddling when we bought a house that doesn't really have much of a yard. Testing the waters to see if we could back out of the deal, one day we told Brita that we were "re-thinking" a dog and maybe we would just get some kind of starter pet instead. The news didn't go over so well.

For weeks, everytime Brita and I had an argument over anything, this was the baggage she threw at me...

• "Why do you always make me do the hard jobs? And why won't you let me have a dog after you promised?"
• "I am too tired to wake up this morning! And you lied to me about a dog!"
• "Why can't I ever do anything I want? And why did you tell me we could get a dog and now we can't?"

The killer for me...
"You told me we could get a dog, and now you're telling me we can't. It makes me feel like I can't trust anything you say."

The killer for Jared...
Last week's stack of library books about pets and the subsequent incessant sharing of information regarding the benefits of rats and hamsters as family pets.

On Wednesday, Jared and I re-opened the pet discussion and we both agreed that at some point we needed to get a dog. So we pulled up our new favorite classifieds, KSL.com, and there it was. A two-year old, already trained and housebroken Labradoodle. A labrador/poodle mix. Easy temperament, great with kids, doesn't shed much. A dream.

So on the spur of the moment, we made an appointment to see the dog shortly after the girls got home from school. Giddiness permeated the walls of our happy home when our plans were unveiled. Homework has never been so eagerly completed. Rooms have never been so quickly picked up. For the first time, ever, in the whole existence of our family, nothing was too much to ask. The girls even went so far as to move their backpacks from the center of the floor to the outer edges of the room. Whoa Nelly!

When we arrived to meet this wonder dog, he was already in the backyard playing ball with the owner and what looked like a neighbor friend with her two little boys. It didn't take me long to recognize we were in competition for a dog. I attempted to talk under my breath while subtly trying to clue in my oblivious husband. He looked outwardly confused as he not so subtly replied, "Huh???" At that point the cat was out of the bag, and the competition knew I knew that they knew we were both there for the same thing. And I knew that the competition knew we both knew that Jared was still in the dark.

So I took matters into my own hands. The game was on. It was time to bare those fierce competitor colors and show some people that even with an animal-fearing mother, we wouldn't be the family driving home without a dog shedding all over our clothes and smelling our private parts. With minimal encouragement, our family intercepted the ball-in-play from the opposing team (a rugged-looking little boy of about six or seven years old) and we began to show Buddy what it was really like to play ball. The girls were already acting as if Buddy were ours, loving on him, giving him encouragement and praise like the true champions they are.

When the owner went in the house to get some water for Buddy, the competitor lady and her two sons followed her (I'm pretty bright...I knew why), but guess who Buddy chose to stay with? Ooooh, yeah...with the family of champs. He's pretty bright.

The owner lady came back out. Alone this time. I asked her if competitor lady wanted him. Affirmative. The checkered flag was raised and it was the final lap, so we went in for the kill. Not hard to do once those competitor instincts took over. Family S victorious! And we didn't even have to sweeten the deal.

Owner lady took us in the house with her while she broke the news to competitor lady. Awkward. I pretended to not even notice that we were all in the same room together. Probably not the most graceful way to handle the victory, but should the truth be known, I was in a bit of shock knowing I was just a check away from being a pet owner.

About ten minutes later, a dog that appeared to be more of a "lab" than a "doodle" (due to the shedding all over our van), had positioned himself between the two front seats of our family vehicle. Tongue hanging out, panting and dripping...thus placing his seal of approval on the whole adoption thing.

It's been two days, and I'm actually attaching myself to this dog. How can I not when I wake up in the morning to see him patiently positioned on the floor, graciously accepting loves from my 20-month old little girl? How can I not when my older girls can't bear the thought of walking to school without Buddy's company? How can I not when I see him follow along at Jared's heels like he is king of the forest or something?

I like having Buddy around. Hearing myself think that is all the evidence I need to prove that competition or no competition, it was simply meant to be. It's official. I've got myself a Buddy pal.