Happy Stops By

Happy Stops By

When Danny, our Border Collie died, it happened so suddenly we didn't have tiome to contemplate life without him.  One day he played catch with me as usual, and the next morning on awakening he closed his eyes and left us with barely a whimper.  That sudden loss left a hole in my heart that even Peachy and Princess, our other two dogs, tried, but could not fill.

I knew eventually Charlene would replace Danny by adopting another needy dog, but life with only two dogs was a little simpler, and I wasn't in a rush.  Still, I missed Danny so much I kept telling her that if we ever get another dog, it has to be a Border Collie.  That was just to insure I had a little say so about that "next dog."

Well, through the Internet she eventually learned about a Border Collie who was hanging around a farm in northern Florida.  Nina, who posted the information, and Charlene soon began plotting to make this homeless soul a homed dog—in our home, that is.

The trouble was this dog was shy and no one could really get close enough to put a collar or harness on him.  I knew the problem—my days at our farm had shown me a man can't catch a dog who doesn't want to be caught, and this dog did not want to be caught.  No doubt the reason he kept returning was one of the nearby dogs was a female in heat.  At least nature's drive toward procreation kept him coming back, giving us a chance to bring him under control.

Steve started by tossing his hat toward the dog, who sniffed it inquisitively,.  Nina made the trip to the farm each day hoping he'd soon be captured.  She had her job and a family to worry about, but she kept pursuing Scout (as they came to call him).  Charlene was ready to leave on a four hour drive to Lake City, Florida at a moment's notice as each day came and went.  Finally success.  Steve had Scout penned up in his barn, and early the next morning Charlene was on the road to pick up our new dog.

Steve had escape-proofed his barn, but shortly before she arrived, he couldn't find Scout.  She arrived to hear the bad news.  He went to the barn for one last look and there was Scout, curled up in a corner.  Steve easily picked him up, and soon she he was in Charlene's car on the way to his new home.

First stop would be at our veterinarian's office where he was neutered like all our animals.  Vaccinations, flea treatments, etc, were all on the list, so Scout didn't get to our house until another day passed.

I had been away on a trip, so I was keeping in touch by telephone.  She had told me that naming him would be my job, and she was hoping for a name better than Scout, which she didn't like very well.  I pondered names for hours.  Finally I had it—his name would be Happy.

Now you may question why I call him Happy when you see him.  He's a beautiful example, young, perfect teeth, but he's scared to death of people.  Charlene and I have lots of work in front of us to give him confidence.  Seeing him flinching at any sudden move or loud noise, it would be fair to say he isn't happy yet.  No, the name Happy is my promise to him for the future.  We won't stop trying to make him happy until he is happy.

In a household with two other dogs and six cats and two humans, I'm frank to say we didn't need a third dog.

But he surely needed us.

Les Inglis

PS: We've only just begun with Happy.  He'll be the topic of some future blog postings.