It was my husband’s birthday. Rascal, our beloved pet, died a few weeks before, and hubby was having a hard time getting over the loss. I didn’t want another dog to fall in love with; saying goodbye is just too hard. But seeing my husband moping around the house was even worse.
The dog pound is depressing, but here we are, eyes wet with tears, looking for the right dog to take home.
Rascal was special. We didn’t choose him, he chose us. He was the puppy next door; a beautiful Australian Shepherd mix, with tiger stripes and a silky white chest. Before we knew it, he was sleeping on our front porch, and then, living in our house. The grandkids loved him and he loved them. The kids at Pet Smart loved wrapping their arms around his furry neck. He even allowed grownups to pet him. But, on his own turf? Not a chance. He wouldn’t even let them in the house. PERIOD! But children were always safe. He was their dad, their best friend, their best-ever playmate. Always. Any time, any day or night.
After three times around the kennel, we were feeling hopeless about finding the perfect dog. There was one, though; a hound mix. That skinny, brown, short-haired dog with long legs and floppy ears. I didn’t want a hound. Buck didn’t care what kind of dog it was, he just wanted a dog. So, a hound dog is what we got.
She is the strangest dog we’ve ever had. After eight years, she’s still jumpy, as hardheaded as a bull, and as stubborn as a mule. She licks everything, barks at everything, and thinks all babies are hers by pushing their moms away.
She is definitely my husband’s dog. She sleeps with him and wakes him up whenever he stops breathing or has one of his recurring nightmares. She’s never been trained to do that, she just does it. She is an amazing dog. We fell in love with her and her quirky personality. That’s what makes her Bella!
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Straight From the Heart 