One year ago today, our sweet Scouty was born into rescue. His mother, a 10 month old black lab, had been dumped, pregnant, at the rescue by her owner. He told Jennifer (the lady who runs the rescue) that the father was a neighborhood golden retriever, though she told me later that she doesn't really believe much of what she hears, particularly from someone willing to dump their very young, pregnant dog when they should have had her fixed in the first place. True that!
Anyway, Barry and the kids had been pestering me for the ok to get a puppy for months at that point. It's not that I'm not a dog lover...its just that I know what a big responsibility a dog is, and I wanted to make sure we were ready. I knew we wanted a rescue dog...it was just a matter of finding the right one. Many times I thought I might have found the one, but by the time I called, they were gone. Then one night I was sitting here perusing Petfinder for the, well...1,000th time and came across a litter of 11(!) puppies...newborn black lab/golden retriever mixes. We talked a bit that night about the pros and cons of getting a newborn puppy versus an older rescue dog...and then decided to send in an application. The next day, Jennifer emailed me to tell me that she had seen the link to my blog on my email signature and after reading my blog and seeing pics of us and our property, we were approved as far as she was concerned. I was elated...AND apprehensive. What was I getting myself into? I knew that although the kids were promising to help, the majority of the work was going to fall on my shoulders. Not that Barry wouldn't be helping, of course...but let's be real...I'm the one who's here all day. And sometimes I don't feel like I'm doing a very good job handling just the house and the kids! Would I be able to cope with a new puppy too?
We went to meet the puppies ...my goodness , were they cute! It was so hard to choose, but one was so laid back that he just laid down among all the playing puppies and took a nap. He was so roly-poly, with his milk-filled belly...we were hooked. And he was gentle...never nipped at the kids at all...unlike a few of the others. We didn't get to take him home that day...he wasn't quite ready. He still needed shots, and the rescue would neuter him before we took him home. We had two weeks to get ready...so much to do! We picked him up the first week of June, and he weighed in at a hefty 11 lbs...at 8 weeks old. We asked Jennifer how big she thought he would get. She estimated about 65-75 lbs based on the size of his mother, and that was cool with us! We loaded him up into our little cat carrier and took him home. Look at the feet on that little cutie... He adjusted just fine. Hardly had any accidents in the house, and really just wanted to sleep all the time! No wonder...he was growing so fast...about 10 lbs per month! The vet laughed when I told him he was a lab/golden mix. He actually said, "Who told you THAT? That dog has Newfoundland in him!" Boy, he wasn't kidding! By December, he was 94 lbs...and still just a laid-back pup. We have been spoiled...he has been a dream of a dog, and really, with as freaked out as I was, we couldn't have asked for a better dog to break us in. In fact, Barry said early on that we should get another so he could have a playmate. Ummmm, no. I know when I've been lucky, and lighting doesn't strike in the same place twice...or so they say!
We love our Scouty-Outy, as Noah calls him, and can't imagine not having him. He is Kendall's adventure buddy, Noah's best friend, our faithful companion, and the baby of the house. We sometimes have to remind ourselves of that. He's still a baby...a GIANT baby, but a baby nonetheless.
Happy Birthday, sweet puppy!
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