fbook icon 60Puppy Love

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It’s been eighteen months since my collie dog, Bindi, died of cancer. For a long time we couldn’t even think about getting another dog, not while we were grieving for our beautiful girl. Recently, however, we decided it was time to bring a new dog into our lives.

     So we began visiting local pounds and shelters, both in person and online, looking for a rescue dog. Although we love collies, we didn’t want another one. There would always be the temptation to compare the newcomer to Bindi and find her wanting. Besides, we didn’t come across any collies, not even a border collie. At the RSPCA I fell in love with an Alaskan Malamute. My husband (WGH*) wisely reminded me that we didn’t want an active dog, nor one quite so big.

Anyway, about six weeks ago, WGH was having his daily latte at the local café. He likes to sit outside - it’s a ritual he used to share with Bindi, who thought ‘latte’ was synonymous with ‘walk’. Hence, if we said the word, she would spin around in circles, anticipating a jaunt.

On this particular day, as WGH sipped his coffee and chatted with the other regulars, he spotted a Pomeranian running along the footpath in the direction of the café. The dog was about a block away. No owner in sight. When the Pom was almost level with the café, it jumped off the kerb and started to dash across the road. At the same time, an upmarket black SUV was approaching at rapid speed. To make things worse, the driver was chatting on her mobile phone. WGH rushed onto the road and raised his hand to stop the vehicle, while one of the café regulars scooped up the dog, only to discover she wasn't wearing a collar.

A visit to the vet revealed she wasn’t microchipped either. The vet, in turn, offered to keep the dog until the owner could be located. In the meantime, WGH came home, bearing pictures of the Pomeranian, taken on his mobile phone. ‘We’ll use them for the posters,’ he said. 

I wish I hadn’t seen those photos because I looked at that cute honey-coloured dog and instantly fell for her.

‘If the owner doesn’t claim her, do you think we could keep her?’ I asked WGH.

He didn’t say no.

Before long, I was busy coming up with a list of names for the Pomeranian (since she didn’t seem to have one of her own). After considerable deliberation I decided on ‘Pixelle’. Like an excited mother-to-be, I was already looking at baby merchandise – pink leads, fluffy blankets, cosy dog beds. By the third day I was sure the owner wasn’t going to turn up. Part of me railed against him for being so careless; another part prayed that he had gone away and would never return. On the fourth day I was emailing my friends, telling them about Pixelle, when WGH arrived home, a sombre expression on his face.

‘The owner turned up,’ he said.

My heart sank. I won’t repeat the swear word I used.

And so it was that Pixelle went back to her owner and we were still without a dog.

Then a very dear friend emailed me with the following words:

You know what will happen? Some odd circumstance will probably deliver the right dog to you.

It’ll be fate.

And that’s what happened. More next time.


*WGH – World’s Greatest Husband (it says so on his coffee mug)