HARRY

Love The Second Time Around

I was in my late 50s when I decided I needed a dog. It almost felt like my late twenties when I decided I needed a baby. Note: I found the baby much easier to train.

Mind you, I had never owned a dog. Growing up, my mom had a Shih Tzu named Tansey, but I pretty much ignored her. Tansey licked and drooled, two behaviors I don’t tolerate in humans, so why would I tolerate them from a dog? Note: I did tolerate licking and drooling from my human baby.

When Steven and I first married, we became cat people. We started with one, an opinionated, cross-eyed, kink-in-her-tail Siamese. I named her Sammy.

Fun fact: I wrote a bad check for Sammy on a Saturday and had to explain myself to my boss, the bank manager, on Monday. I leaned into the adage, “Do it, then ask forgiveness.” BTW, still do.

Over the years, we’ve had as many as five cats at once, and never fewer than two. They fit our lifestyle perfectly. We traveled often, and cats are the original low-maintenance roommates. Leave out enough food and water, and they’re good for a week. No guilt. No judgment. Well, almost no judgment. Once, a sweet, precious, furry ball of goodness did pee in our open suitcase upon our arrival home.

Then came Diesel.

My first dog was a chihuahua, and I named him Diesel. He was my best friend, and I was his. I was fortunate to have Diesel’s love for almost 14 years before he passed over the rainbow bridge.

I was heartbroken and adamant I’d never have another dog.

It only took a couple of months, and Mother Nature, or mother nurture, came knocking on my heart once again. Turns out I missed having a canine best friend at home. I wanted another dog, and I wanted it N O W.

I searched the local shelter’s website and found a description of a male chihuahua, about a year old, with a black-and-white coat. No photo. I called to confirm he was still available. He was. We scurried to the shelter.

When we arrived, I told the receptionist who we were there to see, and we were led to a “receiving pen.” That’s when I first noticed something... odd. This “chihuahua” looked a little funny. I figured he must be a mix.

We played with him. We held him. (Warning: once you hold them, you’re a goner.) I had a nagging feeling, but for reasons I’ll never understand, I didn’t ask a single question about his background.

On the drive home, we debated names. He’s white with black spots, angel-wing-shaped spots on his back. I thought “Spot” was cute. Steven was a firm “No.” So I pulled out the big guns: “Harry!” It’s sweet, it’s simple, and it’s Steven’s grandfather’s name (may he rest in peace). I got the side-eye, but Harry it was.

It took no time for Harry to own the house, and me. He has been my constant companion from day one. He drives the cats nuts. He’s extremely nosy (pun intended). He insists on inspecting every bag that enters the house. And when he sits with me, he sits on me. We are one.

Harry gets the zoomies daily and is quite the talker. If he doesn’t like his marching orders, he talks back. He’s a licker. He loves to be held. I have unconditional belly-rubbing privileges. He’s a hunter, always lying in wait for lizards and birds.

When he misbehaves, he gets a bop on his nose. He gets bopped quite a bit around the cats. Sometimes he’ll lick one of the cats. I don’t know what that’s all about.

A month after bringing Harry home, I met my friends for a walk at the park. Naturally, I brought Harry with me. They took one look and burst out laughing. At me!

Sharon said, “I thought you said he was a chihuahua.” Julie chimed in, “He’s not a chihuahua. He’s a Jack Russell Terrier.” I got defensive. “It says chihuahua on his adoption papers!” Sharon raised an eyebrow. “You can believe whatever you want, but that’s a Jack Russell.”

I had Harry’s DNA tested.

Harry is a Terrier mix, mostly Jack Russell. Not even a smidge of chihuahua. I had been blinded by love.

See? I knew he looked funny. My Harry berry, puncie, boy puppy. Doesn’t everybody have at least three names for their dog baby?

I’m proof that you can love the second time around.