Following the death and mourning period of our precious, precocious cat, we began to toss around the idea of a second beagle; a bluetick female. Mr. Puppy was now without a play pal, the house was too empty, to quiet for him. And us. The raucous cat and dog games had transformed our silent world; the joyful laughter to which we had become accustomed was now being replaced with silence.
We began searching for this little girl; daily we checked online, daily we hoped tomorrow we would see more promising results. After months of looking, I began wondering if this was not the right time for a new puppy. Could it be as wrong, now, to adopt her as it was right when we adopted Mr. Puppy? Self-doubt did not keep us from looking, and soon she was there.
“She’s beautiful!” I exclaimed when Lloyd showed me her picture. We contacted the breeder, “Yes! We want her!” The bad news came two days later: he sold her to another buyer. He wasn’t sure that we were serious. He offered to sell the little female he had planned on keeping; the check was written and mailed, immediately. Federal Aviation Administration regulations caused a delay in her delivery. Similar doubt to the adoption decision haunted the wait. Soon, though, temperatures in the Midwest mellowed and the breeder called; the little one would be arriving in Seattle that Saturday.
I cradled her in my arms for the ride home; we wondered how Mr. Puppy would welcome her. For as much as was under our control, we decided it would be slowly – leashed with a gradual introduction, in the yard. Mr. Puppy sniffed at her, barked and then she began wrestling him, aggressively; never mind his greater size. We had purchased a fight dog. Pulling her off him, Puppy looked at us in wonderment; she was not like the cat. He lowered is chest to the ground and thrust his rear in the air. Ready to take her on, we set her in front of him and immediately the wrestling began again. Knowing our first assessment was wrong, they were playing, not fighting, we took them indoors.
A wise person would have taken the clue from this initial introduction. For us, it would take a few more clues. This little Kentuckian, Bluegrass, was afraid of nothing.
