All's Well That Ends Well

We could call him “Miracle” or “Lucky,” and it would be just as fitting. But Saturday, Chris and I found our Shadow – and this time he’s not an illusion.

After reeling from the failure of our agreement with the first breeder, we put feelers out to all silver lab breeders within driving distance (a new “must”) in search of puppies needing a home. While to some extent we had started to psych ourselves out of having a puppy anytime soon (an emotional defense mechanism), deep down the truth was we still wanted him.

For two months we’d carefully picked out toys for him to play with, a crate and playpen to be his “room,” a collar and a little engraved nametag in the shape of a dog bone. We’d finally got around to our yard work – not because we particularly cared about having a leaf-free lawn, but because it would be best for him. We’d cleaned the house with extra precision – not cutting the usual corners – and “puppy-proofed” any room to which he’d have access.

Most of our inquiries came back negative: “I JUST sold my last silver; I’m so sorry!” or “We’re not planning on having another litter until the fall.” I worried that we would yet again have to deal with a long-distance relationship, never meeting the breeder and having to ship our puppy home.

But, like in love, all I needed was one.

The new breeder was within driving distance, had two silver males and several charcoal puppies ready to go home next weekend, and sounded extremely friendly and knowledgeable on the phone. She invited us to visit this weekend, to meet her and her husband, to see where the dogs lived, and to pick out our puppy in person.

Did I just hear angels singing?

We jumped at the chance, showed up first thing Saturday, and were suddenly in puppy heaven.

For an hour, I sat on the carpeted basement with a horde of excited seven-week old silver and charcoal puppies climbing into my lap, licking my face, pawing my shoelaces, wrestling with my pant legs (and each other), and launching adorably curious expeditions under tables and behind storage baskets.

It was extremely hard not to want all of them, but singling one out wasn’t hard at all. In fact, he chose us.

The tolerance for being held ranged from about .02 to three seconds with most of the pups, but the little silver guy wearing the pink and blue yarn necklace just sank right into me, looked up, and licked my face. Bounding away once in a while to launch some chaos with his brothers, he continuously found his way back to my lap, as if I had become his home base.
Chris looked at me, then the puppy, and his expression said it all. “This is the one.” Without a doubt, after all the pain of the last few months, after the emotional roller coaster ride and the doubt and the sleepless nights, finally we had found our puppy.

We said farewell to the little guy and his parents with soaring hearts, confident in knowing where he would be for the next week, and where he would be for years to come thereafter.

Now it’s time to get re-ready for his arrival ☺