For some, the answer is an enticing secret, a scandal, a pivotal event worthy of embellishment in a major motion picture or bestselling novel.
For me, it's something far more ordinary -- boring, really. But the shock still comes, even from those who believe they know me well.
I, the person who lingers for two hours in Best Buy because "Eight Below" is playing in the home theater department, who loses all sense of propriety the second a "Doggie!" frolics into her line of sight on the sidewalk, and who can be convinced to do almost anything (from camping sans cabins to driving cross country) if it includes a furry face and a friendly bark... have never owned a dog."No way," my colleagues reply, flashing through the bazillion times I stopped short on a busy Manhattan street to point out to the world that yes, there is a dog over there, yes, he's pretty darn cute, and oh yeah, I am 27 -- not 7 -- years old. "You live for dogs. You talk about them every day. You must have had one."
"Nope," I assure them, half boastful for getting something by a friend, half somber over its truth. "Closest we got was a rabbit. And my brother's guinea pig. But the second I have my own place and a job to pay for it, I'm getting a dog. That's a promise."
I couldn't envision his face at the time, being unfamiliar with breeds outside of the golden retriever, Labrador, and that smush-nosed little guy from "Milo and Otis" (a pug, I later learned). But I could already feel the joy, the companionship, the fleeting bouts of frustration, and the love that my puppy-to-be would tug into my life.
Perhaps it was coincidence that my college sweetheart had a Labrador retriever who honed in on my doggie envy from day one, who rested his big yellow head on me when I was feeling alone amidst a then-unfamiliar family, and who let me see exactly what my now-husband was like as a little boy. It was clear from the start that Bumps helped raise his human brothers well. Perhaps it was more than coincidence that I eventually married one.
Over those five years, before leaving us in 2008, Bumps earned the honorary title of My First Dog. I wasn't around for his first bark, the time he infamously ingested my in-laws' couch, or the mischievous adventures he launched as a teenager in the untamed mountains of Maine. But I did once get to take him jogging around the neighborhood. Okay, we made it 50 feet down the road before he became an unmovable boulder and decided he'd gone far enough... but it's a memory I'll cherish forever with "my" goofy, stubborn, lovable Bumps.
Only one other dog scuttled in and out of my life long enough to stand out in a sea of wagging tails, all of which make me smile.When I was a child, visiting my grandmother in Cape Cod meant beach ball, bike paths, DQ Dilly Bars, and strolls around streets like "Rest-A-Bit Road" and "Carefree Way" that brought me to a friendly Scottish Terrier named Pepper. For years, the shuffling heap of wiry black fur summoned me to pound the pavement around his neighborhood and do a half-mile sprint to his house just before the mini-van revved up for home at the end of August.
For some time, Pepper was Cape Cod to me, and he made it impossible to envision any future that didn't contain a four-legged "best friend."
Now, nearly five years after tossing my graduation cap and taking a job as a newspaper reporter in Connecticut, two years after becoming editor of said newspaper, one year after walking down the aisle with my the best part of my college career, six months after waving good-bye to the stressful world of community news, and about 60 days after deciding that pestering give-me-something-to-nurture feeling didn't automatically mean I was ready for a human child... I'm finally making good on my promise.
Better late than never, right?
In one week, Shadow, our "silver" Labrador retriever, will come into our home. My husband and I have been watching him and his brothers grow, obsessively checking the breeder's website and Twitter page for photos (I'm down to about 30 clicks a day) since February 2.
We cleared his spot in the living room before he even set paw in the world, and I've spent many hours training myself not to let 27 years of pent-up yearning explode on the little guy. I WILL be more Victoria Stilwell than Elmyra Duff. (For those of you outside of the "Tiny Toons" generation, think of John Steinbeck's Lennie, only far less humble, more intense, younger, female, and obsessed not just with petting, but with keeping all the cuddly things in cages or jars.)
Named both for his color (technically chocolate but with a rare gene that makes his coat grey) and his date of birth (Groundhog Day), Shadow will be the star of this blog.
It is my hope that my first-time experiences raising a dog (aided, of course, by my husbands' many years as Bumps' companion) will be entertaining, educational, and reassuring to those who've already brought their best friend home, as well as those who've been pining for "someday."
Bumps and Pepper, this is for you.
