The other night, at about 2 am, to be exact, our dog, Bear began barking his head off. Now, any other time that would not be anything unusual. He barks his head off at air. (He’s not all eat up with smarts sometimes.)
But, this was different. Probably because it was 2 am.
While my husband slept peacefully, completely unaware, I got up to see what was causing the commotion. Standing there on our front porch was this behemoth of a dog.
I immediately kenneled Bear. He would have continued to madly bark at the other dog, then the whole household would be awake, and then it wouldn’t have been pretty; sleepy, grumpy males are not to be trifled with at 2 am on a school night. After making sure Bear was calm, I went back to bed. I reasoned that the dog would go home, surely. I reasoned that it was too late, or early, to be messing with a stray dog. I reasoned that if I didn’t take him in, then I wouldn’t have to explain to my family that I’d taken in, yet another, stray.
I closed my eyes and waited for Mr. Sandman to visit.
Of course, I couldn’t sleep.
Not because ThrillCam was snoring, although, that does tend to make sleeping tough.
THIS is why I couldn’t sleep:
When I got back out of bed, I looked out on our front porch and he was lying there, looking at me with those great big eyes. He hadn’t left our porch. He stayed, like he knew I was a sucker for a stray I’d take him in.
Then got up and wagged that great big curly tail at me.
I couldn’t stand it. My heart melted right then and there. I was hooked. He had me at hello.
Of course his name was Sam. He was a big ol’ Sam. It fit.
I wanted to call him George. I kept running the script from Bugs Bunny through my head, even at 2 am… “I will hug him, and stroke him, and cuddle him, and sing to him, and call him George…”
He might as well have been the Abominable Snowman. He was that big! He was a Great Pyrenees mix.
I’ve loved that type of dog since a family in one of our churches, way back when, had some on their ranch. They’re great dogs for folks who have things to herd and/or protect.
I wanted to keep Sam. And, Sam wanted to stay with me. I could tell. He loved me as much as I loved him.
It was instant and lasting love.
…until he lifted his leg and peed on my couch.
Do I need to tell you how much pee a great big dog’s bladder can hold? Or not hold, as the case may be?
Actually, though, even with him marking my furniture, I still would have incorporated him into our family, even if it meant going into massive debt just to feed him. I figure I already had two teenaged boys, what’s one more bottomless pit of a stomach??
But…sadly, I couldn’t keep him…. Someone else loved him and needed him home, so they could hug and squeeze him and call him George.
Fortunately, Sam’s owner’s name was on his tag. She was in town visiting a friend in our neighborhood. She had been out calling and looking for him until 4:30 that same morning. Understandably, she missed him.
When she came to my house to get him, she gave me the biggest hug. She was so appreciative that I had rescued her baby. (I didn’t tell her I was plotting how I could keep him. Of course, I didn’t tell ThrillCam that, either. Some things are best kept quiet.)
So, sadly, I gave Sam back to his owner.
It was the right thing to do. But, as a dog lover, as a BIG dog lover, I was sad to see him go.
At the same time, I was happy to reunite two old friends. Plus, I console myself with the knowledge that Sam and I will be BFFs for…well, forever.
I want a Great Pyrenees.