Up early on a Sunday morning for a roadtrip to Denver. For a puppy. A week earlier than we originally thought, but she was ready to come home to us, and we were ready to welcome her.
We talked about getting a dog once we realized that it wouldn't work to bring our little Miniature Long-Haired Dachshund Bauer up from Texas to the wildlife-infested, freezing cold, snowy Rocky Mountains. He would most likely become some hungry animal's meal. We would need a larger breed of dog.
I searched the internet for hypoallergenic dog breeds, seeing as this pup would need to be an indoor pet, and first on the list was the Airedale terrier. I wasn't familiar with Airedales, but John was, and he was enthusiastic about the idea of getting an Airedale puppy. I spent weeks and weeks researching and reading up on their history and personality and health and grooming.
A nice-sized breed (called the King of Terriers). Used as military dogs during WWI to carry messages to soldiers behind enemy lines and transport mail. (If you are a history buff, you can read In Memory of Jack the Airedale, A Hero of The Great War, but you may want to have the Kleenex close at hand.) So very smart. Fun-loving. Great with kids. Great watchdogs. Lots of energy. Love those boxy, rectangular faces and the black saddles on their backs. And the eyebrows! I was pushed over the edge when I found out that the breed originates in England. A British dog?!!! This only served to increase my Anglophilia, of course.
So,...someday an Airedale.
And then some things kind of happened which left me quite sad. Reminders of a past I have tried to put behind me. Life is beautiful. And so full of joy. I want to live those truths, but sometimes memories rear their ugly heads. I choose to forgive. I choose to move on. I choose grace! But in a moment of sadness and tears, John hugged me and said, "You need a puppy."
So,...today an Airedale!
We found her in Denver over a month ago. Her and her beautiful, amazing doggie family and breeder. I held her when she was about three weeks old, pink ribbon tied around her neck for identification, though I didn't know it was her at the time. We went home to Steamboat and waited, and puppy personalities developed and puppy energy grew, and our breeder emailed to say that she had found the pup in the litter that matched "us". The Pink Girl. And finally, it was time to come pick her up and take her home.
Steamboat sent us off Sunday morning with views of a hot air balloon rising into a blue sky, and the tunneled Rockies carried us through to Denver, where we were greeted with sunshine. And a little bitty Pink Girl sitting quietly and patiently by herself in a pen, waiting to meet her new family. Sweet and shy. I fell instantly in Puppy Love.
Now she is a Mountain Girl with a red collar. Frolics and bounds in the snow. Paws and pounces on any grass that she can find, which is very little right now in late March. Loves to hunt her toy fox. Likes the elastic straps on our snow boots. Whines sometimes. Sleeps sometimes. Cuddles all the time. Affectionate, snuggly, precious..., and this is Molly.