After we filled out all the adoption papers and passed the phone interviews and house visit, we were excitedly waiting for the call from the adoption agency that dogs were coming in and that the one that was just right for would be among them.
On our form, we said we wanted a male (because we had read that they are more loving), and young (because we were used to dog sitting border collies and thought we wanted a more lively dog), and of generally good disposition. We had heard that Stu at the agency had a knack for pairing just the right dog to each adopting family and so we placed out trust in that.
The call came on a Wednesday (May 9, 2007 to be exact) and all Stu said was “are you ready for your dog?” After us uttering an almost hesitant “yes” (it was our first dog as adults and we knew it would be a commitment now that the kids are grown and out of the house), he said his name was “something Southpaw” and to look on the website he was still shown as available. “Oh, and I heard he looks better in person. See you Saturday”, Stu uttered hanging up.
And there he was on the website: “Hallo Southpaw” looking scared, seemingly without ears and an awkward stance. But he looks better in person, I told myself.
Saturday came and Stu called saying that the dogs got lost at the airport. They were flown in from Colorado and were nowhere to be found at the airport in SF. Not sure if they got left in Colorado.
How can you lose a 75 pound dog, or two? Apparently it is possible. Finally, we learned that SF Airport classifies dogs as cargo and not oversized luggage (or was it vice versa). At any rate, the people picking up the dogs went to the wrong place.
The way to Stu’s house we spent in silence, each of us imagining in our own way our future with our new dog. We had spent the evening before deciding on a new name, because, awkward looking or not, he just didn’t fit “Hallo Southpaw” or “Lefty”. Out of the bottom of a bottle of champagne came “Latte”, after a long journey through the land of names related to speed (Ferrari, Maserati, Comet, …), athleticism and strength (espresso, … you can see where this went …).
Beating hearts in hand, we knocked on Stu’s door and entered the room where we were to meet “Latte”. An experience I will never forget.
This dog who was ripped from his known surroundings of his short 18 month old life just two days earlier, sent to surgery to get neutered, dragged onto a plane, lost at the airport, shoved into a car by strangers, and stashed at another stranger’s house … bounded right up to us and kissed us both on the lips and snuggled up for pets.
SOLD!
PS: Later we learned that’s how he greets everyone. But he had us (like everyone else it seems) from the get go.
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