There are dogs bred to herd sheep and steers. Enzo isn’t one of them.
And there are dogs that assist the sight-impaired. That’s not Enzo either.
Certain breeds flush game from tall grass but Enzo does not hunt, pull sleds, sniff out contraband or repel intruders.
The two and one-half year-old spent 10 days waiting to be adopted. He was withdrawn, mistrustful and desperately in need of a haircut.
Joanna and Peter drove two hundred miles during one of the meanest days in many years (-20°) bent on adopting a dog that same day. Too soon for a new mutt? Joanna was confident that her Jude would have understood.
The shelter’s app listed three dogs that might work given their apartment and their allergies. The least promising, the only one left when the couple arrived, had been written up for urinating and nipping. Patience was advised.
Enzo inspected every inch of the living room at the Mulder-Baker household before sequestering himself there. Its couch revealed truths about the late Jude that only another dog could understand. It was reassuring.
Enzo feared the hallway leading to the rest of the place. Something in its closet made noise and caused heat to fall from the ceiling. But the kitchen and its activities called and eventually Enzo allowed himself the run of the place. Once on the bed he inched his way toward nighttime contact.
Because he’s skin and bones, Peter and Joanna feed him canned food. They agreed they wouldn’t repeat the table scraps mistake they’d made with Jude. Maybe the squeaker toys Peter brought home would compensate.
Ezno is taken out three times a day. Joanna does the a.m. and Peter the p.m. Midday is a toss-up.
It’s not unusual to see the writer of long-form articles in the New York Times, The New Yorker and The Guardian — one well along on an anticipated novel — abandon his work in a window at our coffee shop to show his new dog the neighborhood.
We tend to think of shelters as places we humans go to rescue animals. And that’s true as far as it goes but more often than not, the rescues that take place go in both directions.
Lynn Crosswaite
Love these stories.
Pat Shiplett
Thanks, Lynn. So nice to hear from you
Randy Gaynes
I must have a soft spot for dogs-even mutts called Enzo. Cute story, Pat. Almost made me want to run out and get another dog…almost, not quite, maybe in my next lifetime.
Pat Shiplett
I know the feeling, Randy. My wife May says she’ll get a dog when she lives alone. We are all entirely too replaceable.