Kathy Rohloff:
Everybody Has His Own
Idea of the Perfect Dog

In 1999 my 72-year-old friend Larry was suddenly widowed just before Christmas. Sadly, in mid-January his 10-year-old German shepherd Trooper died. The death of Trooper left him feeling really alone, and so I counseled him to get another animal as soon as possible.

"Larry, you need something to care for with Blanche gone. Think about it."

"Nah, I’ll be fine. I don’t think anything could replace Trooper, he was too dog."

Two weeks passed and I got a phone call, "I’m going nuts. Can you take me to the Humane Society? I need a dog; I need something real soon. I gotta have something to do."

The next day we took off on a cold January day to find the perfect dog. Larry was convinced that he would know by instinct the one that would be his.

We entered the building which reverberated with varied barking tones. We were directed toward the kennels and began to examine the canines. Each cage had a fact sheet stating the animal’s name along with pertinent information such as temperament, habits, and pedigree.

April, a cute little five-year poodle/terrier mix capered along her cage, yipping, and drooling generously onto our extended fingers. "Not bad," Larry remarked. "She seems like a friendly thing, but isn’t she a little small?"

A four-year-old Rottie named Bell with "no bad habits, good with children, and housebroken," calmly gazed at us and wagged her tail stump. "This one looks nice, Larry. And she’s only here because her family had to move."

Placid, liquid eyes looked up at Larry as he said, "Nice, but she seems too calm."

Larry’s eyes brushed past the next two cages and spied a large German shepherd/hound mix that was hurling himself violently from one side of the cage to the other and barking incessantly.

Larry’s eyes glazed over as he said, "Hey, that looks like Trooper."

He made a bee-line to Adam’s cage, a nine-month-old pup that was "too much work for the previous owner." Adam flung himself against the bars, barking, salivating, and occasionally jumping up to try to lick Larry’s face through the cage.

"Sit," Larry commanded. And for two seconds Adam stopped and then leaped upward again and spun in a circle, barking furiously.

"I think I’d like to take him for a walk and see how he is," Larry said.

"But do you think you can hold onto the leash, he must weigh 90 pounds or so?" I queried.

Looking past me to one of the volunteers he called, "Ma’am, I’d like to take this one for a walk."

First the attendant blocked the opening to the kennel, and then she wrestled Adam’s head into a collar and lead. Handing Larry the leash she said, "Good luck."

Adam was pretty calm on his way outside since there were so many cages to sniff en route. Once we were outdoors, he continued to calmly explore the snow, trees, and picnic table. Whenever Larry made any attempt to call him, Adam responded promptly with face licks and wriggling. It was clear after 15 minutes that Larry had made up his mind.

"He seems nice enough, Larry. But he’s so big. You know that Rottie is fully trained, and the poodle would be good company. This Adam is nine months old, only a pup. He’ll be a lot of work."

"I want him," he replied firmly.

The three of us went back in to fill out the required forms for Larry to become Adam’s owner. The staff were pleased that he was going to a good home, but seemed sorry to see him go. "He’s so lively!" they said.

Adam pranced ahead of Larry out the door with a new collar and lead. Since he had already surveyed the area close to the building, he bolted toward the parking lot where the car was situated. Larry held on. At first he made a valiant attempt to run along behind Adam. Finally Larry gave up, dug in his heels, and successfully skied behind Adam to the car. Adam abruptly sat down on his haunches when he reached the car, and Larry stopped when he slid into the driver’s side. Turning with a bright smile, he cried, "I like him!"

Obviously, this was the perfect dog.