Why I'm not allowed to help strays anymore ...

Sarrah in the snow

I am a huge sucker for animals.  Those commercials for the ASPCA on television make me cry.  The “Friends of the Memphis Animal Shelter” facebook page makes me want to adopt a million puppies every day.  I don’t love them quite like that crazy cat lady from Youtube ™ mind you, but still, I love them.  It gets me the biggest sighs of “what the heck is wrong with you” from Clark Kent.  It has gotten me three dogs. 

Kyla, aka Bat Dog

I love my dogs.  Sarrah is our first baby.  She was ours before Peanut.  She’ll be 11 this year.  I love her.  She’s a SPCA mutt.  The best kind of dog there is!  Kyla is our “middle” dog.  She’s a rescue center mutt too.  She was terrified of people when we got her, and she’s still terrified of our water bowl.  She’s 6 years old.  She’s not the brightest crayon in the box by about 40 shades, but she’s loyal.  She loves to go get the mail and newspaper with Clark Kent.  But my little dog, he’s special.  And he comes with a great story of triumph.

His name is J.D.  He’s my shadow.  My mini-me.  My “oh for the love of God please don’t get right under my feet while I’m trying to do housework” dog.  My lay beside me in the chair dog.  My sleep under your bed because I love you dog.  He’s mine.  But only since last September. 

J.D.

There I was, 4 ½ months pregnant and it was 8am and hotter than … well, it was hot.  I was walking with one of my best friends (who’s really more like a sister to me, but that’s a whole ‘nother story) after dropping Peanut and Bean off at school.  Pushing Monkey Man in a stroller.  As we cane up the hill from the school there was a little dog running around the intersection like a mad chicken.  I couldn’t let him run around like that.  He’d get run over and smushed.  So I called him (here puppy, puppy style) over to me and picked him up.  He had no tags, but a smashing John Deere collar.  I figured with a cute collar like that, and as well groomed as he was, he had to be somebody’s lap baby.  So I hauled him back to my car (it wasn’t so far, okay? And he’s little, too.  So no comments about pregnant ladies and rabid dogs and all that).  Then Monkey Man and I took the little guy over to the local vet.  Surely he was micro chipped. All dogs are these days (except mine, because I’m not quite that trendy).  Nope.  Nothing.  No tags, no chip, nothing.  Crap.  So I go home and start with the postings.  Facebook, Craigslist … and make a poster.  I called the Animal Shelter, which has the most unhelpful staff on the planet unless you want to drop some animal off there that they’ll just likely kill in a couple days because he sheds wrong anyway.  I called the Humane Society.  They said to put up posters, but only for 5 days.  After that I’d start getting strangers calling who just wanted a dog.  So posters went up.  Found: Jack Russell? Please call.  Nothing.  We called him J.D. because of his John Deere collar.  Didn’t want to give him a “real” name because he wasn’t ours.  Clark Kent, who was in London at the time, asked at least twice a day if he had gotten picked up. He is not as big of an animal lover as I am.  But I wasn't as worried.  The pup cheered me up.  He seemed to like it here well enough.

All the while I sat at home for 3 days waiting for a call.  After 5 days one lady called saying she just knew someone who would love a Jack Russell. Posters came down.  No more creepy phone calls.  Now, these dogs are known to be hyper.  Not J.D.  He just lay around the whole first day.  I figured it was because he was tired from all that running.  The second day he ran out the front door thanks to Monkey Man.  I had to chase him 4 houses away, because what if his owners called? Yeah, then I’d look stupid, hu?  But days 3, 4, and 5 he just lay around.  The kids played with him.  He stayed right with me.  No one ever called.  The kids loved him; he was house trained (for the most part) and had an amazing temperament.  He just lies around all day.  He lets Peanut and Bean put doll clothes on him.  He lets Monkey Man pull on him.  He lies with me.  He cuddles on the chair with me.  All through my pregnancy he lay by my side, cuddled next to me at night, you name it.  After Bug was born he tried, but of course nursing a baby and cuddling a dog don’t mix.  We’re finally starting to cuddle again.  He’s my snuggle puppy and he makes me smile.  He’s loyal to me.  Not to our family, mind you.  Me.  He never gets more than a couple feet away from me unless he’s sleeping.  I don’t know where he came from and I don’t know why they didn’t want him back.  He’s not a Jack Russell, he’s more a Rat Terrier, but that’s okay. His bark is insanely annoying.  He is still a bit of a puppy (though we can’t be sure, he’s about 2).  He runs and hides when he’s done something wrong.  But he snuggles.  Sometimes a random event that seems like it’s just a good deed can change your heart forever.  That’s what J.D. did.  I can’t imagine our family without him now.  I’d be snuggle buddy-less.