Our White Dog

Adam proposed on January 19, 2011. By the end of March we purchased a white couch. On April 16, we purchased a white dog.  

Adam wanted a dog since the day I met him. One dim-witted day we decided to visit the Fort Collins animal shelter. We spent about five minutes looking into the eyes of dogs, seemingly screaming “Save me!” in between their tears and broken puppy hearts. I walked out sobbing, demanding that Adam never let me go back to a shelter unless we could adopt every living creature residing in the animal prison. From that day I decided we needed to rescue a dog with the following qualifications:

1. He had to be older-most people want puppies

2.  He had to have been in the puppy prison for a while, a true rescue

3.  He had to be potty trained 

4. He had to be fairly independent as we are teachers 9 hours of each day 

5. He had to be docile, again, as we are teachers 9 hours of each day

6. He can’t jump fences as he would have the run of our large back yard, bridged to the house by a doggie door… and again, as we are teachers 9 hours each day

7. He can’t bark…teachers…

After looking online, we found this avenue less emotionally draining, we discovered a large percentage of the dogs in shelters are some sort of Pit Bull. A shelter near Colorado Springs had a “bully breed” who had been incarcerated for his entire life. His online review spoke of “a genuine love for people,” and “looking for his forever home.” This dark brown dog was named Nicodemus and I fell in love with him. Adam and I filled out the application necessary to adopt a Pit Bull and enjoyed approval the next day. We went to Petsmart and picked out food, treats, a blue water bowl, and a blue leash, with plans to drive to the Springs on Saturday. With each passing day I grew more attached to my “Nicky.”

Saturday arrived and we loaded my car with Nicky’s car ride water, treats, and his new leash. Two hours later we pulled into the shelter’s enclosure and saw our Nicky in a pin. We immediately noticed that he was breaking qualifications 5-7. Let me restate that, he was pounding these prerequisites  deeper into the dirt with each exuberant 5 foot leap he made into the air, all the while, barking. Loudly. We spent about five minutes with Nicky and knew we could not take him home with us. I started sobbing, ready to leave. If I couldn’t have Nicky, there would be no dog. Adam asked if they had any other dogs meeting our needs. She said there might be one other dog-Mighty the white Pit Bull mix. She brought Mighty outside and I skeptically admitted he was cute. She took him off the leash as Adam knelt down. Mighty ran full throttle towards Adam, planting his front paws on Adam’s chest, knocking him to the dirt, drenching him in kisses. Mighty chose us. He even jumped in our car before the papers were signed.

We knew we had to change his name due to the stereotypes surrounding Pits. If anyone is in need of a title for his dog, my mom is the whispering-puppy-namer.  After hesitantly greeting her new grandpuppy, she declared his name to be Mickey. My 26 years of life have seen Muffin the cockapoo, Boomer the mutt, Penny  the purebred spaniel , and Toby the wild Louisiana dingo. Mickey is my favorite. We will celebrate what the vet believes to be his 9^th birthday on April 16, 2012.