Adoption: A Short Story
Turning to talk to the lady now sitting behind a table I asked, “Can we take him, and after a few days.” if we see it will not work out cam we bring him back “Sure, you can,” the lady answered. "But, it‘s always hard on the animals, and we cannot return the adoption fee." “Done,” my wife said, "we’ll take him for a trial spin.” After filling out the papers, and paying the fee, we took Bobo to the grooming salon inside the store. “For ten dollar extra,” the groomer said, “We will trim his nails, bathed, groomed, him and be ready to go in about an hour and a half." “Otherwise," he said. "It might take up to three hours.” As we walked to the Bakery to get lunch my wife asked, “I wonder how often he pulls that, ‘For an extra ten dollars scam.’” That worked out great it will give us time to eat lunch and buy the things we will need now we are dog owners. After paying the adoption, for the grooming,
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food, leashes, collars, bowls, and an assortment of toys, we agreed that we may stop eating out so often for the next month or two. But the dog looked and smelled great when we picked him up and we are glad we took the time to have it done. BOBO accepted halter and leash surprisingly well walking on my right side out the door. When we got out of the store, my wife insisted that I pick him up and carry him to the car. She said she would ride in the back seat with the dog, so he won’t be scared. Unhooking the leash and put him on the floor behind the driver seat. Not what he wanted. he jumped up on the seat next to Joyce and made himself comfortable putting his head between his front paws and went to sleep. The only time he moved in the twenty-minute ride, was when I had to make a sudden stop for some nut that ran a stop sign. When we got home, My wife opened the car door and before she had a chance to get out, he hopped over her lap and out of the car. Trotting up to the front door beside me, as if he owned the place, he looked up at me as to say, “Open up dad, we’re home.” Once inside I touched his hindquarters and said, "Sit," he did. After unbuckling the halter, I took it off and laid it on a nearby chair, when I looked around, he was no where to be seen. I stepped into the living room looking down the hall, there he is in the bedroom doorway, sitting, waiting while my wife put up her things. He glanced my way, gave me with that not now look and waited for my wife. As she started toward me, he bolted ahead of her and lay by my feet. As I leaned over to pet him, he rolled over on his back all four feet in the air. Bending down I rubbed his chest with gentle strokes from top to bottom, he turned his head toward my wife. And I swear that little dog had a smile on his face. “Looks like he enjoys that, ” she said. “Yep,” I said. This is what’s called a belly rub, and it looks as if he is happy right now.” Joyce walked over and started rubbing his chest and tummy. Rolling his head in my direction I could see his eyes were half closed, and he was soon asleep. We let him lay there for a few minutes, walking around trying to be as quiet as we could. It wasn't long before he was up and sniffing around the living room, hall, and the kitchen. “Ok Bobo,” I said, “it’s time to check out the back yard, “come on, let’s go.” He had no hesitation in going out the sliding patio door into unknown country. He ambled off the patio onto the green grass, sniffing here and there as he walked across it. We have a walk, twelve inches wide, and three feet from the wall on both sides, and across the back of the yard.
Between the walk and the fence is out flower beds, shrubbery, and trees. Bobo found the walk and started walking across the back of the yard and smelling the plants and shrubbery along the way. Years ago when we had a poodle, we had a doggie door install in the sliding patio screen door. Until today, the door is wired and taped shut. After cutting the wires and removing the tape and oiling the hinges, I pushed Bobo through it both ways, in and out. After three tries each way he stood on the patio looking at the door, then without hesitation, he went in got a drink of water and out again as if he had done it all his life. I got one of the quarter-size tennis balls, called his name and tossed the ball in his direction. Quick as a shot he moved toward the ball and caught it on the first bounce. “Good boy, Good Boy!” my wife and I both said as we clapped our hands. He brought the ball back, dropping it at my feet, his eyes are now bright and
shiny. Wagging his tail faster, and faster he was ready for me to throw it again. I tossed it to the other side of the yard, and he was there almost before it landed. Dropping the ball again, he looked up and started wagging his tail to let me know he is ready to do it again. He continued chasing the ball across the yard and then bring it back. This is his game. I think I got tired before he did. Bobo found a place to relieve himself, on one side of our house, the yard runs back three-quarters of the length of the house. Our metal tool shed sits on this side, well out of sight of the patio, and most of the yard. The grassy area in front of the metal shed is the spot he chose to make his deposit. "Why did he go all the way around there?" my wife asked. "I guess because it is not in his play area.“ I said. “Dogs, if they have the chance will not mess up their den or surrounding area," I like to walk around the back yard (and the house) in my socks and no shoes So for this, and other reasons, we clean up after him, as soon after he finished. . Although this side of the house is his popo place or the place where he drops his stinky, he will water almost every plant in the yard. But that’s ok, we water the grass and plants with real water often enough that his watering will do little or no harm. My son was over one morning and watched as I cleaned up after the dog after he made a deposit. "It didn't even have time to cool down," He said looking at me with that inquisitive look he gets from time to time. "Well," I said. "At my age, I better get it before I forget it." The clerk at the pet store recommended that we get a dry dog food that is made for toy dogs and the special breed for Yorkshire Terriers. "The food," he said.
"Is smaller and easier for them to digest." We mixed it with a little canned dog food, and he ate like it was the best thing he has ever had, and he wanted more. (He got it). After our meal, we wanted to watch TV, but not Bobo, he wanted to play. Picking a ball in his mouth, he threw his head back, tossing the ball at my feet, then run down the hall, turning and crouching down in the attack posture waiting for me to throw it to him. After six or seven times, I decided not throw the ball and set it on the floor next to my feet. I waited a few minutes before I looked down the hall to see where he was. There he is at the other end of the hall lying flat on his belly, his head between his extended front feet waiting for the ball. “Come on, George,” My wife said, "Play with him." We played, and played until he stopped running and just loped after the ball, after picking it up he took his time and walked back. When he brought the ball back, this time, I held my hands in the air and said, “No All Gone! All Gone no more ball.” We all know dogs don’t understand what we say, but he dropped the ball, turned and walked into the kitchen to lay on the cool tile floor, I brought a cardboard box in from the garage for his then cut a half moon shape out of one side, so he could get it to get a toy. He sits and watched as I put the tennis balls, cloth rabbit and other toys in the box, then set it on the floor at the end of the couch. Bobo walked over to the toy box, after sniffing all sides of the box, he brought a toy over and tossed it at my feet. “Ok,” I said, “Looks like I’ve got a playmate writher I want one or not.” We played tug of war with this toy, then another one, until we used all six or seven toys he had.
food, leashes, collars, bowls, and an assortment of toys, we agreed that we may stop eating out so often for the next month or two. But the dog looked and smelled great when we picked him up and we are glad we took the time to have it done. BOBO accepted halter and leash surprisingly well walking on my right side out the door. When we got out of the store, my wife insisted that I pick him up and carry him to the car. She said she would ride in the back seat with the dog, so he won’t be scared. Unhooking the leash and put him on the floor behind the driver seat. Not what he wanted. he jumped up on the seat next to Joyce and made himself comfortable putting his head between his front paws and went to sleep. The only time he moved in the twenty-minute ride, was when I had to make a sudden stop for some nut that ran a stop sign. When we got home, My wife opened the car door and before she had a chance to get out, he hopped over her lap and out of the car. Trotting up to the front door beside me, as if he owned the place, he looked up at me as to say, “Open up dad, we’re home.” Once inside I touched his hindquarters and said, "Sit," he did. After unbuckling the halter, I took it off and laid it on a nearby chair, when I looked around, he was no where to be seen. I stepped into the living room looking down the hall, there he is in the bedroom doorway, sitting, waiting while my wife put up her things. He glanced my way, gave me with that not now look and waited for my wife. As she started toward me, he bolted ahead of her and lay by my feet. As I leaned over to pet him, he rolled over on his back all four feet in the air. Bending down I rubbed his chest with gentle strokes from top to bottom, he turned his head toward my wife. And I swear that little dog had a smile on his face. “Looks like he enjoys that, ” she said. “Yep,” I said. This is what’s called a belly rub, and it looks as if he is happy right now.” Joyce walked over and started rubbing his chest and tummy. Rolling his head in my direction I could see his eyes were half closed, and he was soon asleep. We let him lay there for a few minutes, walking around trying to be as quiet as we could. It wasn't long before he was up and sniffing around the living room, hall, and the kitchen. “Ok Bobo,” I said, “it’s time to check out the back yard, “come on, let’s go.” He had no hesitation in going out the sliding patio door into unknown country. He ambled off the patio onto the green grass, sniffing here and there as he walked across it. We have a walk, twelve inches wide, and three feet from the wall on both sides, and across the back of the yard.
Between the walk and the fence is out flower beds, shrubbery, and trees. Bobo found the walk and started walking across the back of the yard and smelling the plants and shrubbery along the way. Years ago when we had a poodle, we had a doggie door install in the sliding patio screen door. Until today, the door is wired and taped shut. After cutting the wires and removing the tape and oiling the hinges, I pushed Bobo through it both ways, in and out. After three tries each way he stood on the patio looking at the door, then without hesitation, he went in got a drink of water and out again as if he had done it all his life. I got one of the quarter-size tennis balls, called his name and tossed the ball in his direction. Quick as a shot he moved toward the ball and caught it on the first bounce. “Good boy, Good Boy!” my wife and I both said as we clapped our hands. He brought the ball back, dropping it at my feet, his eyes are now bright and
shiny. Wagging his tail faster, and faster he was ready for me to throw it again. I tossed it to the other side of the yard, and he was there almost before it landed. Dropping the ball again, he looked up and started wagging his tail to let me know he is ready to do it again. He continued chasing the ball across the yard and then bring it back. This is his game. I think I got tired before he did. Bobo found a place to relieve himself, on one side of our house, the yard runs back three-quarters of the length of the house. Our metal tool shed sits on this side, well out of sight of the patio, and most of the yard. The grassy area in front of the metal shed is the spot he chose to make his deposit. "Why did he go all the way around there?" my wife asked. "I guess because it is not in his play area.“ I said. “Dogs, if they have the chance will not mess up their den or surrounding area," I like to walk around the back yard (and the house) in my socks and no shoes So for this, and other reasons, we clean up after him, as soon after he finished. . Although this side of the house is his popo place or the place where he drops his stinky, he will water almost every plant in the yard. But that’s ok, we water the grass and plants with real water often enough that his watering will do little or no harm. My son was over one morning and watched as I cleaned up after the dog after he made a deposit. "It didn't even have time to cool down," He said looking at me with that inquisitive look he gets from time to time. "Well," I said. "At my age, I better get it before I forget it." The clerk at the pet store recommended that we get a dry dog food that is made for toy dogs and the special breed for Yorkshire Terriers. "The food," he said.
"Is smaller and easier for them to digest." We mixed it with a little canned dog food, and he ate like it was the best thing he has ever had, and he wanted more. (He got it). After our meal, we wanted to watch TV, but not Bobo, he wanted to play. Picking a ball in his mouth, he threw his head back, tossing the ball at my feet, then run down the hall, turning and crouching down in the attack posture waiting for me to throw it to him. After six or seven times, I decided not throw the ball and set it on the floor next to my feet. I waited a few minutes before I looked down the hall to see where he was. There he is at the other end of the hall lying flat on his belly, his head between his extended front feet waiting for the ball. “Come on, George,” My wife said, "Play with him." We played, and played until he stopped running and just loped after the ball, after picking it up he took his time and walked back. When he brought the ball back, this time, I held my hands in the air and said, “No All Gone! All Gone no more ball.” We all know dogs don’t understand what we say, but he dropped the ball, turned and walked into the kitchen to lay on the cool tile floor, I brought a cardboard box in from the garage for his then cut a half moon shape out of one side, so he could get it to get a toy. He sits and watched as I put the tennis balls, cloth rabbit and other toys in the box, then set it on the floor at the end of the couch. Bobo walked over to the toy box, after sniffing all sides of the box, he brought a toy over and tossed it at my feet. “Ok,” I said, “Looks like I’ve got a playmate writher I want one or not.” We played tug of war with this toy, then another one, until we used all six or seven toys he had.