A Riot of Heelers

We spent most of yesterday sawing back and forth, emotions and logic battling it out, leaving us weary and unsure. Should we go look at the dog I believe to be Jinx’s sister? Should we leave well enough alone? Should we introduce chaos into a two-dog house that have finally reached a certain balance? What if she doesn’t fit in? What if our dogs’ personalities change and they become tense and unhappy?

I watched the clock swing towards 100 pm, the hour the animal shelter opens on Saturdays. The dogs were asleep; Mrs. Orr and I were silent, brooding our own thoughts to ourselves. I walked up to Bonnie’s grave and stood for a while. Then I came down to the house, changed clothes, and approached my wife, who was reading.

“Let’s go look at her.”

My wife’s face changed, though I am not sure I can describe it. Perhaps guarded would be the word. She nodded and put her shoes on and we got in the car and headed north.

When we reached the shelter, we saw a sign on the door. “Open by appointment only.” Ours was the only car there, and when I tried the door, it was locked. I started to get back into the car, when I heard someone at the door. A middle-aged man greeted us and bid us come on in. “Y’all want to look at the dogs?” he asked. He was mentally handicapped and had a mild speech impediment and a sweet smile. We followed him to another door and passed through it into a large kennel area. A friendly lady of about our age said hello and invited us around to the back aisle so that we could walk and look at the dogs. We were impressed with the cleanness and airiness of the place.

There were some very nice looking dogs housed there. My heart ached at the hopeful looks most of them gave us as we walked past. About halfway down the aisle, Mrs. Orr said, “Is this her?”

I turned and looked. I had walked right by her because I was expecting a dog the size of Jinx. But there she was, a miniature JInx, looking so much like him that it made me shake my head. She weighed perhaps 25-30 pounds at the most, whippet-lean. She was wagging her tail which was curved over her back…just like Jinx’s does. Mrs. Orr offered her hand, and the little dog licked her fingers, tail still a-waggin’.

The lady offered a leash and we snapped it on and went outside, where we walked her along the road behind the shelter. Another dog was exercising in the fenced run, and when the staff member finished there, we went to the long enclosure and let the dog off the leash. We watched her while chatting with the woman. Mrs. Orr asked her several questions. The dog had been at the shelter for about a month, and she had apparently had at least one litter of puppies. A few more medical questions from Mrs. Orr and then we leashed the dog again and walked her a bit more. My wife looked at me carefully, then said, “All right, then.”

The woman said, “Well, do you think you want her?” We both said yes at the same time. The woman smiled broadly and said, “God bless you! Let’s go in and do a little paperwork.

So we went back in and returned the dog to her kennel; she did NOT want to leave us. We went to the office and completed and signed the paperwork.  Thirty dollars cash for a little life. I felt that the figure was a reversal of Judas’s betrayal of our Lord. He sold the Savior for thirty pieces of silver. We bought a pretty little dog for thirty dollars. Then another thirty came into play…the lady asked us to return within 30 days with proof that the dog had been spayed. I fetched a leash from our car and we went back to the kennel and took possession of the dog. The lady asked if she could take a photo for their records, a “Happy Adoption Day!” We agreed and posed for a photo. On the walk to the car, a man and his young daughter arrived to look at the dogs. The little girl was smiling broadly at our new dog as we passed.

I lifted her into the back of the car — how light she was! — and we headed home. We were only a few miles down the road when the dog climbed over the seat from the hatchback and into Mrs. Orr’s lap. She sat quietly for the entire trip home.

Home. All those daydreams of Jinx falling in love with his sister and romping in joy with her faded immediately when he caught sight of the newcomer. Suffice it to say that he was not happy. Dixee was her usual high-strung self, yapping and yipping like a college girl who just got patted on the fanny.

We put up baby gates to keep the new arrival in the office, with a bed and water dish. Jinx and Dixee went from door to door, baking, growling, resenting, challenging. They soon settled down, and the new dog lay on her bed, alert and listening while Mrs. Orr and I talked names. We had already decided that my idea of “Caprice” was impetuous and wrong-headed. It was a fancy-dancy name and it simply didn’t fit her.

We have always been partial to Texas-ish names and country names. We ran through a long list of potentials, discussing them while Jinx walked to the baby gates and barked at the intruder. I will confess to wondering if he wasn’t at least a little unsettled by the fact that he was barking at a miniature him.

The people at the shelter had nicknamed the dog “Baby,” and it fit her, because she was showing herself to be a sweet baby girl. But we didn’t want to keep that name. Finally, Mrs. Orr hit on one that we both immediately liked: Bluebelle. It’s old-timey and has a strong Texas connotation. It’s also a play on words. She is part blue heeler, and the word belle means “beautiful.” A beautiful blue — Bluebelle.

So our new dog is Bluebelle. Did I mention that our favorite ice cream is Bluebell? Made in Texas? It is sweet and delightful.

We took Jinx and Bluebelle for a walk last night before dark, with me holding Jinx’s leash and Mrs. Orr taking Bluebelle, keeping about twenty feet from us. For the most part, they did very well, though Jinx wanted to circle back like Jen Psaki and glare at his sister. She’s a very good leash walker, never pulling nor willful, but content to keep an easy pace with the leash slack between her and the hand. The lady at the shelter told us that she is housebroken, and this has proven to be the case with one small exception. While Jinx was exploring outside this morning, we let her wander through the house and explore a bit on her own. Just as she was completing the tour, she stopped in the middle bedroom and tinkled a tiny bit on the (thankfully!) hardwood floor. I immediately put her out in the back yard. A short while later, I looked out to see her, goat-like, standing on the table, peering in the kitchen window.

My wife and I slept on the sectional couch last night, with Bluebelle sequestered in the office. Jinx spent the night on my legs like a spotted sack of cement. Bluebelle never made a sound, and we all slept very well. I am aware of my blessings this morning, even with barks and growls in the background.

As I write this, Bluebelle is in a small enclosure in the office, lying on her bed with a water dish nearby. The baby gates are down. Jinx keeps moseying in to check on her, but so far the barking has been minimal. While Jinx was outside, we leashed both the girls and let them do a meet and greet, and Dixee did better than we expected. A little growling and a little whining, but Bluebelle was calm and composed and made no sudden moves, and we were a bit more relaxed.

I also bathed Bluebelle last night, because she had a solid case of kennel-funk. Anticipating a big fight like the ones Jinx always offers when I bathe him, I covered the bathroom floor with towels, got the water to the right temperature, positioned the shower sprayer, placed the bottle of Dawn dish soap at hand, took a deep breath, and went to get Bluebelle. I lifted her little frame into the tub, and she stood there, as still as a horse in a stable, and let me wet her down, lather her up, scrub her from stem to stern, port to starboard, above and below, and she never flinched except when I sprayed the water a bit too close to her eyes.  She was as stoic as Marcus Aurelius during the bath…such a relief for me. I toweled her off and then Mrs. Orr took over with the blow dryer (which the girl did not like). So she smells a lot better and seems very mellow.

My prayer is that Jinx finds his mellow soon. I hope that, once he’s used to Bluebelle, they will indeed have themselves a time.

And now Mrs. Orr and I must discuss logistics…the feeding and bathroom routines, etc. I do not want Bluebelle’s presence to be a source of stress for my lovely wife, so it is important that we get these things settled. Improvisation and chaos are not conducive to peace and quiet, so we will map these things out.

It’s a beautiful, crisp day here at our little farm. I pray that it is a happy, mellow one as well.

Blessings to all of you, and a special thank you to those who prayed about this very significant step my wife and I took yesterday.

~ S.K. Orr