Saturday, February 13, 2010 - Harry

Hello everyone! I didn't think I would get to blog today but I am babysitting my nephew Joshua and he is napping so it is computer time for me!

So where was I? Oh, yes, my beautiful puppies who were complete buttheads this morning. Dawson was not listening to me AT ALL and managed to push open the front door of the house. In an instant, he and Wrigley were both running as fast as they could right down the middle of the highway! I FREAKED! Cars were stopping and honking. Luckily, my neighbor, Pete, was on the road and pulled over to get them into his truck. WHEW! Thanks again Pete!

The one angel puppy, who is almost three years old and weighs about 100 pounds is Harry. As you recall from previous posts, I set out to Chicago to adopt my two puppies, Wrigley and Dawson (AKA as of today, Bonnie and Clyde). When I arrived at the Animart where the adoption event was being held, I immediately began to look for my puppies. I was so excited I was on the verge of tears. Stupidly, I thought that, since the adoption was approved, they would cage my two puppies together. WRONG! I found Wrigley in a cage by herself on the far end of the room. I smiled as I read the "Adoption Pending" note on her cage. She was everything I had hoped for and had fallen in love with on my computer screen. I began to look for Dawson. There he was about 10 cages away, curled up and sleeping amidst the chaos, with a little black puppy about his size. I stopped in my tracks as my brain screamed, "What is going to happen to the black puppy? I can't just take his brother from him and leave him here!" As if my mother, who came along for the ride, had heard my thoughts, she stood behind me saying, "No! No! No! Two puppies is enough! Don't do it!" Well, needless to say, I listened to my inner voice and not the audible one behind me. I approached Kristi, the director of the shelter and inquired about this black puppy. She explained that there was not a pending adoption and that he would have to return to the shelter and be by himself because he was the only large breed dog not getting adopted. My heart broke instantly. I had only brought $400 with me and Wrigley and Dawson were $200 each. "Kristi," I said cautiously, "What is your cat population like?" Kristi, who was aware of my cat rescue in Wisconsin, said with exasperation, "We have about 30 cats that have been with us for over 2 years. We just don't have a market for cat adoptions in our area." With a sparkle forming in my eyes, I said, "Ok, what if I took the 30 cats and got them adopted out in Wisconsin? We have a better chance there, away from the big city." Kristi looked at me and smiled as she said, "And you want the black puppy?" "Yes! Please!" I said, grinning.

So, my quest to get 3 golden retrievers and NO LABS, landed me a springer spaniel, a yellow lab, a rotweiller mix and 30 cats. That's just how things go sometimes!

I had come prepared for Wrigley and Dawson, whom I had named after my Chicago Cubs. On the first part of the 2 1/2 hour drive home, mom and I tossed around any name I could think of relating to the Cubs. Jody after Jody Davis, a catcher for the Cubs in the 80's. Zonk after Keith Moreland, my second favorite Cub of all time. Sammy or Sosa after the obvious. Aramis after Aramis Ramirez, the current third baseman. Nothing seemed to quite fit this little black puppy. Then, as we were crossing the state line back into Wisconsin, the lightning bolt hit me...DUH! What self-respecting fan of the Chicago Cubs would not name her dog after Broadcasting Hall of Fame and beloved drunken Cubs broadcaster, Harry Caray? My sweet little puppy's name from that moment forward, was to be Harry.

Harry is very much a mama's boy and only strives to be with me or near me at all times. He is the kindest, gentlest spirit I have ever met in a dog. Sometimes, when he is in a funny mood and doesn't want to eat his dinner, I have to sit with him and his food bowl and sing, "Har-ry...Harry Baby...Har-ry....Harry Baby..." to get him to eat. It's the least I can do for the greatest dog on earth. But, please make no mistake, if I am threatened or if Harry can sense fear in me, he will be the first through the door to protect me. He is a rotweiller with the gentleness of a golden retriever, but he is a rotweiller nonetheless. Don't mess with his mama. :-)

Harry had the misfortune of tearing his right rear ACL (anterior cruciate ligament - the ligament in a dog's leg that allows it to bend but stops it from moving left to right at the "knee") in April of 2008 while running around the yard with his brother and sister. Surgery was performed by our outstanding veterinarian on April 21, 2008, which was Harry's first birthday. He came through with flying colors and within 6 months was walking and running perfectly with no signs of trouble. However, tragedy struck my Harry Dog again in July of 2009 when he tore his left rear ACL. Statistics show that 50% of dogs who tear one ACL will tear the other at some point in their lifetimes. So that one was repaired on July 17 and, again, within 6 months, Harry was walking and running like a champ. We can probably expect Harry to have some arthritis problems in his old age but at 3 years old, he has a lot of life in him before that. And he is on supplements and vitamins to help him avoid that.

So my "free" dog has single handedly cost more by way of vet bills than his siblings combined. But you know what? I don't regret it for a minute. I thank God every day that someone at Wrightway Rescue, although probably unintentionally, had the foresight to put this little black puppy in a cage with Dawson for the adoption event. Otherwise, I may not have ever looked at him. Maybe he would have found a good home, but, selfishly, I am thankful he found one with me. I am proud to be his mom.

So that is my Harry Dog, my Harry Caray, my Harry Man...my Freebie...one of the great loves of my life. Stay tuned tomorrow or Monday and I will tell you all about Tucker.

Have a blessed day and thanks for reading.