For the Love of Dog

What a face, no? <3

What a face, no? ❤

My dog-loving colors came out in a big way this afternoon.

Johnny sent me a text this morning about a (figurative) mild heart attack he had when he went out to the road to get the mail and came back to the house and there was a HUGE German Shepard Dog between himself and the front door. (Remember that post, “Who is Between You and the Door“?)

I rolled up into the driveway after work this afternoon, gathered my belongings, opened the door, got out of my car and shut the door, just like I do every other weekday afternoon. I turned toward the sidewalk and there he was; this behemoth of a dog!

He really startled me, but I think it would have been worse had Johnny not told me about his experience. So I did what I figured was the right thing; I put a hand out, didn’t look him in the eye and hoped for the best. In return I got a big ol’ sloppy wet Shepard kiss on the top of my hand and a tail wag. What can I say? It was love at first sight. I scratched his ears and talked sweet to him, and checked his collar for tags. He just let me love on him and I knew I had to drop my stuff in the house and let Johnny know this big fella was still at our place. I also grabbed my phone and shot a few pictures of him, because I figured he had to be local and thought that Facebook would be a good way to get the word out that there was a gorgeous GSD wandering around our neighborhood. I knew he had to belong to someone; his ears were clean, his teeth white, his coat shiny, and he looked well-fed. SOMEONE had to be missing this gorgeous doggy. (Can you tell I have a thing for canines?)

Good boy! Sweet puppy!

Good boy! Sweet puppy!

I think I went head-over for this big guy in a matter of minutes, which is odd to me, since the first dog I was ever truly frightened of was a big GSD when I was about five and the perceived Hound of Hell chased me down the street on my way home from school. I didn’t get bitten, but that dog scared the hell out of me; he was as big as I was at the time.

At any rate, I took a few pics, and posted them to Facebook with his collar color, the “bark” attachment that was on it and the vicinity of where we were, and in true social networking fashion, my friends helped get the word out. In minutes I was getting comments, likes and local shares.

Johnny said he thought he might know where this big guy lived, and jumped in the car and went to the neighborhood behind ours to check it out. He came home about 15 minutes later.

Meanwhile, our guest sat out on the front porch with me. All was well until our neighbor from three houses down came out, walking her Dalmatian. My new friend shot down the stairs and made a beeline for Roxie, who isn’t exactly the most social dog in the neighborhood. The Shepard wanted to play, but Roxie was having none of that. After a brief struggle, I managed to get him as far as Phil & Jill’s place across the street. Then he was off again. When Johnny came home, our “friend” saw who was getting out of my car and he went straight for my husband. Doggie-friend had tried to follow him back into the house and into the car, earlier.

I don’t advocate tying a dog up, as a general rule, but we couldn’t put the GSD in the back yard, given that we have two females in season, but we didn’t want him to run off and find his way onto the highway, which is only four houses down, so we had a long chain and fastened it to him and the front porch banister. We’d put out food and water for him, which he didn’t really touch. Johnny said he thought he’d found the owner’s home, based on the Golden Retriever that was in the yard with the same collar and anti-bark attachment that our new friend was wearing. Nobody was home, but then it was only a little after four-thirty.

Turns out our canine friend had been making the rounds of our neighborhood. I met one of our other neighbors, who asked if he was ours, and I explained what was going down, and she thanked me for tying him, as our androgynous neighbor (who turns out to be a she) was startled by the dog earlier and wouldn’t get out of the car until the dog was a safe distance away. Mrs. D, who managed to coax the dog away from Pat, told me she’d fed him and given him some water and he’d been back and forth between her place and ours most of the day.

So Johnny went to the store to pick a few things up and was going to make another round through the other neighborhood. Again, Fuzzy wanted to get in the car with my husband. I stayed out on the porch with him, whereupon he put his front paws in my lap. I think what really nailed it for me was when I sat on the front porch steps, he followed me, sat down and rested his head on my shoulders. He was eating dog food out of my hand and licking my face.

When Johnny got home, he said he’d found the owners. Our new friend’s name is Hero (how fitting!), and that they were waiting for him behind our fence on the other side of the stream.

After eating kibble from my hand and a busy day.

After eating kibble from my hand and a busy day.

We walked him over to where his people were waiting for him, and I expected to see a long-lost reunion, but that didn’t happen. The slope on the other side of the stream was pretty steep and Hero had a hard time getting up and over, so we moved down a bit. He still wouldn’t hop over the stream.

Mrs. Owner asked if we didn’t want to keep him, and like the idiot I am, I stated, “Oh, I wish we could,” although the appropriate answer would have been, “YES!”. Hero did hop the stream, did make it up the bank and if I stand just right on the deck, on my tiptoes, I can see him playing with his brother, the Golden.

I know a happy ending is a good thing, but I kind of got attached in a short period of time. I know, had we not found his people, Hero would have been our dog, because we sure wouldn’t have taken him to the shelter. I miss him, already. Why? Because if you haven’t been “hugged” by a GSD, you haven’t been hugged by a dog. ❤ There’s nothing better than sitting on the porch steps with a huge canine companion leaning into you and wagging his tail.

I’m pretty sure we’ll see Hero again. After all, it’s just a short jump over the stream to where the lady who hand-feeds him kibble lives.

My name is Julie and I’m a dogaholic.

Until Next Time…

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About Julie the Workaholic

Mom of three (grown) sons and one (grown) step-daughter, wife of one, friend of many, and owned by seven 4-legged critters, writer, photographer, friend, huge fan of life, and most of all, lover of all things beautiful .….Getting healthy, and hoping to make a dent in the world in a most positive way! (And then there's my alter-ego, the Workaholic, who is me, just unfiltered.)
This entry was posted in In the Yard, Life’s Little Victories, Of Interest and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to For the Love of Dog

  1. joyful2bee says:

    What an amazing dog! Who could blame you for wanting to keep a big sweetheart like that? So happy for him that he was lucky enough to find you and Johnny!

  2. Tim Taylor says:

    Bless your heart. I know how it is to fall in love with a dog that fast and who knows, next time he wanders over and the neighbor asks if you want him, I think we all know what the answer will be then 🙂

  3. You made a new friend! But more importantly…you sorted out Pat’s gender. A great day I’d say.

  4. Oh, Julie, I feel your pain. A couple of years ago, a coworker appeared in my office with a gorgeous, well-behaved mixed breed dog. She said the dog had jumped into her van when she got to the office, and there were no people with him, so she brought him inside to me. I fell in love with that animal. It was a Friday, and I figured if we couldn’t find his owners, I would take him home for the weekend. At that time, I only had my mixed border collie at home, so I knew they’d get along. Well, wouldn’t you know it, we were able to track the owners from his dog license number. Damn! I wanted to keep him.

    But when the owners arrived at my office, and saw their dog, the wife actually started crying. The electric fence had failed and both their dogs had taken off. The one I had managed to cross a very business street during rush hour and then trotted approximately a half a mile to my office. The other one, who was smaller, had been picked up by neighbors and returned to the owners. But they had been searching for “my” dog and were getting frantic when I called them.

    I made a promise to myself, however – if that dog ever again escapes and finds his way to me, I will keep him because at that point I would figure his owners don’t deserve him!

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