The Dog I Never Thought I Wanted

On a day in October a little over three years ago, I drove to Orphans of the Storm Animal Shelter. I parked in their tiny gravel lot and walked in, armed with the name and cage number of the dog I wanted. The place hadn’t changed since the first time I’d been there. Eight years before, my mom had taken my sister Ellie and me to pick Sammy. I remembered walking in all those years ago and the building smelling like dog and cleaning supplies. It still had the same smell.

That first time, when we went to get Sammy, there was no barking until my mom filled out some paperwork and we were ushered through a set of large, cold grey doors. Barking exploded in our ears. I don’t know about my mom or Ellie, who was twelve at the time, but I was surprised and a little scared and I was fifteen then. Although the building hadn’t changed in eight years, I had. Orphans of the storm didn’t seem as daunting anymore. Maybe it was just because I was older, but I think it might also have been because I was already a dog owner. I was here for my second dog. I had real life experience owning a dog and that made the building and rows of kennels filled with hopeful dogs seem smaller and not at all scary.

I walked up to the front desk and told the volunteer the dog I was looking for.

“Do you already have a dog?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Male or female?”

“Male, sixteen year old Yorkie-poo.”

“Oh,” he said, “Then you can’t have a male. You need a female if you want a second dog.”

“Oh,” all of my confidence slipped out with that one little word. A female! I didn’t want a female. What’s so wrong with having two males? I wondered. Apparently my experience as a single dog owner didn’t hold a candle to the experience you get as a multiple dog owner. I know now that you don’t always need to have opposite sex dogs, that it mostly depends on the dogs’ personalities, but three years ago, I didn’t. “I really want a Pit Bull,” I said.

The volunteer looked at me, “Well how about Mika? She’s trained and good with dogs.”

“Mika?” I asked, slightly curious.

The volunteer had me fill out some paperwork and told me her cage number. I walked into the kennel area and followed the numbers to Mika’s kennel. There she was: a glimmering chestnut Pit Bull with big expressive eyes that matched her coat, intact ears, and a pinkish nose. A tiny sliver of white on her chest was the only marking she had, like the painter forgot to finish painting her.

Mika was not what I wanted. She was not brindle or blue or any number of different markings Pit Bulls can have. She was a boring brown she dog. Still, she was pretty. She sat slightly away from the fence just watching me. She didn’t bark or lunge at me. She didn’t growl or cower or whine. Her ears were held normally and her tail was wagging. She was exhibiting all the right signs.

I went back to the front desk and asked if I could take her out on a leash. Another volunteer obliged and a minute later Mika was busting through those big grey doors pulling the volunteer after her. This dog was supposed to be trained?

I took the leash from the volunteer and Mika immediately lunged. I pulled the leash in and pulled her collar all the way up so it rested just behind her ears. When she tried to lead me forward again, I gave a quick tug on the leash. Mika stopped and looked at me like she wasn’t used to someone else being in charge.

It took us a while to make it outside. Every time she lunged, I gave a tug and made her come back to my side and sit down. She knew the “sit” command at least. We repeated this process until she stopped pulling. If I was going to have fifty five pounds of rippling muscle as a pet, she was absolutely not going to drag me.

Once outside, I took Mika around the compound. We met a few barking dogs through their fences and walked past the cats lounging on the other side of a screen. She had no reaction to any of it. She just walked and sniffed and peed. We ended up at an enclosed pen.

Once inside, I locked the gate and let the leash drop. Mika looked at me for a minute, then walked around sniffing and peed again. Everything she did was bigger than when Sammy did it, even her sniffing. She sort of gargle snorted and pulled hard at the scents.

After a while I called her back to me. On the second try she pranced over and looked up at me, large pink tongue lolling. I patted her huge head and ran my hand down along her back. She gave no reaction. Trying only to emit confidence, I moved my hand down her hind leg and lifted up her back paw. Mika sniffed the air. Setting down her paw, I ran my hand across her belly to her chest and down one of her front legs. I picked up a front paw. She tried to lick me. Next I patted her tail and her ears then put my fingers gently over her eyes with no reaction. I took a deep breath.

So far she was great. She didn’t react to dogs or cats and she let a total stranger touch her everywhere, something a dog has to do if they’re going to pass a test to be a therapy dog. Now I had one last test. I had to open her mouth and look at her teeth. Calm, I thought. I knelt and put one hand on her muzzle. With my other hand I lifted up one side of her lip. A pristine row of sharp teeth sat in pink gums. The dog stood there and let me do it, no fuss. I let Mika’s muzzle go, picked up the end of the leash, and stood. She wasn’t a senior or a male, but she seemed like a good dog. And even if her markings weren’t fancy, she was pretty. I walked her back to the front desk. This time she only tried to pull once.

“What do you think?” the volunteer asked.

I handed Mika’s leash to the other volunteer and he took her back to her kennel. “She seems like a good dog,” I said.

“Do you want to adopt her? She’s such a good girl. She’s a favorite around here.”

I wasn’t sure. I didn’t say anything.

“You said you live with your parents and you have another dog right?” the volunteer said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, your parents will have to come meet her and she has to meet your other dog before you can take her home.”

I wasn’t even sure I wanted to take her home. “Ok,” I said, “I’ll have them come meet her. Thanks.” I walked out of the building and sat in my car thinking about Mika.

I thought about her during the drive home and for a while longer on my bed upstairs. I picked up Sammy from his bed on the floor and asked him what he thought. I couldn’t discern his opinion through his bushy grandpa-brows. The more I thought about Mika, the more I wanted her. Finally I went downstairs to talk to my parents.

Two days later, after a lot of crying on my part and all of us arguing, Sammy and I were in the car on the way to meet Mika. Sammy froze when we got to the doors and tied to tuck his stubby tail between his legs. I had to scoot him through the glass doors. “You’re coming home with me,” I told him, “Don’t worry.” It was more likely that he was reacting to the strangeness of a new place rather than that he remembered his one and a half days at the shelter before we adopted him, but reassuring him wouldn’t hurt.

I half pulled, half scooted Sammy through the doors and then picked him up. Ten pounds of apprehensive fluff is easier to just carry. “We’re here to meet Mika,” I told the volunteer at the desk.

“Have you filled out the paperwork?” She asked.

I told her the volunteer my name. She looked through her pile of papers and took one out. “All right,” she said looking up at me, “Let me go get her.” She walked around the desk and disappeared through the double doors.

I put Sammy down and tried to tame my nerves. It will all be fine, I thought.

The doors opened and Mika flew toward us, dragging the volunteer. The big dog made a beeline for Sammy. A moment of sheer panic gripped me. This was NOT how I wanted them to meet. The volunteer had no control. It was happening too fast. Sammy was half blind and sometimes reacted to other dogs…

They sniffed each other face to face and then both of them turned their attention elsewhere. I let out the breath I was holding. Indifference was good. It was a far cry from snarling and biting. A grin spread across my face. I was bringing home this sleek female dog. She was going to be mine. Sammy was fine with her. She was fine with Sammy. Now the only ones left to meet her were my parents.

The next day my parents called me from the shelter. They had met Mika and my dad was in love. My mom wasn’t quite as taken, but she didn’t dislike the dog either. My mom finished signing the paperwork and she made a plan with the shelter for me to pick Mika up the next day.

I don’t remember what the weather was like on October twenty third 2010. Nor do I remember if the air smelled like fall or if winter was on its way. What I do remember is how nervous and excited I was as I walked into the shelter. I remember an ecstatic dog bursting through grey doors for the last time in her life and the leash being placed in my hand.

We walked to my car and I opened the door for her. She jumped in right away and watched me as I got in. Her whole body was smiling. My dog. My three year old female dog, the one I never thought I wanted.

Mika curled up in the back seat and slept the whole ride to her new forever home. The first thing she did when we were through the door was to run upstairs to my bedroom and jump on my bed. As I called Ellie to tell her the big news, I had two sleeping dogs in my room. One little old man snuggled in his bed on the floor and one young big girl snoring on my pillow. 

Mika was home, for good.