At the time, I was convinced that I was allergic to dogs,
and any puppy we brought home had to be an “outside dog.” The dog would live in our big back yard. In anticipation of the big event, we brought
a second-hand doghouse home and put in the back yard. The boys and I had carefully put a fresh coat
of paint on the doghouse and put a dog bed inside.
Once we brought her home, and learned her name, we carefully
stuck reflective letters over the door to spell out her name: S
P I K E
These were the same types of letters you might see on
someone’s mailbox. I’m not sure if we
expected Spike to learn how to read her name, or if we were worried that one of
us would forget Spike’s name.
We had agreed to bring Spike back to the shelter
when she was a couple of months older to have her neutered. So when the time came, we loaded her back
into the car, took her back, and let the shelter perform the operation. Spike came home bandaged, drowsy, and
sore. During this time of recovery, our
three year old son crawled into the dog house with Spike to care for her. He spent most of two days in her doghouse, coming
out for meals and to go to bed. Spike
recovered quickly. .jpg)
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