Chuck to the Rescue

Recently, I wrote a column about my doggie dilemma, in which I pondered whether I should to accede to my daughter Julia’s request to get a puppy, even though my instincts screamed DON’T DO IT!! Although I thought my capitulation was evident, I was wrong. I received several emails from readers who offered a reasonable alternative to a puppy: get a rescue dog. They counseled me:

I encourage you to consider adopting from a rescue.These dogs survive great physical and emotional stress and give humans a model for adapting and recovering our trust in the world. Like all dogs, they bring unconditional love into your life.

and

Please consider a rescue dog; not too young, but not too old. It will save you the sleeplessness and challenges that come with a puppy. Though puppies are darn cute…they are a lot of work. More importantly, while this sounds horribly cruel, the reality is they will not be as long a time commitment. If you adopt a mid-age rescue dog, you will really be helping rescue each other. As you already know, the last two years of high school will fly by and then your daughter will be off to college. The dog will also be a help to you after your daughter leaves, because he/she will help make sure you go “out” instead of “in”; forcing you to get some exercise and fresh air, and stay connected and grounded.

While there is precedent in the family for getting a rescue dog (my stepson Dan and his girlfriend Nikki adopted the much-adored Buckley), Julia and I gave it no consideration. It was the life that a puppy brings into a home that most appealed to Julia. So, with more than a touch of déjà vu, we are puppy-proofing the house, with Chuck nipping at our clothes, our toes, our furniture, our dishtowels and much more. Chuck casualties to date include a new computer charger and the aging family room carpet – nothing that can’t be replaced, but annoyances nonetheless. Fortunately, Chuck’s mellow disposition has won the hearts of all who have met him, which is great for me, for he is collecting invitations for sleepovers and play dates as fast as he is digging up my new landscaping.

As I consider how life has changed in a few short weeks, it strikes me that Chuck really is a rescue dog. When I see the smile on Julia’s face as she plays with him, or when I feel that soft bundle of white fur nestling at my feet while I’m writing, I appreciate that although we didn’t rescue Chuck, he may have rescued us. For, according to Julia, the four-legged guy with boundless energy has provided a welcome break from the quiet, sadness, and boredom that had permeated our home for too long – and has put a smile on her face.