Sometime mid-April, my sister, Natalie, came across a craigslist ad for two Doberman-mix pups that desperately needed a home. Jonny and I ventured out to Topeka with the promise that we were just going to take a look. No adoption, just looking. Well, that's what Jonny thought. Meanwhile, I was making a mental list of the supplies we needed.
Truth be told, they were the saddest, most pathetic looking puppies I had ever seen. Seven weeks and crawling with worms, they were thin as rails with no energy to spare. They were nothing like the chubby, clumsy little pups I had seen online and on TV. I would like to say that my heart was overtaken with the desire to save these little babies... but that's not exactly how I felt. In fact, as we drove to PetCo with the two of them in the back seat, I had this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that we were in for a rough ride.
We brought them home, showed them off, and named the girl, Laila and the boy, Apollo. (My dreams of owning a girl dog named Thirteen will be realized someday, but when we named him Apollo, I just couldn't bring myself to link us that closely to NASA.)
When I mentioned earlier about being woken up several times a night, I wasn't kidding. These little ones required a LOT of attention. They had been sick most of their lives and as a result, their immune systems needed a lot of work. I remember one night in particular with Apollo. He had woken up with horrible diarrhea somewhere around midnight...and 1:30...and 2:15... and 3am... At some point around 4am, I took him outside again and stayed there with him for over an hour. It was quiet and warm and the two of us sat on the grass outside of the apartment. I had gotten zero sleep. I was exhausted. He lay by my side with his head on my lap and I stroked his soft fur until he fell asleep. He became my dog that night.
...and Laila will forever be tied to Jonny. I have no idea why. That little girl won't listen to a word I say until Jonny comes around. She jumps obnoxiously high when he comes home from work. It's adorably frustrating.
It's been five months of training, and accidents, and cleaning up messes, and constant supervision, and missing social/church activities, and lots and lots and LOTS of purchasing, and I don't think either of us regret any of it. It has been a small glimpse into what it's going to be like to have little humans running around.
Speaking of which...
Just kidding.
