I met Redwood on December 9th, 1988. At the painful age of 13, I had pleaded my case all summer long to be allowed to raise an assistance dog puppy.
My younger brother was in the school band, played soccer, and actually participated in life. I, well, I went to school, and while I was a good student, that’s about all I did. In an effort to help me get out more, my parents let me get rabbits and join the local 4-H club; hoping I would make new friends and feel like I had something of my own. To add to my adolescent torture, the Christmas before, my brother had received a goofy little German Shepherd puppy. WHAT, that was supposed to be MY dog!! I was the animal lover, not Jason!! Mom and I had totally figured out that we were getting a sheltie puppy. What else could we have thought after Mom found the want adds sitting by the telephone open to sheltie puppies (we later realized, sheltie, shepherd, ah.)
We also were not allowed at Grandma’s house on Christmas Eve - what, not allowed?!! Grandma did nothing but bug us to come over more, and when she called, Mom was sure she heard a puppy in the background as Grandma scrambled off the phone.
So imagine, if you will, our complete and utter surprise to be the lucky recipients of a microwave and a stereo. WHAT THE HELL?? WHERE IS MY PUPPY??? Then Dad brought in this little black and tan, floppy eared, big footed shepherd puppy. My little life was OVER, OVER, OVER!!! Jason was stunned, as were we, and as big fat tears rolled down his face, Dad said “Every boy should have a dog.” And, that’s how Grizzly came to our family.
Grizzly was a good dog, I look back now and remember him at 8 weeks at the vet barking and growling for all he was worth and backing up the whole time and I think, “Yikes, stable temperament there.” Grizzly did, however, grow into a very large and lovely member of his breed, and, oh did we torture him. We played cops and robbers and made him be the super duper tracking/attack dog. Although he never did attack anyone, he would bark convincingly for us, and he could track Jason like a champ - so I always got to be the cop, cause Grizzly didn’t care to come find me. He was lovably uncoordinated the first two years, and we laughed as he repeatedly would come tearing down the hill and into the sliding glass door. Didn’t go over nearly as well with Mom and Dad, but they got over it. I begged my brother to train Grizzly, talk to him, and do stuff with him. My brother stubbornly refused with, “I shouldn’t have to talk to him, he should just KNOW what I want.” Then he wouldn’t let me do anything with the puppy, and then I got mad. I was so jealous I took it out on Grizzly, I hated that dog for a long time. I wouldn’t let him in my room, wouldn’t walk him or play with him. Poor Griz, he didn’t really care, he did, after all, have his boy.
And so we have me, 13, awkward, smart enough to be considered a “nerd”, and very disgruntled with life, and not just my brother with his trumpet, soccer ball, and his DOG, but with everything. My friends were no good, I had done a fabulous job of pissing them all off; nothing was fun, and so I got the bunnies. It helped for a while, and it got me going to 4-H. How I was ever going to actually show a giant, cranky, growling (oh, yes, bunnies growl) lop eared rabbit, I will never know - but somehow the fact that Kip hated all people other than me never occurred to me. I got brave and went to the 4-H weekend camp. Scary, I don’t like to be away from home, and all different people, it could be bad. The only thing I remember from that trip are some classrooms, maybe some lectures, and the GUIDE DOG PUPPIES! Dogs, they had dogs for projects! I followed them around, learned all their names, petted the dogs when I could, and grilled their puppy raisers about what was involved. I’m sure I must have seemed starstruck. It was just so wonderful to me. The idea of raising a puppy for a good cause, taking it places, teaching it; and even giving it up for advanced training seemed like a great idea to me. I could have a puppy, and I could help someone who would need a dog to help them. What could be better?
I went home and gushed about the puppies, and I’m sure that’s when the idea was planted in my parents heads. I hadn’t been that excited in a while. That summer, we went to the Del Mar Fair and saw the Canine Companions booth - more fabulous dogs. I took and read every bit of information they had there. Then we went to a graduation in November, where the puppies got formally presented by their puppy raisers to their new partners. I know I could feel the emotion in the air, and I think, maybe, just maybe, my Dad might have had a sniffle or two. I specifically remember one team, Billy and Unicorn. A child and a dog are a wonderful thing, a disabled child and a dog that can help him, when Unicorn ran to Billy and climbed into his lap with silly Golden kisses and wags, there couldn’t have been a dry eye in the place. Pretty powerful stuff, these dogs that made such a difference.
This is when Mom and Dad decided that I could raise a puppy. Dad had to get over the initial shock of a dog SLEEPING IN THE HOUSE - of all things, but once he wrapped his mind around that, he was very supportive of my puppy raising adventure. So, I was put on the waiting list in November for a lab puppy, my first choice was a female yellow lab, but black was ok too, and a golden would even be alright. But, there wouldn’t be any puppies ready until January. The agony of waiting. This was a million times worse than waiting to open Christmas presents.
Then we got the call from the office, puppies had come in early, and their were four! Two girls, two boys, all black labs - would I like to come pick one up? I nearly exploded I was so excited. Yes, yes, let’s go, now, now, NOW!! I remember very clearly the unbelievably long drive to Del Mar to pick out my puppy, when we got there, of course we had to do paperwork FIRST. When that torture was over, finally, we’ll go look at the puppies. What are their names? The boys are River and Ranger, the girls are Redwood and Robin. I knew, without a doubt, that Redwood would be mine. What a bizarre and horrible name for a dog, but that was my dog.
We walked out to the kennel, and they just opened the door and let both girls pour out. Robin went toddling down the hall to see what was out there, and Redwood climbed into my lap and bit my ear. Ah, puppy love. This one, absolutely this one. Crystal clear my thought was “I will spend the rest of my life with this dog, wait, no, she will spend her life with me, as I’ll live longer than her, oh, but no, she is only mine for the next 18 months - she will go on to someone else.” Go with your gut, even at 13, I knew, Redwood would always be with me, and what an amazing gift that has been.
Posted on September 3rd, 2007 by michelle
Filed under: My dogs, The Naked Part
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