Months back when we lost our Cassidy, the conversation began about getting a puppy. Quinn was adamant about wanting a Golden Retriever (damn you to hell, Airbud) and I was equally resolute that we were not getting a Golden. We negotiated and a compromise was reached – a yellow lab.
The family we had gotten Cassidy from didn’t have any puppies on the horizon and I was hesitant to buy a family pet from an unknown breeder. Fortunately, a librarian (thanks, Melissa!) friend had a lead on a litter in Greene County. We made contact and, on a snowy bonus vacation day, drove 40 minutes south to meet the impressively large litter of 14 gorgeous yellow puppies.
When we arrived at Jeter’s cozy home, I was immediately comfortable. The puppies were a tumble of playfulness under the watchful eyes of their mother and grandmother. This was not the home of an aggressive breeder and I was pleased to learn that Jeter’s mother had borne her first and last litter simultaneously. Many of the puppies were already spoken for, but we had no trouble falling in love with our nearly white little boy.
A few days later we went back to bring Jeter home and it has been quite an adjustment. I remembered, of course, that having a new puppy can be very similar to having a new baby. In theory. I had forgotten (blocked out?) the numerous nighttime walks, the puddles and piles, the teething and chewing… I also had completely failed to factor in the season – shoveling to reach grass and shivering at 3 a.m. really kicks things up a notch.
Despite each of these nuisances, I can’t say I would change anything about bringing this sweet, sweet puppy* into our lives and our hearts. As I spotted Jeter’s attempt at making his way down the stairs, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Cassidy’s late in life struggle to negotiate the same staircase. And I smiled.
*B52s reference anyone?