"Ain't No Mountain High Enough..."

Wednesday.
It started innocently enough. Kevin had the afternoon off. No school. Yippee! Especially savory to him because Matthew did not have the day off. Brothers. And love.

"Mom, ppleeeaaase let's go to Happy Tales...you PROMISED next time we had a day off we could go."

Happy Tails is an animal shelter that fosters dogs until they are adopted. No matter how long it takes. They also visit the county animal shelters to scoop up as many dogs as they can possibly find foster homes for.

"Your brother will be SO mad. Why don't we wait and go on the weekend?'

"Ppleeeaaase!"

Call it 'working mother syndrome', or call it the 'I never get to spend time with the kids one-on-one guilt trip', or call it 'I have a laundry room full of laundry and the bathrooms need cleaning but it's spring and it's seventy outside and I don't want to be in here doing this'...Call it anything you want...but I caved .

Happy Tails is located in an old mattress factory in Franklin, Tennessee. It's called, appropriately, The Factory. Lot's of little shops and restaurants have turned it into an adorable old factory...if there is such a thing. We walked through the door with much anticipation on my younger son's part...and were greeted with...cats. Lot's of them. Now, I'm a cat lover too, but unfortunately they make my husband weep. Literally. He's so allergic that just by walking into a room with one in close proximity does him in. And he's a sucker for animals. So he wants to pet them. Not a good situation.

"I'm sorry. We don't have any dogs here today...they have all been all fostered. But there are a few at the animal shelter that are on borrowed time. You should go visit."

The woman at Happy Tails was sweet and very helpful and convincing, so Kevin and I got back into the car and off we went to find the county animal shelter.

We could hear them as soon as we opened the door. They knew we were there. Barking and wagging their tales. Pick me. Pick me. The animal shelter has a fenced yard so the animals can go out into the back and you can interact with them and watch them play. They have a huge tub of water out there for the dogs to drink from. We spent over an hour visiting and took several animals outside to spend more time with them. They were all sweet and every one of them had a story. My heart was alternately full and broken several times that afternoon. But we already had a dog at home. Practically still a puppy. Jackson had been with us for a year, and he was a spunky, sweet and lovable ball of fur. A handful. Part of the family.

But there she was.

This sweet little shepherd mix had a beautiful face and would not leave our side. She was different in some way. Quiet. Wanted to be petted and loved. Pick me. Pick me.

Thursday.
After school. Matthew.
"But it's not fair. You took Kevin yesterday and I want to go, too!"

"Okay, you two. We'll go back today, but, and let me repeat myself, BUT, we are NOT getting another dog. You fooled me once with the "I'll take care of it" and it seems to me that I am the one that feeds and waters and walks Jackson" (although I have to admit that I'm the one that fell the hardest for that little bug). We are only going to visit. Don't get any crazy ideas!"

So, there we were, three of us now, back in the car to retrace our steps to the animal shelter. A couple hours spent playing with animals that had looked at us from behind caged walls, full of hope, tails wagging, crying, barking, begging for someone to touch them. Love them. If only for a moment. Pick me. Pick me.

And there she was.

Again, that little shepherd did not leave our side. The other dogs ran and played and sniffed and explored, but she stayed with us. Loving us, part of our family for at least a few minutes on a spring afternoon. Both boys looked at me, with THAT look. 

"But we already have Jackson, and I work, and you two are in school...and what if they don't get along, and who's going to clean up the yard?"

Friday.
Lloyd got home early from work.
Lloyd and I, Matthew, Kevin and a very excited, wiggly, black ball of fur named Jackson, piled into the car for yet another trip to the animal shelter. Five of us now. After all, Lloyd and Jackson needed to see what all the hoopla was about.

They brought her out into the yard for us.

She came right over, and sat with her head bowed, waiting to be touched, waiting to be assured that we were really there. She and Jackson noticed each other then, and each sniffed the other in that 'get to know another dog' kind of way.

And then something miraculous happened. She 'tagged' Jackson with her front paw and leaped into action, running the length of the yard. He took off after her and as he approached, she swerved, turning to run in the opposite direction. He followed close behind her, his puppy body keeping up as best he could. She came upon the water tub, and as she ran by, reached into the tub with her paw and swiped through the water, sending a sparkling spray high into the air, to rain down over little Jack, who was following close at her heels. She turned around and they did it all again, this new game, this dance of pure joy played out on a warm spring afternoon. And only then, finally, did she come to a standstill, stopping once again in front of us, her captivated audience. We stood there for a minute, dazed, delighted, amazed and in awe. She and a slightly soggy Jackson, nudged and licked each other a few times, and without a word spoken, we knew.

She was coming home.
 
The boys are in college now, and Jackson and Josie are getting old, and like us, it takes them a minute, when they get out of bed, to get the bodies moving. They are always happy to see us. Jackson is still Mr. Personality, and Josie is still Mother Hen, coming to the door and tattling on Jack when he finds a break in the electric fence. And though I complain sometimes about the dog hair and the mess of paw-prints on the floors when it rains, they follow me around this house like the boys did when they were toddlers, and I can't imagine our lives without them.

So, it seems that even after a line has been drawn in the sand, it is never too late to make a change. No doesn't always mean no, and the things that are meant to happen in our lives, will happen. Like Josie.

Open minds. Open hearts.

Until next time,
Debbie