Made in Richmond

In the spirit of Bugs Monday, Roosday, Bensday, Dogarazzi, and Thank Gus It’s Friday, I now deem Saturday as Zappturday!

Yeah, that’s right. I’m devoting an entire day of blogging to one of my dogs.

As the inaugural post, I thought I’d tell you the story of how the little lady came into our lives.

For most of my childhood, we had two dogs at once. First we had Boo and Bridget. Then Boo died and we got Buddy, making it Bridget and Buddy. Then Bridget died and it was just Buddy. Then Buddy died and then there were none. By the way, I don’t think all of the B names were planned.

We had been talking about bringing another dog into the house in the winter of 2004/2005. Shooter was well into his epilepsy and basically a neurotic wreck. I argued that he was so nervous because his entire world consisted of Ross and me. I think he thought he was a human and was frustrated. Just a theory.

Despite my valid arguments (read: constant badgering and whining and promises that if we got another dog, the baby discussion would be off the table), Ross would not budge. He had a point. It was better to wait until school was out for the summer so I could be home and deal with the chaotic adjustment that comes with having a new puppy in the house.

Boy howdy, did I hold him to that summer comment. I think I started looking for a puppy the Monday after school let out. Much to my dismay, the SPCA where we got Shooter was experiencing a major shortage of puppies. There we were, leash in hand and no puppy to be found.

One Saturday we went to Pet Smart to take a look at the puppies and dogs being fostered by the people at AARF. We spotted her pretty quickly: a teeny but spunky little ball of fuzz standing up in her little crate that was balanced on top of a bigger crate housing a much bigger dog whom she was mercilessly terrorizing.

I aksed to hold her and upon the first snuggle, I was hooked. The soft fur! The puppy smell! The over-sized feet! I *needed* this dog. But alas, AARF works on an application basis and there were several other people interested in taking this little one home.

Still, I filled out the form, figuring it couldn’t hurt but not expecting to get a call back. We had to give specific information regarding our approach to discipline, what kind enclosure we had at our house, would she be held in a crate, etc. etc. etc. You even had to put references down.

A couple days later I got call from Maura, telling me she had just spoken to a woman from AARF and gave me a rave review. My mother called shortly after saying that she told the woman, “Valerie takes better care of her dogs than I did my kids.” I knew I picked the right references.

About 5 seconds after I got off the phone with my mom, the lady called me. She asked a few questions, got clarification on some things, and said, “Ok, well you’re good to go now.”

“That’s it? Is she ours?” I squealed.

“If you want her, she’s yours,” she said, laughing at me.

We made arrangements for me pick up our new pup that Friday.

AARF dogs wait for adoption in foster homes, and it turned out that the lady I talked to had raised Zapp since she was just a few weeks old. The whole process took about 15 minutes, with Zapp sitting on the kitchen floor staring at me the entire time.

There was some wonderful puppy snuggling during the car ride home. She was small enough to curl up in my lap and she didn’t make a peep the entire time.

I was somewhat nervous about introducing her to Shooter. Part of me thought he would be super excited; another part of me thought he might collapse into a seizure because OMG! Change! Cannot process! Their meeting was super cute. As soon as she saw him she was on the floor, belly up, tail wagging. There was no questions as to who was boss.

Zapp slept most of that first day, as puppies often do. She didn’t seemed startled by household noises like dishwashers and toilets, unlike Shooter who never encountered these things at the SPCA.

When Ross got home, he took one look at her and said, “She’s pretty cute, but I still love Shooter more,” a statement he still stands behind today, even though I specifically remember an incident the other night in which he and Zapp were in a full-on embrace while sleeping.

Shooter is Zapp’s whole world, and she is his. Her tail starts wagging as soon as he walks in the room. You can say to him, “Go get your girl!” and he’ll find her, often dragging her by her collar to show her off.

They are complete opposites in everything they do. Shooter eats slowly and never makes a mess; Zapp eats her food in about 5 seconds and leaves traces of water mixed with drool all over the house. Shooter walks down the stairs one step at a time; Zapp basically leaps down the entire staircase. Shooter is above cuddling; Zapp will not budge for fear that you might deprive her of your love…and body warmth.

Sometimes she drives us crazy. I could do with less paw prints in the house and the need to burrow under every surface gets pretty old. But we’re glad she’s here and we wouldn’t have it any other way.