I come from a dog family. We lost our last dog to a brain tumor while we were living in
Germany. We didn’t want to put another dog through a trans-Atlantic flight so we had to wait until we moved back to the states to get another dog. Three years later we finally moved to New York and my mom and I asked my dad when we would get another dog. He was opposed to the idea. He said we were too busy – work and school all day and hockey all night and weekends (I had an Olympic dream). It wouldn’t be fair to the dog and he was right.
Then my older brother passed away while he was at college. My mom became far more insistent on having a dog. I wasn’t pursuing the Olympics anymore and we really needed to have a dog. My dad still said no. He had the same list of excuses. And he would get a little animated about it. They are expensive, they get into the trash, they are destructive (he would always act like he was shaking one of the Turkish carpets like a dog would), and he would always end with “and they carry disease.” We sat down and had this talk just about everyday until he finally screamed fine. I don’t think he was seriously giving the okay more like he was trying to get us to leave him alone.
That was good enough for my mom. She was working at West Point and she knew that they had a vet clinic on site that would sometimes have pets for adoption. She gave them a call while she was at work and told them that she was looking for a dog. She really didn’t care much about the dog so long as it would be a good pet. She told them that she would prefer large to small but not fussy about it. She would prefer short hair to long but it’s not a deal breaker. She would like a girl but she was really not fussy about it she was just looking for a good pet. They told her that they actually had a dog that she would probably like that just came up for adoption that day. My mom met the dog after work and took her home with her.
She is a white dog with faded black spots, short hair, and medium size. She is dog, cat, and child friendly. After an epic debate we decided to name her Phoebe. We ended up with the most well behaved dog I have ever even heard of. She never gets in the trash, she never barks, she doesn’t bolt, she doesn’t leave her yard, she doesn’t steal food, she doesn’t get on the furniture that she isn’t allowed on, and she doesn’t touch anything in a box or basket (not even her own toys or treats). We can and have left her alone in the house and she still won’t break any of the rules. Once we accidentally left a plate of bacon on the table and left her alone with it. It was untouched when we came home. She loves everybody and no one can resist to love this silly and playful dog.
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