WHENEVER ONE of my mother's pets would die, she would vow never to get another.
"I don't ever want another one [dog, bird, fish]," she'd say. "It's just too hard when they die."
But mom was an animal person and, in time, she would always find something else needy to nurture.
It's been nearly five years since my last dog died, but I have a problem: I can't find the perfect dog.
A person who has had a lot of dogs has certain ideas of what they want. No more hyper dogs; no more dogs that hate riding in the car; no more dogs that would rather stay home and watch TV than hit the trail; down with dogs that bark too much.
I've been looking for that just-right pooch for a year now. I call it my Goldilocks dog: not too big, not too small, not too noisy but a good watchdog, playful but laid-back for when I'm reading, and so forth. Like Goldilocks, in the children's classic story, I'm looking for a dog that's just right.
I've had lots of close calls, lots of "almost- but-not-quite" dogs. For if there is one lesson I have taken to heart about canines, it is: You have a dog for a long time; it shares much of your life.
And like certain other relationships I could compare it with, my rule of thumb is: The one thing worse than no dog at all is living with the wrong dog.
Take care of them right, and most dogs of medium size will live 10 to 15 years. Daisy, a legendary German shepherd in our family that grew up with my two sons, made it to 15; Sonia, a Shepherd-coyote cross and smarter than many people I've known, was 14 when she died. I'd love to have twins of either. My last, ND, was a sweetheart and died at about age 8 of a brain tumor.
It's dismaying when I check the local shelters and find that many dogs are posted as "owner turn-in." I know there may be times when someone really has to get rid of a dog, but those times should be exceedingly rare--elderly folks going into nursing homes, that kind of thing. A dog is a member of the family. At least that's the way it is in this household. You don't take grandpa to the shelter because he's cranky!
So my search goes on. If you've looked for a dog lately, you probably spent quite a few hours Googling your way from shelter to shelter or from one private rescue group to another. Been there, done that. Been frustrated along the way, too, by some of their attitudes.
On the one hand, we hear so often that the number of homeless cats and dogs in the United States runs into the millions; that huge numbers of them are euthanized because no one wants them. But some of those private rescue groups treat applicants for adoption like they're criminals: unworthy until proven worthy. I don't mind reasonable scrutiny to ensure I can offer a pet a good home, but when I put in for a particular dog and don't even get a reply, that's not conducive to building good "customer" relations.
One man I know quite well told me the other day he sent a $200 donation to a single-breed rescue group. They cashed his check, but didn't even bother to thank him for it. "That's the last time they'll ever hear from me," he vowed. My sentiments precisely.
I know they do good work. I know they're volunteer groups and are overworked. But in the last analysis, animal rescue groups need as good relations with people as with the animals they are trying to help. A few of them--emphasis "few"--need to remember that.
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A blue and doggy footnote to my Dec. 11 column on hiking. When I wrote about a day hike on the Virginia side of Great Falls, I was giving a trial run to an excellent guidebook to the state's trails, "Hiking Virginia: A Guide to Virginia's Greatest Hiking Adventures," by Bill and Mary Burnham.
I had phoned Bill Burnham for an interview and caught up with him in Key Largo, Fla., at his winter home. In the book, the Burnhams have a photo of their faithful trail dog, Sasha. In the back of the book they included a section on hiking with dogs--useful tips based on a great deal of valuable experience.
The day I called, Burnham explained that Sasha had gotten away and they were searching for her. All too sadly, it turns out she had been struck by a car and killed. In a note he sent me last month, he said Sasha's ashes will be scattered in Virginia when they return here this summer.
Only those who have lived with and loved a dog for years can feel that kind of pain.
PAUL SULLIVAN, a former reporter with The Free Lance-Star, is a freelance writer living in Spotsylvania County. Contact him by mail at The Free Lance-Star, 616 Amelia St., Fredericksburg, Va. 22401; by fax at 373-8455; or by e-mail to PBSullivan2@cs.com.