My family always had animals when we were growing up. My father had a bit of St. Francis in him—patron saint of animals for all non-Catholics out there—so it was almost as if the animals really had us. I’d never seen an animal, of any kind, resist him or treat him with anything other than adoration. It was amazing to watch and as a kid, seemingly deified. But our dog had a unique bond with my father, and she was the reason I eventually adopted a dog as an adult. 

 

The origin story for our dog, Honey, was one of the best I’ve ever heard and any experience I have with pet adoption starts with her. As the story goes, my parents were considering getting a dog. My third eldest sister had threatened to run away apparently if we didn’t get a dog—one, among influencing factors in the decision. At this point, we already had nine kids, four rabbits, three ducks, and a pony. So, of course, we needed a dog. Marie was right to be passionate about it. How was it possible we didn’t have a dog? 

 

My folks had been asking friends about their experiences with dogs and many were aware that my family was in the market for pup. So, one day, my mother got a call. It was her friend Jane. She just returned from the pound (i.e., that which served as a pet shelter in the 70s but was really just jail for dogs). Apparently, Jane had been driving along Oak Street and she came upon a dog who was sitting in the middle of the road with two puppies beside her and one held by the scruff in her mouth. They were all beautiful Golden Retrievers, the puppies about six weeks old and Honey—the mother, very thin, very manky, and very young herself. 

 

It seems Honey was desperate to get help with her puppies, so she sat in the middle of the road until someone, in this case Jane, my mother’s friend, stopped to help her. Jane put the dogs in her car and took them to the pound. Once she got home, she called my mother to tell her, “Have I found the dog for you!” When my father got home from work, my parents and my sister Marie went to the pound to see this heroic dog and her litter. Though the puppies were beautiful, Jane was particularly bewitched by the mother, the dog that would be our beloved Honey. She described her as smart, sweet, and maternal. 

 

Fortunately for my family, when my parents arrived Honey was still at the pound. All of her puppies had been adopted within the span of a few short hours. She was eager to meet my family, particularly my dad, who from that day forward became her first greeting of the day and her last goodnight before bed. They had long conversations when he arrived home from work, and he was the one who knew her best and she knew he would be from the moment she met him. 

 

She was such a wonderful dog and our experience in adopting Honey was such a good one, I knew one day as an adult I would adopt a dog. And so, I did.