I recently had the opportunity to enter Berkeley Humane’s Best In Show annual rescue dog story competition and what’s more, got to the finals! Yes, I have a lot of time on my hands. But I also love Pablo.
The entry earned the respect of judges Jennifer Egan and Micheal Krasny, and Diane Dwyer, so myself and two other finalists read our stories during a special event, which unfortunately was not recorded. Some family and friends of Pablo wanted to at least read my candid canine tale, so here it is…
A Paws For Reflection:
I never had a dog nor did I think I would ever want one. Even as a kid, I just didn’t have a desire, preferring the relative ease of goldish and gerbils. Sure, I’d play with my friend’s pooches but I tended to frown upon anyone who’d talk to their pooch, let alone let the thing sleep in their bed.
So life went on, I graduated from college, got a job, had a career, got married, had a son, got divorced… still no dog despite a few midlife crises in there. Then I fell in love with a girl who had rescued a little guy named Pablo, part Shitzu, part Poodle, part unknown.
I remember the first time she went away and asked me to take care of Pablo. I was super nervous but wanted to impress her. I still like to tell people that I was a reluctant father figure to Pablo, but the truth was that I secretly had started to not mind him.
She came back from her work trip to find out that Pablo now had a waxed raincoat (it hadn’t rained in weeks) and a fancy leather collar (probably meant for a hunting dog), and I remember her saying something like, “You’re like that crazy wealthy relative who dotes on their nephew.” I took that as a compliment.
Was that when I first considered Pablo my own? I dunno, it just sort of happened.
I quickly became the one who would contact restaurants and wineries to make sure they were dog-friendly. I got someone to paint a dog portrait of him, one of those old, semi-creepy oil paintings. Of course, I’m the manager of @PawsOutPablo, his Instagram page.
I’m writing this essay and Pablo is cuddled up by my side, faithful and too trusting. He’s licking Commander Salamander, his best friend (besides me) who is a smelly rubber lizard chew toy that he takes everywhere. Guess who got him that?
I realize I got lucky, not just because I married Pablo’s mom, but because she brought him into my kid’s and my lives.
This year has been ruff on everyone, but I can’t imagine how our family would have gotten by without Pablo’s barking, begging, and bewildered anger management issues towards ducks and French bulldogs.
He brings a smile to our faces without trying and probably rescued us just as much as my wife rescued him.