By Bill Morgan, Staff Writer

 

My wife Terri has been in my ear about getting a dog. 

A couple weeks ago we went on a camping trip with another friend of ours who is part of a dog rescuer organization. He brought along this sweet Australian Shepherd dog named Seraphina to showcase the dog to potential interested parties.

The dog is a fluffy and all white and is completely blind (probably the reason its owners gave her up). She is really mellow and rarely barks or gets riled. Terri fell in love with the dog and immediately put in an application for adoption the day we got home.

Even though I warned her we were not ready to bring home a dog when our home isn’t set up for one yet and the fact we have three indoor cats, Terri didn’t care. She just fell hard for the dog and wanted to take her home.

A few days later, Terri got the heart-breaking news. The adoption agency would not allow Seraphina to be adopted into a home that housed cats. Seraphina — though docile and loving — does not fare too well with feline creatures, they said.

I know a lot of you would say, “well, get rid of the cats” or “make the cats be outdoor cats and keep the dog inside”. That’s all great advice, but those ideas just aren’t feasible for our situation right now.

Seraphina will have to find a home elsewhere.

In the meantime and with a headstrong will, Terri has been sending me notices of dogs all over the country ready for adoption should the time open up for us to bring one home. Our three cats are all in double-digits as far as age, so I keep telling Terri to just be patient and we’ll see what doors open up for us over the next few years.

Several years ago we had two dogs — Shelby (Husky/Chow Chow mix) and Grimmy (Yorkie) — and I remember we always felt incredibly guilty for not being such good dog parents as we should have. 

We should have walked them more. We should have taken them on weekend trips with us instead of kenneling them. We should have thrown frisbees and tennis balls and coddled them for as long as they were with us. We did some, but it was never enough.

Instead, we realized a few years into dog ownership, we just weren’t cut out for the constant attention and upkeep it takes to be a dog owner. That’s kinda why we converted to cats. Easier to take care of and far less work.

But, Terri’s constant barrage of potential adoptive pups is starting to cut through my thick skin. Last weekend on a trip up north, some friends and us stopped at a relative’s house to visit, but found nobody home. Nobody except their friendly black lab.

The dog was SO HAPPY to see us as we drove up and parked our ATVs near the road. After dismounting, the dog was at our feet, tail a-wagging.

My friend bent down to pet the dog and it yelped. Fearing the dog had an injury, he lightly patted the dog on the head and she yelped again. I called her over to where I was standing and she stopped yelping and sat on my foot as I stroked her silky smoothe fur.

Moments later, my friend again attempted to pet the dog as he neared his off-road vehicle and the pup yelped, yelped, yelped — yet insisted on standing in that spot where my friend was — receiving all the love she could with gentle strokes and verbal praises.

That’s when we noticed the dog had a shock collar.

So all the while we stood near the road, the dog was receiving electric jolts to her body, yet — she so  wanted the attention, the love, the touch of perfect strangers, she was willing to absorb the pain of 1500 to 4500 volts across her body.

What a lesson huh?

All you dog lovers out there already know this, but it’s hard to match the love and devotion of a loyal dog whom is raised right. 

Seraphina approaches people without sight and all she exudes is love. Her blindness has opened my eyes.

The black lab is willing to endure physical pain just to get a pat on the head or a stroke down the back. Her desire to be loved outweighed the surges of pain.

I only wish I could see with Seraphina’s eyes and manifest love the way that black dog did. I figure, if we all lived by their standard, this world would be — well, like dog heaven.

Who knows? Maybe Terri and I are closer than I thought in owning another dog. Thanks to those two shining canine examples.