This is the story of how I and my Yorkie, Mason, found one another. It’s a long story, as most stories are when you fill in the details. But let’s just cut to the chase and look at the condensed version.
When I retired and moved to North Carolina to live with and care for my elderly Mother, I knew I wanted a dog. I was no longer working long hours as an English teacher and could have one, I thought. Mother didn’t like the idea at all. This is rural North Carolina, where many people have outside pets only, and they leave their dogs outside even at night, ostensibly to guard the house.
I can’t see getting an animal to work for you,
unless it’s cleaning up his toys or something. I’ve always loved animals, and I think my pet’s place is with me. Since there was no way Mother would agree to a lab or a boxer or anything remotely large, I started looking online for shelter dogs, trying to find a small one, a Maltese or a Yorkie. For Mother’s sake I didn’t want a young puppy that needed to be potty trained.
I liked the idea of the Maltese, since I had enjoyed a weekend at a friend’s home with one once, and it was not only cute but intelligent and fun. Poodles are very intelligent, considered by many experts to be the most intelligent dogs, so I looked at them too. I started to investigate Yorkies since I knew the least about them. All three of these types were perfect for me, because I have several allergies, and they’re all hypoallergenic, so to speak. They don’t shed.
Lots of people say negative things about Yorkies, I think mainly people who don’t have them. Most of the Yorkie owners I’ve met tell me some things they aren’t crazy about, like “She barks too much,” or “He’s bossy,” but they always follow it with “I wouldn’t trade her for anything,” or “I love this dog!”
My Yorkie has taught me the meaning of the phrase, “lap dog,”
because he loves to be in my lap. He also loves to walk with me, and we do it year round three or four miles a day, except when it’s in the 90’s every single day, as it has been recently. If I sit, he wants to be in my lap, or catching the ball I throw for him. He is never outside without his leash because we live in the country beside a highway where the speed limit is 55 and people stick to that or go above it regularly. I wouldn’t leave him outside alone because he is small and birds of prey are known to steal small animals.
Also a friend of mine who lives close to me has shot and killed a bobcat, a coyote, and a fox recently, not to mention having spotted a bear! As we encroach on their land, the natural territorial order changes and they move into ours. It’s not safe for my little dog outside. That’s something to remember if you have a small pet. Maybe even a larger one; I saw that coyote before Joey shot and killed it, and it was lean and hungry!
At the close of 2016
I went with my sister and a friend to watch the Christmas parade in Broadway, which is a small community bordering the town where I live. There I saw a ninety-year-old lady with her Yorkie, which she let me pet and cuddle. I was already on several mailing lists of shelters, trying to do the right thing and adopt a dog with no home, but it seemed every Yorkie that came up had hundreds of people who wanted it, and nothing had happened over about a month and a half of looking. As I held this lady’s little dog, I just longed for one of my own, and I was determined to find it. That day I made up my mind that I was getting that Yorkie soon.
On the way home, I poured out my heart to God.
His eye is on the sparrow, right? He cares about what I want, I thought, so I poured out all my frustrations and disappointments. I had other things to do to keep busy, online research work that was keeping me happy, and I was taking care of my mother, the house, and all the accompanying responsibilities, but I longed for that little dog to enjoy long walks with me through the beautiful countryside.
When I got home,
I went straight to my computer and it was the first thing I saw. A lady had just posted a notice and photo about the most adorable Yorkie I had seen yet! I messaged her right back, and she had already had multiple people asking about it, but she was looking for the right one, she said. She told me the price, the details about the dog – he was ten months old, potty trained, and she had to give him up because she traveled and was constantly leaving him behind. I made an appointment to see the dog the next day and arranged for my sister to go with me in her more practical car than my Mini Cooper to hold all the stuff, including a big crate.
When she held Mason (he already had that name; I would not have chosen it, but it was already his name, and I wasn’t about to change it) out to me, he came into my arms wriggling and licking every square inch of my face he could reach. I was hooked! She told me that someone had offered her twice the price the night before, but this person already had a pit bull and two toddlers. (I have learned that the only thing Mason is afraid of on sight is a toddler. They don’t know how to handle a pet, and they pinch and squeeze!). She said if she had given Mason to that woman, nice as she was, she wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night.
The rest is history.
My online work took a turn the very next week. My favorite person at the company took a new job with an online magazine called Little Things, and invited me there. As it turned out, every time she had work for me, choices involved articles on dogs, so I wrote one and continued to write them until I had written twenty altogether before I stopped and decided to write my own blog. It was perfect because I was learning about my dog from my online research and writing about it too.