We recently adopted a dog. Our third rescue.

Molly, a sweet three-year-old, twenty-pound chocolate terrier with the hunting prowess of a full-grown Labrador Retriever, was our first. She came from the Miami Animal Shelter after her “mom” suddenly died leaving Molly alone in the house.

She loved to run. Oh, how she loved to run! On occasion, we’d take her to an empty field near our home in South River, NJ, and watch her go, flat out across the landscape. Ears plastered to her head, feet barely touching the ground.  

Molly was with us for thirteen years, through three moves. I don’t think she ever recovered from our final move to Georgia when she was fourteen.

Next came Lucy, a mostly black with white markings Shih tzu, Llasa Apso mix. We spotted a picture of her on a rescue site in Hialeah, FL. Funny how the state gave us another sweet girl to love. Lucy (named Gigi at the time), was abandoned at a pet store. I guess her previous owner couldn’t care for her and, thankfully, left her where she’d be taken care of. Anyway, it was love at first sight.

Through some sort of higher power, she was delivered from South Florida. to our doorstep in Northwest Georgia, four days after we saw her picture. Like her sister, Molly, Lucy also had that hunting spirit. She chased squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks, birds, and even the occasional wandering kitty cat, until she learned through years of frustration she couldn’t catch any of them. Still, the thrill of the chase, I guess.

We lost her very unexpectedly. Two days earlier on a Thursday, she was fine. By Saturday, we were given the only humane choice to stop her fear and suffering. We were both broken by her sudden departure.

Flash forward almost a year. Hearts on the mend, we decided to start the adoption/rescue process, again. I joined every rescue site in the greater Atlanta area. Even some out of state. One organization, Rescue Atlanta, was having a fundraiser. An afternoon event with food, drinks, and the chance to meet and greet dogs that were being fostered until being veterinarian and socially cleared for adoption.

We’d had our eye on a little fella I spotted on their website. He’d had a horrendous few years, but was recovering nicely. And, he and his foster mom would be at the event. We soon realized he was way too small for our lifestyle. Our home had double decks with posts he could’ve easily slipped through falling twenty feet. Disappointed, I walked over to a couple to find out if they knew which dogs were for adoption since the afternoon was also attended by pet parents and their adoptees. They sat on a sofa with a small white dog between them. He immediately stood up, wagging his tail and greeting me. His foster mom said, “Well, I’m not sure which dogs are ready for adoption, but Butters will be next week. Why don’t you sit down and get to know him.”

I did, and the rest is history. Butters (We renamed him Murphy) came home the next weekend. I can’t say it was smooth sailing because I used a whole bottle of Resolve puppy carpet cleaner, he ran out the door twice with two senior citizens with bad knees chasing him through the neighborhood, and he had no clue what, “sit – stay – come – no” meant.

However, he’s made huge progress in the past month. Not only that, he’s the sweetest, most affectionate dog, ever. Not to mention the silliest! The uncertainty about his age makes it difficult to know how long he’ll be with us, but I can guarantee, the coming years will be filled with joy.

One last message:

DON’T SHOP! ADOPT!