George Rebane

Two or so weeks ago we got our new puppy as we arrived home from our granddaughter’s wedding in Denver.  We are dog people and we have been without a puppy since our noble Neiu went to her reward over two years ago.  It was an ordeal getting this mutt since we don’t fit the usual mold of sensitive and compassionate dog owners that many breeders today require.  The search began early this year and ranged from the bay area to Oregon.  We were looking for our third Dobie, a red female having smaller than larger chassis that is just right for travel.

Finally Jo Ann found a breeder in Sacramento, well connected and with all right qualifications, and available litters for the summer.  She started the phone interview hoping to end with a visit date.  It quickly turned out we were the interviewees.  His first question was ‘where will the dog sleep?’  Jo Ann said that it would sleep where all of our other dogs since the 1960s have slept, in its own fine, cozy doghouse outside.  That ripped it, we didn’t even get to first base.  The breeder said that not only would he absolutely not sell us any of his puppies, but since we had given him our name, he would tell all the other central California Dobie breeders that there was a relative of Cruella de Vil out there looking to put an innocent puppy through a miserable life of unspeakable hardship and torture.

We decided that if we ever did find a breeder this side of Seattle, our stock answer to THE question, ‘why all of our dogs have always slept in a California king between the two of us on 500 denier half-cotton, half-silk sheet under a Canadian down comforter embedded in an authentic Shanghai silk duvet.’  But the Lord had already had enough fun with us, and out of the blue we discovered that an Oregon breeder actually lived in North San Juan right here in dear ol’ Nevada County.  We didn’t have to use our pat answer even once.

The breeder was a very experienced and knowledgeable dog lady who told us when the litter would be born (whelped) and when she would get the puppies down here and show us the possibilities.  Well, only one possibility came with this litter, but the little ball of red fur stole our hearts instantly, and we started waiting for the magic eight weeks mark when she would be all ours.  With intervening visits to see her progress (this lady knows how to merchandize puppies), we finally took delivery of Puna puppy on August 3rd.

Almost fifty years ago Jo Ann decided that to honor my Estonian heritage, our kids and dogs would be marked for life with Estonian names – well, not actually names, but appropriate Estonian words that would sound like names.  Since then our seven dogs never knew the burden they bore, but our daughters have yet to forgive us – but that’s another story.  Puna is shortened version of the Estonian word for red, so there.

After a few days of getting over a reaction to a puppy vaccine, Puna entered basic training.  We run a tight ship around here, and the little tyke doesn’t know all she’s about to learn.  I forgot to mention that we also have two very savvy black cats – Leo (15) and Sara (1).  Leo has already grown up with a Dobie, and takes no nonsense from Puna.  Sarah has become Puna’s joy and soulmate.  Our dogs have been known to acquire quite a command of the king’s English, and learn well upwards of a hundred words that include abstract concepts like ‘in’ and ‘around’ and ‘more’.  With memories of our previous puppies now refreshed, both of us want little Puna to learn her words instantly so we can get on with our formerly well oiled and communicative life with our animals.  And I have to admit, she is doing a prodigious amount of learning for a two month old puppy.

Meanwhile, with toys and raw-hide bones and dog beds and bowls, our house looks like a new baby has arrived.  I again have ‘puppy hands’ with scabs and puncture wounds from sharp little teeth that come from being out romped.  I think that my skin was a bit more sturdy fifteen years ago when last I had puppy hands.  Puna doesn’t mind, she licks up all the blood she draws from this old body that is now fed two small aspirins per day.  I do recall that eventually they grow bigger and less frisky.