A bit of personal news...
...we are expecting
August 21, 2023, our union became more perfect.
It was my birthday, and I had told Richard there was no need for gifts this year. The one thing we want we can’t buy or control— the amount of time we have left on the planet. I’ve already lived eight years longer than my dad, so birthdays remind me of mortality. And stuff is just stuff, taking space.
Predictably, he had a gift anyway. Enclosed in the pastel-colored gift bag, with tissue paper tufting out of the top, were three presents.
“I wrapped them myself,” he proclaimed, stating the obvious.
I assumed it had something to do with renting a jet ski that day, a guilty pleasure I’m ashamed I enjoy. They are noisy, go way too fast, and are obnoxious consumers of fossil fuels. Still, once in a while, I love going full throttle and jumping waves. Don’t tell.
I unwrapped the first gift— a small dog collar. I thought: Oh, god, a stuffed dog again. I smiled.
The next one was a leash. I did not smile. I was stunned.
The third was a box of poop bags.
To understand the magnitude of these gifts, early on in our courtship, we were going through litmus issues. I had a couple of deal-breakers if this bi-partisan romance could work (he passed the test).
However, it hadn’t crossed my mind that anyone could NOT be a ‘dog person,’ so this one crept up on me when I speculated aloud that we could get a dog. To me, that act would proclaim the permanence of the relationship in more ways than the traditional ring on the left hand or cohabitating.
So, 23 years ago, about this time of year, Richard Gilbert vowed he would never have a dog, and a part of the spark I had felt in the early days of our relationship died. He had to fly back to Chicago the next day for a business trip, and in his absence, I did a lot of soul-searching about the future. Could I say ‘I do’ to being dogless?
The problem is, once love is experienced, try as we might, it can’t be unfelt. It can be suppressed, yes. Not acted upon, yes. Forgotten, no. Feelings are not rational and cannot be controlled. At least, I haven’t been able to. Unspoken, yes. Not acted upon, yes. Forgotten, no.
And it was clear to both of us there was no turning back. Our union had formed, and if I’d made a pro and con list, the ‘pro’ category for this alliance was overwhelmingly in favor of the direction we were on.
Our lives were packed in many ways, including fulfilling work in different parts of the country as we piled up frequent flyer miles. We sailed miles offshore, running 24-hour shifts. And pondered the life of a canine on board when we would watch the silhouette of a man and his dog in the pre-dawn dark of morning, heading from an anchored boat to the land and shore.
Not much of how we spent our time would have been compatible with a pup. But things are different now. We are together 24/7 and whatever work we do is mostly accomplished from wherever we are.
Richard put a lot of thought into this paradigm shift leading up to the birthday. I asked a gazillion questions until I became convinced he was sure about this before getting my hopes up.
Two conditions had to be met, however. The new family member could not shed, nor could he/she grow to exceed our condo weight rules.
I could work with that, although I’m a big-dog-mutt-rescue person at heart. That said, I didn’t want to face a move if the dog outgrew the weight limit.
A poodle mix seemed the logical direction to consider, which leads to the ‘designer dog’ world - one I’ve not seen myself a part of. I looked at Craigslist, Facebook Marketplace, and Animal Rescue League websites within a 150-mile radius and did not find a maximum 25 lb, nonshedding puppy.
Nor do I believe in delayed gratification, other than the 23-year wait I’ve been on.
It didn’t take long to find a breeder an hour west of Okoboji who has a litter of pups ready for their new homes on September 21 (the day after the Okoboji Writers’ Retreat). Their mother is a reddish-brown Goldendoodle named Minnie, and the father is a red and white poodle named Goose. The pictures of the pups at five weeks hooked us, and when Richard came up with his name - Dudley - it became real.
I’m embarrassed to answer the question of what kind of dog we’re getting (Doodle) because I’m very aware there are animals in shelters needing homes.
Maybe rescuers will cut me some slack, as I’d like to think I have a sort of cap-and-trade credit built up when it comes to finding homes for shelter dogs. In my 20s, I went through a phase where I’d give puppies to people as a surprise. I’d go to the Animal Rescue League, pick one up, and present it to an unsuspecting friend.
Mike and Linda Kennedy from New Hampton got a cute Beagle mix that they named Katy Puppy. A college pal was bequeathed an Irish Wolfhound mix he named Cabbage. I could go on…there were over 10 I placed this way.
All but one recipient eventually forgave me. The exception was a family who lived in a small house with two children, and I brought them a Great Dane mix. That’s the only dog who was returned, but they got a small Pug-like one instead to soothe their upset children.
Dudley is a Doodle. He’s a mixed breed, too, only an expensive one. But, as Richard points out, throughout history, dogs have been bred for different purposes. Our Doodle combines the loving nature of a Golden Retriever with the intelligence and size of a Toy Poodle, creating a nonshedding animal that will purportedly not exceed 25 lbs in maturity.
How’d Richard come up with Dudley? It’s a family name. His brother, Jerry, died five years ago, and the loss continues to choke him up. His little brothers’ given name was Jerome Dudley Gilbert, and so to honor Jerry’s memory, our 3 lb 13 oz youngster will be named J. Dudley.
There is a resemblance in personality.
We have visited the litter twice now, and both times, Dudley bounded toward us as soon as I sat on the floor. He’s the most rambunctious in the gang of eight and seems bold and spirited.
We have no idea how this is going to work out. Pretty much everyone we know offers comments such as ‘Do you know how much work a puppy is?’ or ‘Your life is surely going to change,’ or ‘Are you crazy?’
If you want to continue this journey with us, I’ll keep a J. Dudley journal in a different column. Click if you want to subscribe: Dudley.
Bringing him into our lives could be a huge mistake. On the other hand, I suspect Dudley will have us trained in no time at all.
Some have reported the link to the new J Dudley column isn’t working. Try this:
P.S. There is one male and one female left in the litter. We could have play dates.
Have you explored the variety of writers we have in the Iowa Writer’s Collaborative? They are from around the state and contribute commentary and feature stories of interest to those who are care about the Iowa. Enjoy:
I adored my rescue dog, who turned out to be mostly beagle. I admit to having a Doodle now and yes, we do have fewer allergies. I have ten grandkids and at the time, an older dog and picked my pup out after watching a video of her and noting she was not aggressive. I kind of miss the god-like status my rescue bestowed on me, though.
So cute! Have 2 nieces with Doodles. Glad there is a poodle in the breeding, their doodles beat the weight boundaries. The increased toy poodle vs doodle should help. I had a cockapoo with increased toy poodle that kept size down. I don't know how you stood that many years without a dog...