He started out looking like the Abominable Snowman and now he is just Snowman, as cute as can be.
I know I said "no mas," "no mas," after Snowball and Icecream, but something was missing from my life. After the sadness was gone, I realized I missed the pitter patter of little Bichon feet. Gradually I found myself back at what I'd decided years ago as Ice and Snow aged, that I would rescue replacements as soon as one of them was gone. Now they were both gone.
I started periodically checking the Internet for Bichon rescues. There were few who met my criteria: around five years old (negotiable), no more than 15 pounds (not negotiable). I applied to three rescue agencies within a four hour drive and sent an email to one. Nothing.
One Sunday night three and a half weeks ago I saw a face online:
I was hooked. I'm not sure why this face grabbed me. The nose? The teeth? The tongue? All that hair? I don't know. There were a few more pictures of him:
It was like doggie porn! Who was this "Emmet," this "Bichon mix, male, 2-4 years old, 11 pounds"?!!!
It was late Sunday evening. I fired off an email requesting an appointment to meet Emmet ASAP for possible adoption. I didn't expect a response before the next day sometime after business hours began. I received a response later that Sunday night! The response advised me I must submit an application before an appointment could be granted. References must be checked, etc. Yes, animal rescue agencies are almost as strict as child adoption agencies (for good reason).
PAWS (Philadelphia Animal Welfare Society) is the agency that had Emmet and although had I sent applications as far as CT, of course it was not one of the agencies to which I had already applied. I immediately printed and filled out an application. I scanned it into my computer (tricky, tricky, it took hours!) and emailed it off just before midnight Sunday night.
On Tuesday I was contacted and invited to come in and meet Emmet and if we liked each other, I could take him home. I was over the moon! Yes, my references had been checked. Yes, he could be mine. When would I like to come in? I wanted to rush right there, but I was on my way out to an appointment that morning. "Tomorrow, Wednesday, at 11 a.m." Yes!
When he was brought into the room where I was sitting, waiting, my first thought was 'he looks like the Abominable Snowman.' Thus his new name, "Snowman." We took to each other immediately. He licked my fingers tentatively. He stretched up and put his front paws up to my knees. He let me lift him onto my lap where he settled in for petting and conversation. I put him back on the floor. He walked away and come back to me. He ended up on my lap again giving kisses and getting belly rubs. At one point, while he was on my lap and I was sure he was THE one, there was a noise outside the open doorway and he growled. I think he had decided I was THE one and he didn't want anybody coming in to separate us.
The paperwork was completed. The fee was paid. And shortly after noon on Wednesday Snowman and I were headed for the highway that would bring us home.
After a settling in time, a trip to my vet, the required one week follow-up with the vet at PAWS and a reasonable time for neutering stitches to heal, I was allowed to get him groomed.
|Pensive at Bedtime|
We celebrate our three week anniversary today. We are both very happy with our circumstance. He is loving, lovable and loved.
Bona Fide Knitter
To add knitting content, I have been knitting with him napping in my lap. Perhaps he has brought about the return of my knitting mojo.