To the normal person, this would be the story of how I became Boo Radley’s owner. While it will tell you this, it really is a story about love. The kind of love where you would do just about anything for someone. Like walking 500 miles (and then 500 more) for someone. That kind of love.

For those of you who don’t know, Boo Radley is my dog, my best confidant, and the guy who can make a day better just by wanting to play sparkle with me (a story for another time).

The story of how I came to own Boo Radley really starts with my dog Duke, my dog before Boo Radley. Duke loved me so much that I went through each day feeling like I belonged. Like it is with all dogs, Duke wasn’t with me long enough. Long enough would have been forever and when Duke went to the great dog park in the sky, I found myself for the first time in my life without a dog and really not wanting another. It was just too hard losing them.

I moped around for a month. My husband became more and more concerned every day because the girl he knew loved dogs and bounced back fast. This was not his girl. A scary thought for a guy married to the same girl for 25 years. He started to beg me to look at the doggy adoption websites. He knew I couldn’t think about dogs not having homes long before I would want to adopt all of them. He was right. Before long, I picked out a beautiful border collie puppy named Lucy as our next dog. I hit the Adopt Me button and was surprised that I had to fill out an application and provide character references to even have the adoption place consider me as an owner for Lucy. My friends and family tripped over each other to provide the references I needed but what came next surprised all of us. They didn’t hand Lucy over to me. Nope. References be damned…I was not going to own Lucy.

You see, my interview didn’t go so well. As I drove away from Lucy’s wonderful foster parents house, I knew in my heart that there was no way in hell they were considering me as her owner. I called my husband, Ken and told him what I thought. He thought I was crazy. Then I told him what happened.

I arrived at the door full of smiles and so nervous I thought I would die from lack of oxygen. I could hardly say hello to the foster mom who answered the door. A mountain of a dog greeted me inside the entry. I’m not kidding, this dog was the size of a Buick. It snuggled up to me as I stammered and his owner apologized for his enthusiasm. I told her I loved big dogs. I’m pretty sure that’s what she heard but through the stammering it might have sounded like I shoved pig slogs. She invited me to meet Lucy so I must have scored a couple of points. She had a gate up between her kitchen and family room. Buick was to stay in the kitchen and Lucy was in the family room jumping at the gate. She saw me and she loved me instantly! Then she ran and hid under the couch after I tripped over the gate climbing over and almost landed on her as I fell flat on my face into the family room. Lovely foster mom’s husband was sitting right there at the computer and jumped up to make sure I wasn’t going to make a homeowners insurance claim. I said no worries, this happens all the time. I have good medical coverage. They exchanged a look. You know the one.

Foster mom coaxed Lucy out from under the couch. Her eight year old daughter passed her over to me and it was love instantly. Until Lucy yelped. You know that puppy yelp. The one where it sounds like someone stepped on them hard. No, no. I didn’t step on her. I was sitting. On the floor. So I wouldn’t fall down again. Good thinking on my part, I thought until I hugged Lucy too hard trying to hold onto her. It had been ten years since I held any dog smaller than a coffee table. Again, I thought I would die thinking I might have hurt this puppy. The eight year old glared at me. No one said anything. Lucy squirmed in my arms as I tried to make up with her. She made a flying leap towards the eight year old. I reached out to coax (grab) her back and let out the biggest fart you have ever heard. You read me right…biggest fart you ever heard. I couldn’t even believe it came from me as I’m really not a farter. Not so that you would know anyways. Foster dad broke into a cough. He was suppose to be appalled but it was a gallant fart. One that he probably could appreciate. Foster mom and eight year old, not so much. I thought I would die again. As you could guess, the interview was over.

Ken tried not to laugh at the farting part. He back pedaled and told me to find my sense of humor. I wailed that I was never going to own Lucy. He countered that I was making too much of this. I told him that if it were me, I would never, in a million years, give a puppy to a stammering, clumsy, hard-handed, farty person and neither were these people. Again there was silence because he knew I was right. He pedaled again right into positive mode and reminded me that there were a million puppies just waiting for me to bring them home. It was smooth sailing from here.

I don’t mind telling you that I cried all the way home. Never in my life had my geeky girl ways kept me from getting what I really wanted even though I’ve always had to try harder than most people. Any geeky type person knows what I mean by this. I passed the drivers test so they had to give me a license even though it was against their better judgement. I had the cash so they had to let me into junior college. I was a train wreck but had enough potential to get a job with a cosmetic company. They figured if they could make me look good, imagine what they could do for everyone else. But this time…no go.

It was also no go when me and a four year old and his family showed up to interview for the next puppy at the same time (with a different foster parent, thank goodness). Foster guy couldn’t believe he’d mixed up the times. The four year old’s parents explained that he couldn’t sleep because they just lost their dog a couple of days before. This puppy looked just like their dog. Their dog who was with them when they brought him home from the hospital as a baby. I couldn’t even bring myself to hold the puppy because I knew deep in my heart I was walking away from this one.

It was a no go when Ken told me we would have to really think about owning the Saint Bernard puppy with a cold that we visited at the adoption event at our local Petco. This was Ken’s nice way of saying no way in hell was he picking up coffee can sized poop from our backyard.

I gave up. Ken did not. He really didn’t like this girl without a dog (my new Navajo name). She was sad. Her self esteem was no where to be found. She no longer sparkled. And, all of the hugs and kisses she use to shower on her dog was now being showered on him and the cat. While he didn’t mind, the cat was crabby.

I was amazed when I received an email from the adoption place that they had eight puppies rescued from Tennessee that desperately needed homes. Apparently they hadn’t gotten the report back from Buick’s owners. Would I like to meet Rolo, a coonhound, border collie mix puppy? I hedged. They pleaded. I finally couldn’t stand it and agreed to meet Rolo.

The next morning I got up early, dressed nice, tamed my hair and ate nothing with bran in it. Ken met me at the door and announced he was going with me to make sure I didn’t leave without this puppy. I was surprised but I couldn’t argue. Maybe they would see Ken as a normal guy and give him the puppy. I perked up a little as I thought this just might work. I put on my Levi jacket and Ken hurried over to button me up. Weird. Believe it or not, I really can button myself. He unbuttoned my jacket pocket and slipped two dog treats in it and buttoned it back up. I asked what the hell he was doing. He said “trust me”. That’s when I saw it. That look in someone who was willing to do anything for someone they loved. I didn’t know how he was going to pull this off but it was clear he was already 795 miles in and was going the next 205 miles fiercely determined.

We pulled up to Rolo’s foster parent’s house. A young guy came out carrying the cutest, floppy eared puppy I had ever seen. As he passed this sweet puppy to me, Rolo perked up, sniffed a couple of times and threw himself at me. I kept thinking don’t drop the puppy, don’t drop the puppy. Ken pushed me to the ground with the puppy. He wasn’t taking any chances and I’m sure was silently saying a prayer that I wouldn’t drop the puppy. When we hit the ground, Rolo wiggled up around my neck giving me kisses and hugs and wiggling back down my chest. I heard Ken say to foster guy “look how much that puppy loves her”. This puppy did love me! It was trying to get into my jacket so I could take him home! I saw Ken put his arm around foster guy and turn away from me. Weird. All of a sudden, it was end of interview. Foster guy gushed over to me and said he would make arrangements to deliver Rolo to our house that afternoon. What? Really? What? Ken hustled over to me and before I could say anything, moved me into the car and as he drove me home, I asked him what just happened. How in the world did that guy decide in five minutes to give me that puppy? Ken beamed. Yep, beamed. He told me not to question it. A few hours later, I didn’t have time to question anything because sure enough, Boo Radley, formerly known as Rolo, was delivered to our house and my days were filled with all those things you do when you have a new puppy.

It wasn’t until months later that I realized just how many miles my husband went for me on that walk. Not just the miles to get Boo Radley, but all those miles when I was in between Duke and Radley. And the miles when I lost Lucy and my self esteem. And those bazillion miles when I gave up. To my husband, thank you. And for those of you I love, I have a new pair of tennis shoes and I’m oh so looking forward to walking with you.

Love, Really Geeky Girl

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