"Birth"days

Since November, I've been trying to write a post about Loyd. I've been trying to get all the Loyd stories into one, well-written, poignant yet funny post. It's not going well. I can't quite capture his spirit or my love for him yet. But, I couldn't let this week go by without a mention. Friday was the anniversary of the day Loyd moved in with me. I know people who would get special cakes (or at least treats) and have other doggie friends over for a party. I never did much to acknowledge the start of our life together. Sometimes I made a point of taking him for a long walk, but mostly I just let it be another day with the Big Dope (as my parents call him since he left us). Great thing about a dog: you give him food, shelter, love and there are no expectations about special occasions or anything beyond the next few minutes. So, clueless as I was about dogs, I simply loved him every day and I believe he loved me back.

I think it's time to start getting the Loyd stories out there, one at a time. I'm going to start with the story of how we met...

Loyd picked me.
On May 23, 1997, I went to the Humane Society, ready to bring home a dog. Loyd (Elwood at the time) was the only dog in the kennels not barking as I walked through. I stopped to pet him through the bars (I know, I wasn’t supposed to, but he gave me this look that made me melt….). I asked a volunteer to let us go out to the runs so I could get to know him better. He was so excited to be able to run around and to play with a tennis ball. He grabbed that ball and sprinted up and down the cage. He didn’t need me for that game, but every lap or two, he’d stop and lean against my legs to be petted or scratched behind the ear. The volunteers are taught to maintain a level of skepticism when addressing potential adopters. They are supposed to reinforce the reality of taking home a (in my case) large, young dog with little training who had lived with two families and been left at the humane society twice. The volunteer with me, during one of Loyd’s leans, said only, “so, you’re ready to take him home?” and I didn’t sense that it was a question. Shortly thereafter, I had a Gentle Leader, a leash, a bag of dog food, a list of vets and one very large dog loaded into my Ford Escort for the drive home. I don't remember the drive, but I can't believe he stayed in the back seat.