April 25th, 2000 is the day that I went to Jersey Shore Animal Center in Brick, New Jersey to pick out a dog. My dog. The first dog that wasn’t a family dog — he or she would be mine and mine alone.
For weeks before I went to the shelter, I had been dreaming about dogs. Big dogs, mostly. Some looked like Irish wolfhounds, with long legs and kind eyes. Some looked like malamutes or huskies. Some were fierce protectors. All were loyal friends.
I was sure I was going to find one of the dogs from my dreams at the shelter.
Well, there weren’t any wolfhounds at JSAC. There was a big black and white husky who had a bark that sounded like a goose honking… but he wasn’t much interested in me.
I did two laps of the kennels, looking at the dogs. Hoping for a connection. But I kept coming back to one dog. A big, black and tan dog — a cross between a German shepherd and a husky. He kept giving me a look, and I kept going back to look back at him.
Finally, I said I wanted to see that one in the yard. Miko. Seven years old, neutered male.
As we walked outside, the shelter attendant told me that he wasn’t very friendly with the staff. Miko immediately made a liar out of her by jumping into my lap and sticking his tongue up my nose.
It was love at first lick.
Because the shelter knew me and my family, they didn’t make me fill out an application or go through a home visit. They sent Miko right home with me.
That night, he busted out his repertoire of tricks. Without any prompting he shook hands (with both his left and right paws), spoke, and even sat up to beg. Someone had loved and trained this dog… and yet he ended up in a shelter. And I’m kind of glad he did. Miko was an amazing dog — the best dog I could ever imagine.
I miss you, bub.