23.05.12
-- Anonymous This will be our first Christmas without Bertie (pictured). He came to us almost 14 years ago, one week after Thanksgiving, and he wanted nothing whatever to do with us.
There had been an ad in the report stating that the Altamont Shelter had an Irish Wolfhound up for adoption. Our loved Dylan, a rescue Wolfhound, had died the previous April, and my 227 lb. baby had left-hand me bereft. He would sleep with his giant head in my lap, play hide and go with me outside and was truly a "gentle giant" with a massive funny bone.
I was strong-willed to let no one, no dog at all, take his place in my heart; my husband on the other hand was all excited, just like a 6-year-old boy in a battleground of snakes and fishing poles. So as not to disappoint, I went along for the ride. And what a stagger, what a disappointment. There was this runty dog (to my eyes anyway) who sat in his run with his back to us, as far away as he could possibly get.
"Uppity speck thing," I mumbled, even when the staff brought him out on his leash, he ignored us precisely. He did however as the staff kept telling us over and over have beautiful eyes but not for us. This 67 lb mutt was important us to get lost with every ounce of his doggy self. I did not want to be a complete shuffle on everybody else's excitement so I said, "yeah, sure" and waited in the car.
Source: Schenectady Gazette (blog)