Liberty

Two short weeks ago, I was standing in a dark parking lot waiting for this:

Photo: http://allpawstransport.com/

I had tracked the truck online as it made the trip from Alabama and was eagerly counting the minutes until its arrival.  I had a harness in my hand and I was unsure if it was even the right size.  After all, I had never seen her in person.  Several other people stood nearby and anxiously discussed their newest family members.   

Will they look like they do in their pictures?  Will they be as loving as we hope?  Will they be scared?  Oh my, will they be cold?!

And then it appeared.  The truck pulled up and the crowd quickly huddled around the side door.  Terrified dogs emerged one by one.  Some were placed directly into their new owner's arms and their worried puppy eyes looked out at the spectators.  Others walked out, sat down, and fearfully refused to move.

I waited toward the back of the crowd; I didn't want so many people staring at me as I met her.    Finally, I handed the woman her paperwork and all of a sudden a flash of hair emerged.  She darted out of the truck faster than I had expected.  She was barking incessantly.  Her body was wiggling a mile a minute.  She didn't even notice that there was a person on the other side of the leash as she started running around in circles.  To my disappointment, she didn't even look at me. She didn't kiss me, she didn't snuggle.  She just flipped out and barked...and barked...and barked.

Woah, what did I get myself into?


I put her into the car, gave her water, and started the long drive home.  The rescue staff had told me that she "rides great in the car," so I hadn't thought much about the trip back.  It turns out that "rides great in the car" really must have meant "isn't afraid of the car."  She tried to climb on the dashboard and side door to look out the window.  She darted from seat to seat.  That apparently wasn't working so she climbed into my lap. She tried to put her feet up on the driver's side dashboard.  I prayed for my life.


Again, what did I get myself into?

I got home, walked her around the block, and struggled as she pulled ahead of me.  When I brought her inside, she sprinted from room to room, sniffed every inch of the apartment, and again, did not really look at me.  It was pretty late at that point and I couldn't help but cringe as she barked and barked.  I figured my downstairs neighbors were going to hate me.  She excitedly ran into the crate that I had set up with toys and bones and she emerged with a stuffed frog in her mouth.  As she ran through the apartment flinging the frog from wall to wall, I decided this was the time for me to sit down and try to get her settled.

I felt uneasy.  I thought perhaps I made a mistake and this dog was going to be too much for me to handle.  I sat on the couch desperately trying to show her how to be calm.  I let her approach me and she finally stared at my eyes.  I told her to sit and she promptly sat.   

I got ready to sleep and she marched right into her crate.

I tossed and turned all night.  She snored for 10 hours.

When we awoke, it was like she had been in my apartment for 10 years.  She was calm.  She was quiet. She was loving.  She was snuggly.  She was AMAZING.

For the past 2 weeks, I have been getting to know Libby.  She has learned her name and she is the sweetest, cutest, calmest, and most well-behaved love-bug ever.  Libby adores everyone and climbs into any lap that is in her path.  She sometimes sleeps upside-down with her feet straight up in the air.  She loves children and she is excited to meet every dog she sees.  Her favorite place is in her crate (I'm serious) or on the back of the couch staring out the window.

So, let me formally introduce you to Libby.
(Apologies for the iphone pictures)

Pre-Haircut:

Post-Haircut:

Welcome to the family, Libby.  We love you!