Introductions

For ten lovely years, Raven has had the good life. She was found as a stray somewhere in Adams County, Colorado, and wound up in county dog prison. A rescue group plucked her from the animal shelter. They told me she was huddled in the corner of her cage, nose to the corner, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. She apparently had been abused. So they took her to a foster home, gave her some basic obedience skills, but mostly helped build her confidence. By the time I adopted her, she was still scared but a wonderful dog with loads of potential.

It was rough going at first. She dug craters in my flower gardens, and demonstrated an amazing skill for snatching hapless sparrows from the birdbath, leaving their bodies for me to dispose. She also took out a few squirrels that had dropped their guard in pursuit of fallen apples from the tree. I had never lived with a dog that had such a wild streak; it was definitely a challenge. On the plus side, she was the best exercise buddy I ever had, smart, independent, easy to please. After the first six months passed, I realized that I had fallen hopelessly in love with another furry creature, something I was hesitant to do after losing my sweet little Bandit, Raven’s predecessor.

Raven and I lived alone for a year before I met Dave. Much to my delight, Raven shared my love for him. When he was coming over to pick me up for a date I would say, "Where's Dave?" and she would run to the front door to await his arrival. Thank goodness his relationship with her was as good as our own, since I needed someone who could also bond with my beloved pet.

Now Raven is an old lady dog. She struggles with health problems and chances are she will not live more than a year. I have been dreading her loss more than any other. Despite all the craziness during the first couple of years we lived together, or perhaps because of it, she has wiggled her way deeper into my heart than any other dog has managed to go. So I began pestering Dave to get a second dog, in hopes that would help ease the pain when Raven leaves us. He finally agreed.

Enter Tonka, a two-year old rescue found on the eastern plains of Colorado near Lamar. The woman who fostered him said a ditch rider discovered Tonka. The poor dog was thin and covered with fleas. But he was smart, willing to learn, and so eager to please. They turned Tonka over to the Colorado Correctional Industries K-9 Companion Program, where prison inmates train dogs in basic obedience skills. Knowing we wanted to adopt from this particular program, we made arrangements to meet three dogs that seemed to have what we were looking for. In the end, Tonka won our affection.

Introducing these two was my biggest worry. The first few days were difficult as they jockeyed to establish a pecking order. Raven snapped at Tonka every time he came anywhere near. She was not at all amused by this little interloper, with boundless energy and no idea of established protocol in her house. Eventually the tension eased and it turns out she kind of likes the little fellow. We are still not sure who leads in the pecking order. Some days it seems to be Raven, other days I’m positive it’s Tonka.

The transition will be difficult as we take on the long process of helping Tonka adapt to a forever home. It is obvious to me now that adding a second dog will do nothing to keep my heart from breaking when Raven crosses the rainbow bridge. Whenever I think of it, my eyes fill with tears. The best I can hope for is that Tonka will be willing to sit close while I grieve. But what I have learned since he came to us is that my heart has plenty of room for more than one dog. I’ve also learned how much I admire the spirit of these animals whose lives began so badly. That spirit should be a lesson for us all.