Five hours it took, one way, to reach Tumburrumba. 3 hours on the way home. It was quite the Expedition. After all that, it seemed a bit ridiculous not to come home with a dog.
We have named her Ginger. It was always wolfieboy's suggestion for Elsie. But I had poo-pooed it, claiming I was too young to have pets referenced to Old Hollywood Style Movies.
But considering how much lobbying I had to make in order to get this dog in the first place, I figured this would be a small concession to make.
Looking through her photos that I've taken today, I am perhaps regretting my generosity a little, and wonder if in fact, Ginger really suits her. Or if perhaps a "Harriet" or some such amazon-esque name would be more appropriate. From certain angles she almost looks a bit like a southern polar bear. All big bones, but light brown and thin/gangly/lanky.
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| Ginger, the Big Southern Polar Bear.. |
We picked her up from a rescue group, who originally saved her from Wagga Wagga pound. They named her Cleo (presumably for the black kohl rims around her eyes). For the last few months she's been at the Correctional Facility (aka, gaol), helping inmates in a rehabilitation program. There were in fact two wolfhounds there. Cleo, and an 8 month old pup, who looked VERY wolfie.
I'd been looking on and off for another dog for a while. But Elsie still remained a constant reminder. She still is, even now. And I kept on worrying whether or not I was doing the right thing. Wolfieboy was also digging in his heels on various issues, such as commitment to another dog for another 10+ years. I see his point. But I also like the idea of wolfiepup growing up with a dog from a young age. Fred is already 9. If we're lucky, we'll get another 5 years with him. If not, and we don't get another, then all bets are off as to when we should. Having a young pup limits our options. So in this matter, getting Cleo (now Ginger), was a better compromise as she's already 2. Whereas an 8 month pup - you're starting from the get go, really. That, and he'd most likely annoy Fred a little too much. As Fred is such a submissive dog, it would have been quite hilarious to see him being lorded over by an 8 month old also.
Either way, we scheduled ourselves to see the dogs on Sunday. We left at 11, and turned up a bit past 4pm. Exhausted and a bit stressed that we were so late.
Ginger came straight up to Fred and wolfieboy. No aggression. Just the usual friendly greetings. Then she popped over to us, and gave wolfiepup a lick, straight up, before coming to me and asking for attention.
Her petrescue page said:
Cleo is a beautiful Wolfhound x (with what we don't know), she is very
friendly and loves people. She is a strong dog, social with other dogs.
Cleo is big and loves to run but watch out for that wippy tail.
And they weren't kidding. She was friendly and was definitely out to win points on greeting all of us in turn.
She was a lot bigger than I anticipated. I loved seeing her big paws. And her side profile was definitely her best side. From the front, she's just a bit well, funny looking... YMMV
We were warned about how hard she pulled, but I thought nothing of it, having dealt with Fred in the past. But we were also told that she was a quick learner and was super affectionate.
Considering that she was a girl and seemed to get on with everyone, I decided that we'd just get her rather than meeting the boy. I regret it, perhaps a little bit. But given that it was already close to 4.30, and we still had a 3 1/2 hour drive home, I didn't really want to prolong the inevitable. And really, I was just wasting everyone's time by doing it. I kinda knew deep down I couldn't handle having 3 dogs (not that we could have afforded it anyway), and a boy and a girl seems a lot better than having 2 boys. Even if Fred is a pillow with feet. And 8 months is young. Do I really have the energy/capacity to deal with an 8 month old pup, plus my own wolfiepup, and the ins and outs of everyday life?
The boy's profile said:
Gibbs is a big bouncy puppy. He is extremely social and gets on well
with other dogs. He is a big pup but we don't think he will grow to full
wolfhound size. This boy is full of personality.
I was warned by a friend that 'bouncy puppy' was most likely code for 'need lots of training'. The fact that the handlers had also told us that he was smaller than Ginger helped me decide, as I was dying to have a bigger dog (be careful what you wish for...)
We went back into town to get some cash. Wolfiepup, Fred and I went to the park to stretch our legs, and wolfieboy went off to collect Ginger.
Turns out she did a big wet slimy poo the minute he left the facility. Thanks, girl. Great way to ingratiate yourself into our lives, especially with the person who was most against getting you in the first place.
I was handed Ginger, complete with a pooey lead to deal with, while wolfieboy drove off to a convenient block of public toilets to clean out the car. Unfortunately I also had my hands full with Fred and wolfiepup. With strict orders not to touch my hands, wolfiepup was sent packing back to the slippery dip, while I battled a VERY pully Ginger (they weren't kidding about how strong on lead she was) with a pooey collar and lead, and Fred, who responds great now, but is strong at the best of times. By the end of it, I had to resign myself to the fact that my hands were going to smell of dog poo for days.... And that was nothing in comparison to wolfieboy's situation...
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| What's that fascinating smell?! Oh, that's right, my poo... |
Thank goodness they gave us a lead when we took her. It meant we could just dump it, and I put on Elsie's collar and lead. We never knew what to do with Els' collar after she passed. I, for one, certainly couldn't bring myself to throw it away... It is now getting a second life with Ginger. I'll probably get her her own collar eventually, but for now, it will do. It's got my number on it, which is the most important thing. I must admit, it jars a bit to see it on her and not on my Elsie Girl. But things are what they are. And I guess, at least it's getting used and not just sitting out there on the shelf in the yard, collecting wind and rain.
We finally got ourselves sorted and headed home.
About 45 mins away from home, down a dirt back road, Ginger decided she was sick of sitting in the back seat (fair enough, really, considering she'd been cooped in there for close to 2 hours by then, with lots of toilet stops for wolfiepup), and tried to escape by joining wolfiepup in the backseat. BAD idea. Wolfiepup was drifting off to sleep was given quite a rude shock, having a wolfhound bottom shoved in her face. Her screams of terror stopped us in our tracks, and wolfieboy got out to drag Ginger back into the back. If we had been on the main highway, this would have been very dangerous, as Fred had hopped out when we opened the boot, and Ginger does NOT like going in the car. Balked something fierce and needed to be carried back in.
For every misdemeanour that she made that night, my guilt was piling up tenfold. Did I do the right thing? We had to pull cash out from the credit card as the place only took cash, not card. She did the HUGEST mess in the car. Was she in fact toilet trained?! And now this. God forbid if she put wolfiepup off dogs for life...
Luckily wolfiepup took it all in her stride and after Ginger was removed, said to me, "Fred's not silly!" Ah, the resiliance of the young..
I ended up sitting in the back with wolfiepup to ensure another similar incident would not occur. And trust me - she tried. Complete with paw on the back seat, which I promptly shoved back down.
The rest of the drive home was without incident. After wolfiepup was put to bed, and the dogs were fed, Ginger slinked up to me and rolled over in submission. I guess dragging her out and dumping her back in the boot did its job and asserted our dominance over the pack...
Fred coped as he usually does, and crawled under the coffee table after I settled Ginger onto his spare bed. I ended up convincing him to come out for a belly rub and scratch and he spent most of the evening at my feet.
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| No, I am NOT convinced... |
She went to sleep without incident, although this morning I opened the laundry door to discover that she had spent the night sleeping on tile floor with her back against the door, while Fred had the luxury of both dog beds to himself on the other side of the room.
Today was slightly better. We spent the morning chilling out inside. I discovered pretty quickly that she was a smoochbot. All she wants is to lick your face and have belly rubs. If you let her, she'll just climb into your lap. That's over 40 kilos of dog wrapped around you. No, you do NOT own me, and No, I do not exist just to give you belly rubs...
Wolfiepup was initially excited, but after getting cornered by Ginger with licks, decided that she much preferred Fred with his gruff licks every few weeks. Elsie was never that affectionate. Oh, don't get me wrong - she was always up for a belly rub, but was content just to sit by you and listen to you natter away. This one, however, just wants your attention 24/7.
Having said that, after she chills out, she will happily sleep like Fred. So that's good. One of my concerns were that her energy levels would be too high. She hypes herself up, but can calm down relatively well.
We had some visitors come by in the afternoon, and after they left, she collapsed in a heap on her bed and slept again.
The walk in the afternoon was good. Wolfieboy decided to not bother with the lead. She seemed happy to roam but not stray too far.
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| Scoping out the home paddock |
Interestingly, she didn't seem to like the outside that much, and wanted to simply come inside. Fred wouldn't let her in his dog house (wolfieboy cut it in half after Elsie left), which I guess is fair enough. There's not enough room in there girl, and really... we only just met!
She's very food motivated, so we're working on her sit. Apparently tonight was the fastest she's sat down for food.
Right now they're both chilled on their respective beds. I still have some doubts, but at the end of the day I think she'll be alright. You're no Elsie. But that's ok. Because you're not Elsie. You're Ginger.
Welcome to the pack, Ginger. May your time with us be full of fun, laughter and joy. And may it last for a long, long time.
