esrosedotblog

TWO

Two years ago yesterday, we went to Las Vegas to pick up Booker.

Our beloved Franklin had died six weeks before. Melanoma. No warning. Very fast.

We stood the pain for two weeks and then called the Southwest Airedale Rescue people.

Booker had arrived two days before we called. He had been living in Reno with a younger couple. The mom had died, we think in an auto accident, and the dad couldn't cope. He had the good sense to call the Airedale Rescue people who cover the four SW states for the breed.

We didn't get him right away. They keep the dogs for a month to check out if there are issues. Health and temperament. We call it Airedale Camp. He had a great foster mom who watched over him and had all the stuff checked out. He was in good health, a nice personality with good habits and they declared us a match. They checked us out as well.

We went to pick him up and stayed over after going through the paper work and paying his expenses.

The photo is one of the first batch that we ever saw of this big Aire boy while he was at his "camp" in Las Vegas.

We wanted to leave early and so he was up with his caretaker, ready to hit the road at 5AM.

We had rented an SUV and had the seats down so he would be comfortable. His foster mom gave him a big bag of treats and goodies and we were off.

Booker climbed up on the console between us and stayed there for the five hour drive back to Palm Springs. He leaned first on one of us and then the other. It is hard to explain but Booker has a high odor that comes off him when he is being affectionate or excited. It is very nice. Woodsy. I remember the pervasiveness of that smell through the ride. When it arises today I remember how we bonded that day, the three of us.

People find out he is a rescue dog somehow. Usually when they ask how old he is and we do not know the answer.

They make a fuss about how good it was of us to do this "for him". They often tell us that they have a rescue dog too. There is a lot of self regard in all this. We used to go to the pound to pick up a dog. Now we are rescuing them.

Don't get me wrong. This is all fundamentally good and people should do it if they can. But one thing is very clear about our process.

We all rescued each other. We were lost without Franklin.

Sure, we would have gotten over it sooner or later. Although I must admit to have gotten teary the other day about him when we did some reminiscing. He is still in our hearts.

What Booker has done is mended us for our loss and made a new family unit.

He is not Franklin. Rather, he is emphatically Booker and in many ways a gift of his own to us.

Hard to explain this. But I don't have to.

Just say that it has been a very rich two years and we are all very happy and learning more all the time about how to be together and share the kind of love that comes with special animals.

Labels: Booker