I tried talking him out of it; or at least revising it down to something more manageable. Oregon in the winter is terrible for housebreaking a puppy. How about waiting until spring? GSDs shed. Let's look up low-shedders .... What about a Corgi? We aren't the type of family to be out climbing mountains or embarking on daring wilderness rescue missions. What would a German Shepherd want with us?
It's a good thing he didn't ask for a pony. Because Christmas came and we delivered. GSD it is.
We had visited her at six weeks old in her cozy whelping box at a farm in Turner, Oregon. She snuggled with her seven litter mates and toddled around when mama dog neared the pen. She was reserved; more likely to sit back and watch her more intrepid siblings get into trouble. Fat, round, and bright eyed, she stole our hearts. About three weeks later we picked up the small black fuzz ball and brought her home.
We named her Luna. But she looks like a black bear cub. Luna Bear.
She's Son's dog, but like everything else at Casa Peace Love and Bossy, she belongs to all of us. It takes three nimble adults to guide a puppy into civilized human house living. We have changed our sleeping arrangements, schedules, shopping lists, leisure activities, waking and sleeping hours, and research. Everything revolves around the new baby. In the month she's been with us, we have all grown and learned. A lot.
Luna has served as a darling, demanding, determined antidote to my sedentary lifestyle of yore. Right from the start, I have had to get down on the floor on her level. To bend, reach, lift, walk, run and clean, clean, clean. My sit time has been reduced drastically. When I do sit, it is to read a few more pages of the dog training books. This feature of puppy ownership may be the most valuable gift, adding years to my life and health to my years. She's a good girl!
This morning I took Luna out onto the back deck, slick with frost. As we stepped outside, I heard the flutter of wings overhead. I followed the trail of sound and saw a small owl alight on the bone-colored tangle of winter branches. His fat silhouette in the thicket stood out against the pearly morning sky. It was the first time I have ever seen him.
I have heard him for years. His gentle hoot has serenaded many a summer evening. He perched in his high aerie and surveyed the winter domain. Then he took flight and disappeared in the northern sky.
I caught sight of the owl whose watchful eye and soft chant have woven through so many twilights. A gift of the dawn.
