|Introducing Saxon Sword
Possibly the most epic dog name ever.
(Sharing from Raising a Super Dog)
My mom and I tend to roll towards similar tastes, as many mother and daughter combos do. We agree on lifestyle choices like the preference of spending a quiet afternoon with a book over a shopping trip. We both enjoy the decadence of a rich cup of coffee with a side of chocolate cake as a favorite noshing opportunity. She loves to garden and I love to look at the gorgeous landscaped creations she brings forth every summer.
And Mom and I are fully aware that even though retro styles are the thing with young folk, there’s really no way to bring sexy back to the mid-70’s fashions. We were there together once and the memories of toe socks just won’t fade.
And through my mom, this appreciation of All Things Dog is a value I come by honestly. We always had several canine companions at our home, most of them working dogs with a job on the farmstead. And as a young explorer into the wooded areas about our home, I would have a protector or two to share my adventures.
Mom and I know how dogs can be so much more than kibble eaters and couch warmers. Instead we live an ideal life of total immersion in this Human-Animal Bond thing.
Life is good, y’all. It’s better with dogs.
So I was surprised when Mom and I had a philosophical disagreement on dog rescue.
We were going through the “how’s everybody doing” roundup part of the phone call and the topic of my Favorite Kid was up next. His dog had recently passed and he was still grieving the loss. This was his first dog he adopted since he ventured out to the world as a full-grown card-carrying adult. A tough loss on a handful of levels.
Will he adopt another dog then, asks Mom.
Oh, Mom, I said. He has to get over Elsa first. Seems like the next dog would be a rebound decision to me. He needs time, don’t you think?
Every day he waits, said Mom. Is another day a dog is left homeless.
There will always be shelter dogs, I said. That’s the way it is. It sucks, but he’ll always have a choice.
It’s not about his choice, said Mom. It’s about saving a life. And he can do that now.
I see her point. I do. But my own over-protective mother hormones kicked in and I just wanted my kid to make this big decision only when he was ready. I wanted it to be right.
Let’s be honest here. I wanted it to be perfect.
(Cut me a break here, people. He’s my only kid.)
On my next phone call with the kid, I feel my feelings shift.
Ma, he said. I wanted to tell you. We’re heading down to the humane society tomorrow.
Really?, I asked. Are you sure you’re ready?
The house is too quiet, he said. It doesn’t feel right.
And then he wondersmacked me with this.
There are too many dogs waiting at the shelter, he said. We can’t save them all, but we can save one today.
And I thought he took after me.
Which he does, of course. Much of the time, anyway. But it looks like my mom’s genetics are carried onto this generation as well.
So we welcome Saxon into our dog lovin’ family. An alumni of The Kentucky Humane Society, this fella can boast of the trifecta of looks, smarts and a high count of the snuggle factor.
A great choice, my young son. And I would say the same to Saxon.
A rescue goes both ways, you know.
Well done, the lot of you.