The Lennon Story

I never had dogs growing up. My parents are cat people, so I was a cat person, and, truth be told, I still would consider myself a cat person. Cats may not have the loyalty and outright love of dogs, but their fierce independence and conditional love makes them feel more human. When cats decide they like you, you feel like you’ve really accomplished something.

My wife, Shanel, is a dog person, through and through. We have had cats for many years (we have four, currently: Dylan, Petty, Hendrix and Page) but always lived in apartments and couldn’t have a dog. When we closed the deal to buy our first house, I think Shanel was happier to be able to get a dog than she was to have a house. We set off to the humane society multiple times and met lots of dogs without finding the perfect one. I was determined to let Shanel pick out the dog she wanted, and figured that I would learn to like the dog once it was in my house. Or I would just hang out with the cats.

Then one Saturday we headed back to the Humane Society. We hadn’t even moved into our house yet, so we were still just looking at dogs and playing with them and not really looking to adopt that day. We headed into the puppy/small dog room. That’s where we first met Lennon.

Only then, his name was Ralphie. At around 20 pounds, he looked like some sort of terrier – to this day we’re not totally sure, but we tell people he’s a Corgi-Jack Russell mix, and that seems right. And he wasn’t much to look at. He was huddled in the back of his cage, looking alternately petrified and sleepy. His eyes kept blinking, nearly closing, then popping back open again, like he was in a boring lecture. He had white fur with some light brown spots, but what stood out were his various deformities: the massive underbite, with his two bottom canines jutting up along with his smaller front teeth, giving the impression that he was baring his teeth; his crooked Yoda ears, one always drooping at half-mast; his bow legs, which made the shape of a heart when he lay propped up on his stomach.

I admit it: at first it was pity. Ralphie looked so tired and so sad in his cage that I really wanted to make him feel better. I had no thoughts of taking him home, no thoughts beyond comforting him and his sad little face.

We tried to get him to come to the front of the cage, but he wasn’t having any of it. We said hello to the other dogs in the room, wandered through the big dog cages, then came back. Tried to coax him up to the front of the cage. He was a little more open this time, still guarded, but he let us introduce ourselves. He was much happier around Shanel than around me.

Rick, one of the Humane Society’s trainers, came through at that point, and asked us if we wanted to take Ralphie to one of the larger rooms to see how he did with no other dogs around. Shanel wasn’t so sure – I don’t think this dog was what she had in mind. But somehow he had burrowed his way into my heart, so I wanted to at least give him a chance.

First, the three of us went in to the room together and did pretty well. Ralphie started to let his guard down a bit, but still clung to Shanel. Rick told us that Ralphie was a recent transfer from a different humane society and they didn’t know much about his history. They surmised that he had been abused, likely by a male, and as such was much more comfortable with women. Ralphie and Shanel were quickly bonding, but Rick didn’t want to send him home with us if he didn’t get along with me.

So it was me and Ralphie in the room together by ourselves. My lone dog experience to that point in my life was occasionally hanging out with my grandparents’ Scottie when I was little, and generally trying to avoid dogs at my friends’ houses. I really didn’t know what to do, so I let Ralphie dictate. He wandered around the room, looking nervous but happier. He would come by to sniff and get scratched every once in a while, then go off and do his own thing; it was very cat-like. I loved that he didn’t bark or whine, didn’t stick his nose in my crotch or try to jump on me… he just seemed happy to be in there, the Lone Dog.

Having passed that test, we took Ralphie outside. He let me leash him up (my first time leashing a dog) and we wandered out to one of the enclosed pens. First we walked him around on the leash, then we let him run free. Sometimes he came when he was called (we had treats for him, after all) and sometimes he didn’t, but he was thrilled to be outside and seemed to hold us in high regard as the people who had gotten him outside.

After we took him back inside, we decided to put a hold on him and come back the next day, at which point we would decide if he was the dog for us. Despite his warming up to us, he was still shy and somewhat withdrawn. Would he ever be a happy dog with us? We could offer him food, shelter and comfort, and lots of love, but maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

We thought and worried and debated the rest of Saturday and into Sunday. I think when we showed up at the Humane Society, we were leaning toward not adopting him. After all, Shanel wanted an easy dog for my first dog, someone who would make me like dogs. Ralphie didn’t seem to be that dog.

We got to the Humane Society early, and went back to the small dog room. And the most incredible thing happened. Ralphie raced to the front of the pen to greet us! Even after walking him the day before, he hadn’t shown much affection; this was an all-out, tail-wagging greeting. We had no choice at that point – Ralphie was coming home with us.

Once he got to our car, we told him his new name – Lennon (or Lenny, for short). He loved riding in the car, which was a great first sign. After he spent a couple weeks living with Shanel’s family, we moved in to our new house, and Lenny moved in too. He took to it immediately, remembered and adored us, and quickly transformed from shelter dog to pampered family dog. He loves going for walks, going to the dog park and riding in the car, but his favorite place is the beach.

I still wouldn’t say I’m a dog person, but I am a Lennon person.