The Story of Clancy

I have just come in after letting the dogs out on a glorious, sunny, dew drenched morning. My hands were chilly after handing out the obligatory morning treats, so I buried my hands in the warm fur of our big, shaggy Aussie mix, Clancy, his beautiful golden eyes gazing happily into mine as I gave him a good rub. It's hard to believe it's been 10 years since I first looked into his soulful eyes, then the hazelgreen of an adorable puppy who looked more like a bear cub than the offspring of a dog. These days, grey hairs around the muzzle and arthritis are setting in and the bouncy, kind little furball has become a little stiff, not to mention big, but he is still the same infinitely kind and patient dog that I first met in May of 2003.

It was a meeting that would question my sanity and confirm my intuition.

Many moons ago, on a Monday, no less, I was looking for a new dog. I went to the shelter and took a good look around. This, of course, is always pure hell, the kennels like prison cells on death row, the pleading brown eyes, the wagging tails, the jumping puppies, the chorus of barks pleading to be chosen. After several rounds, I was at a loss. I wanted to rescue them all, but none in particular spoke to me. I went around one more time. Out of thin air, a new dog had materialized in cell #16. Odd, I never saw him on the first two rounds. A darling puppy, shaggy red fur of an Australian Shepherd with exquisite, calm green eyes. All the more impressive since the two dalmatian cross puppies I had noticed in #16 before, were jumping on his head as he lay quietly, head on his paws, nose to the gate and watching my every move. I was sold.

Rushing to the front desk, I breathlessly asked about the Aussie mix in #16. The indifference of the desk clerk all but left him mute, but he managed to look at his computer and inform me there was no Aussie mix puppy in #16. There is, I insisted. There is not, he/the computer said. Just a pair of Dalmatian mix pups. But if there were........he'd be released for adoption on Thursday, just like the Dalmatians.

Now, I was supposed to wait for my husband who was out of town and arriving on Saturday. Could I wait to pick him up till then, I asked. The desk clerk looked at me blankly and said "If he's not gone by Thursday, he's dead by Friday."

I went home in a dither. I convinced myself he was so gorgeous and darling and cute, someone would take him home. Someone indeed.

Thursday rolled around. It was pouring rain, thunder and lightning, my husband was adamant I wait for him to help choose a dog and he was two days away. I paced the floor. All my bells were going off, alerting me that action must be taken. I called the shelter - has the Aussie mix in #16 been adopted? What Aussie mix in #16? No such dog. If there was, he must have been picked up. Phew, I thought, he is safe.

I drove to the shelter.

This is nuts, I thought, as I drove the 40 minute drive through a deluge of rain and hail, thunder and lightning, booming and crackling all around. I am going to get there and he will be gone and I will feel even more like an idiot. Still, I drove on slowly, windshield wipers at top speed as I peered through the windshield at the crawling traffic.

The same desk clerk informed me there was no such dog that I had come to see, but allowed I could take a look. An employee accompanied me with a leash. I was convinced he'd be gone but lo and behold - there was my puppy, right where I had left him. As soon as I stepped through the door he sat up and starting wagging with every bone in his body, his eyes fastened on mine. Oh how cute, said the woman, funny, I never noticed him before. Really? said I and grabbed that leash and rushed to the office with my dog before she could start asking questions.

The clerk never even looked over the counter. Here he is! I said brightly. Well, he's not in my computer, said he sourly. Oh how odd, I said brightly, smiling widely, feeling like I was in the Twilight Zone. If he's not in my computer, I can't tell you if he is released or not, said he even more sourly. Oh dear, I said brightly, but they told me he was free to go today. I had looked down into my puppy's hazelgreen eyes and known instantly to use the ubiquitous 'they' that covers for a multitude of possible sinners, rather than point out that he, the desk clerk himself, had told me that. Whatever, said the desk clerk and printed out the release forms for me to sign.

Just then, a woman on my left said "Oh good, are you taking him home? He is such a great dog." Yes, I said happily and was about to ask her who she was. But the clerk stuck a pen in my hand, and when I looked again, she was gone. As if she was never even there. Twilight Zone reboot.

I drove home with a perfect little puppy watching me intently from eyes that shone with an intelligence and kindness beyond his few months, a puppy that would grow into a handsome and independant dog that has freely roamed the farmland surrounding our home over the past decade.

Still, one thing hasn't changed - it's funny how he always shows up right when he is needed, that wonderful wise and infinitely kind expression in his eyes as he presses his head into my hand.