CHARLIE

Meet Charlie. He's the dog I told my family we would never have. And I managed to stand my ground until this past Thanksgiving and then all you-know-what broke loose. My dad is at fault for all of this, because we were at his house for Thanksgiving and he just had to watch the championship dog show on tv. Chris was sitting there, taking way too much interest in the "sport dog" division,and was, the very next day, searching for dogs online. I was trying to convince him that we needed to put the Christmas lights on the house when he told me he was "driving to Montana to look at a dog." I immediately got nervous. A real dog? One that barks and slobbers? I laid it down, one final time: no barking, no drooling, no jumping, no pooping, no shedding,and the dog can't be in the house. Ever. He agreed and I was certain there was no dog on earth that would meet the criteria. We all piled into the suburban-he most certainly needed a chaparone- and off we were to Montana. We arrived in a little town after dark and it was a pleasant -10 below zero. We pulled up to the kennels, which were outside, and used our headlights to look at the dogs as they were brought to us. Soon "Max" made his way out, a quiet Labradinger (Black Lab and Springer Spaniel) that had been abused and left on the doorstep of the rescue shelter. I tried to be social and pet the little bugger as he stood at my feet. When I stopped petting him, he wouldn't stop staring at me. Soon his black fluffy paw was on my leg and when his big brown eyes met mine, it was all over. I was weak and cold and I fell for his game. As a kid, I always wanted a big black dog and those memories erased all common sense.
I looked at Chris and told him that I thought Max was pretty nice and he agreed. I double checked with the owner on the return policy, she stated that there was a 100% guarantee, and soon we were telling the kids that Max was coming home with us. They were in total shock. Big smiles, but total shock. Once on the road, we decided that Max needed a new name. The kids have a friend named Max and my mom's dog is Max so we needed something new. We decided on Charlie, as in St. Charles Street, since that is the street we live on. Charlie was scared to death all the way home and he even bolted on us when we stopped for gas. I thought for sure he was gone...a black dog blends well with the black night and he was really moving out. But Chris took off running after him and soon the two of them returned to the car, which stunk like dog. I thought I was going to die. What had I done? I knew we'd be back in Montana by the end of the week.
It took Charlie a couple of weeks to recover from his chronic ear infections and to get happy, but he quickly figured out that he was safe with us and that we were all in love with him. Believe it or not, I have yet to see him drool, poop,jump or shed. He is quiet and loving and so patient with the kids, especially Ben. Not a morning goes by that Ben doesn't wake up, come find me, and then go find "Arlie" for his morning kiss and neck squeeze. Charlie is the only one in the family that gets to touch Ben's special blue blanket and I don't think Charlie would allow anyone else except Ben to maul him and ride on his back. He's only barked twice since we got him, and both times he was in the backyard with Ben when Chris tried to get through the gate. Charlie was on guard immediately, growling and snarling in defense of his little buddy
The two of us walk together in the evenings, which I love, and Chris is trying to make a hunting dog out of him. Charlie doesn't, however, care for birds or like to run very much so Chris has his hands full... So with Charlie's 90 day probationary period coming to an end in a week or so, I can happily say that he isn't going anywhere. We love him like crazy and he's a part of our family. So much a part of our family that he stays inside and the dog house out back has been made into a fort...