Boy, it’s been awhile since we’ve blogged – lots of reasons, mostly excuses, we’ll blog about ’em later. But today is an important Anniversary – today is Oliver’s “Gotcha” Day, the day he came to be a Buck-White Boy for good!
When we first met Oliver we were volunteering as a foster family for labs that needed homes. We actually got to meet Oliver, who was called Dawson then, when his former family reached out and said they wanted to surrender him. Mike did the home visit to check him out and it was pretty much love at first sight – he talked about Dawson nonstop. When he was finally surrendered, we immediately volunteered to foster him.
Compared to some of the other fosters, Dawson’s home wasn’t terrible. He was with a family that had 2 or maybe 3 kids under the age of 5 and another one on the way. There was also a Yorkie who was clearly the favorite dog. And dad didn’t like Dawson too much. When Mike first got there, Dawson had been locked in a room all day and was apparently tearing the house apart running around like a crazy man. He also had a terrible, terrible ear infection in both ears — which we’d consider neglect, so, yeah his first home wasn’t terrible. But it wasn’t great.
As best we can tell, he was purchased from a (fairly) reputable breeder as a puppy and that age-old story of “They’re cute when they’re puppies but then they grow up” applied. He’d been trained – housebroken, sit, etc. – but a lab doesn’t mature until at least three years of age and until then they need a lot of attention, stimulation, exercise and Dawson wasn’t getting any of that. His mom drove him to the vet where Mike picked him up. Can you imagine that drive? Or what must have been going through the poor dog’s head?
Dawson lived with us for just a few days before we decided that he was home. You can read about our pro/con chart on our previous blog post.
A new life needed a new name and since he’s a lab of the English variety, we wanted something that sounded British and he was essentially an orphan, so Oliver just stuck. He doesn’t even remember the name Dawson now – you can call him 100 times and he either doesn’t hear it or ignores it. Smart guy.
Oliver got to stay because he just exudes joy. He’s bouncy and he counter surfs and he’s still terrible on the leash and he gets overly excited when he sees other dogs, but his capacity for love is as large as the Nevada desert. He gives wonderful hugs and is never so happy as when he’s curled up on you being petted snoring his head off. Or chasing a ball. Or eating. Or beating up on Barclay.
And every day he reminds all of us to be a little bouncy, to be full of joy, to laugh at silly things.
And we’re not sure who got whom, but we’re glad he got us. Happy first Gotcha Day, Oliver.