One (1) Puppy

After moving from Japan, it was our first Christmas in our new home in Santa Cruz. My daughter Jeremi was in second grade and she wrote a letter to Santa in crayon that said she wanted a new puppy for Christmas - more than anything in this world. The holiday arrived with alarming speed, however, and there was no puppy bouncing out from under the tree that Christmas morning. But Santa had not forgotten. He had left an official letter rolled up and tied with red yarn nestled in the bows of the tree. It was addressed to my daughter and it was signed in a spectacular flourish by the Jolly Old Elf himself. He explained that she had been a very, very good girl, and so she could indeed have a puppy! But he wanted her to have the joy - and the responsibility - of choosing the pet on her own. She must also promise to love, feed, clean, walk and take good care of her choice. He included an official looking cut-out coupon at the bottom of the page, good for "One (1) Puppy".
A few weeks later, on the way home from Japanese school, I took Jeremi and her coupon to the C.A.R.E shelter in San Jose. The 'Companion Animal Rescue Effort' saved pets from neglect, abuse or abandonment and provided them to caring families for a nominal fee. We walked into a large room with caged dogs on the sides. We were met at the door and we asked for a puppy, but received a stern look from the woman in charge. She glanced down at my small child, and inquired if we had any 'smaller' children at home. Indeed, I said, two boys, one in kindergarten and a one year old. The stern face smiled briefly and then explained that puppies and babies or toddlers don't go well together. Neither one of them properly understands the boundaries of the other, and they often treat each other badly. The puppy is invariably the loser in this scenario. Besides, she said, they don't have any puppies available here at C.A.R.E.

Oh. So, I learned some things.

She offered that they did have plenty of beautiful fully grown dogs that would be more appropriate for our family anyway. Please take a look. She didn't beg. She insisted.

We wandered down the aisle, a bit dismayed but wanting to check out the goods anyway. After all we'd come this far. There was a couple of very small miniature-style dogs including a chihuahua-type with a name tag of "Charlie" that caught our eye. Hmmm, same name as my oldest son and definitely smaller than even a normal puppy, we thought. Maybe...
But we wandered on. Then we came upon what appeared to us to be a 'golden retriever puppy' with a name tag "ButterScotch". Perfect! Jeremi lit up. We were told that she was actually fully grown and was probably a mix between a golden retriever and some other "significantly smaller dog". I tried hard not to imagine the actual mixing which occurred to create this lovely dog. The stern face explained, this dog wouldn't grow any more and was actually a good size and temperament for a house with small kids. Not too big, not too rowdy, well-behaved. Jeremi could probably handle her on a leash already, they suggested. Of course, that meant BS (Butterscotch) was immediately put on a cheap plastic leash made of red twine and we were sent out to the parking lot with her "just to see how it feels". Jeremi could barely contain herself as she ran and giggled and tried to keep up. BS wagged her tail and Jeremi would have if she had one. BS was very skinny and she walked with an odd wiggle in her hind legs. They looked out of line with the rest of her body, like she needed a rear end alignment, rotation and balancing - or something. I asked if she had been hit by a car - or something? They politely told me that they couldn't tell me even if they knew - and they don't. The dogs were all cleared by a vet for general health and this dog was fine and full of energy and we'd be doing her and ourselves a tremendous favor if we took her home with us... Hmmm, I looked down at Jeremi and she was absolutely beaming! So I said, we'll take her, but what is the cost? You see, all we have is this coupon from Santa... After careful examination of said coupon for authenticity, validity, expiry and an intense discussion on the definition and applicability of the phrase 'One (1) Puppy' to this case, they accepted the coupon! Ahh, the magic of Christmas!
After a brief side discussion that resulted in me paying $125 for "One (1) Red Leash" we were on our way home. Jeremi sat in the backseat of the car buckled up with BS sitting obediently at her side. I glanced back in the rear view probably a thousand times because Jeremi's eyes were so wide and her smile so huge as she just stared in silence at HER NEW PUPPY! She was clearly ecstatic. It was an hour drive home and I swear I've never seen someone smile so hard for so long in my life.


At home we quickly agreed that 'ButterScotch' was a mouthful, BS was inappropriate, and we should give her a new name. The boys were watching a Peanuts cartoon, and so we decided on the name "Sali" with an "i" at the end, just like Jeremi. In Japanese we'd call her "Sa-chan". Then we took Sali to Derby Park and discovered she would bark defensively at any other dog she met. We also discovered that if we threw a tennis ball as far as we could onto the grassy field, she would run it down and bring it right back to us time after time after time after time...

...and time itself did go on a long walk. It is now thirteen Christmases and hundreds of slobbered tennis balls later. Time flowed with hope and cheer, easily and joyously for years. We played with Sali at the park and the beach and she always barked rudely at the other dogs. We got pet hamsters, guinea pigs, hermit crabs and an imperious cat and Sali accepted them all graciously. Then a beach tragedy cost us our Charlie, and turned Time into a grief stricken, merciless struggle. It no longer flowed, but rushed hard out of our hearts. Time trudged on painfully, desperately, hopelessly. Time would pass regardless of whether we had an unwaveringly faithful pet dog at our side, or not.

And that very same Time turned our beloved D-O-G very O-L-D.



Jeremi is now in her third year in college and has her whole life ahead of her. Sali, on the other hand, does not. Her golden fur turned white and she slowly lost her eye sight and then her hearing. She lost control of her rear left leg completely when arthritis finally shook the wiggle loose. She lost control of her bowels and finally stopped eating entirely. We called in the vet to 'do the right thing' so she wouldn't suffer any longer. We all stroked her fur while she lay on our living room floor on a beach towel with a scene of a Hawai'in sunset on it. The injection mercifully and swiftly took her from us. Another life, and love, lost on a beach.



Today is Wed. January 28, 2009. I miss you, Sal.