Phil Gutis's Blog
Son of Spunky
October 18, 2007
Posted by Phil Gutis in Living Sustainably
A couple of weeks ago, the husband and I headed over to REI to spend down my member points. We had no idea that our little sojourn would change more than my wardrobe.
We'd never been to the REI closest to New Hope so we didn't know the danger that lurked nearby. When we saw the adjacent pet store, we simply thought we could eliminate an upcoming shopping trip and duck in to get supplies for the pack of six dogs and Max, the cat who thinks he is a dog.
And there he was. In the typical wall of puppies for sale, there sat a 10-week-old Jack Russell male who instantly melted my heart.
Our pack already included two Jack Russells -- Osceola Jack, a champion Frisbee player who once served as the Mighty Dog, and his amazing daughter Samantha -- so we knew all about the special characteristics of the breed. But no matter how much Tim paced and yelled and reminded me of the tales from his days raising a male Jack Russell puppy, I was not to be swayed. Ultimately I pulled out the credit card and the cutie was ours.
Only after we got home did I discover that his father's name was Spunky and I realized with more than a bit of concern that we had just purchased the son of Spunky. In the weeks since, we've learned that Spunky lives on through his son, who we named Abe.
Nothing scares this dog. He'll swagger over and steal a biscuit from a creature ten times his size. He leaps off tall tables and flies through the air. He yanks on computer cords and steals flip flops with impunity. He's already discovered that when he finds something on the ground, he needs to run for the hills. Literally. Tim was recently installing molding in our living room and saw a small white streak through a window. Seems that Abe had found a piece of scrap wood and, determined that no one take his new treasure, was on the lam. Tim says he caught up to Abe when the puppy was hundreds of yards away on top of the septic mound in our side yard.
As we walked away from that pet store, I couldn't believe that I had bought a puppy. I had always -- and absolutely -- sworn that I would never ever buy a purebred dog and certainly -- absolutely -- not from a pet store. Not with the hundreds of thousands of dogs that need rescuing. For a long time, I kept that pledge.
My first post-parental dog was named Coco and she was a lab mix and adoptee from North Shore Animal League on Long Island. Next came Tony, a black lab mix who was found by our dog walker tied to a tree in Brooklyn.
After that, Doris arrived from a neighbor's back porch in DC where she spent most of the early days of her life hiding behind a mirror leaning haphazardly against a wall. My ex caught Millie on our street in Takoma Park, Maryland, all scrawny and terrified. Then came Frances, the beautiful Spitz who used to run for miles and miles with my first marathon training group but one day ended up in the parking lot with us, seemingly unable to find her way home. Tim and the amazing Jack Russell duo arrived in my life three years ago. And then Beatrice, a sweet cattle dog mix from Florida who once wandered from home and spooked a horse that fell, broke its leg and had to be put down.
And now Abe, proving once again that nothing in this world is absolute even though the news is full of politicians and others who endlessly promise absolute fidelity to one group or another. Government leaders are not alone: non-governmental organizations do it too and that's why I surprisingly have little patience for many of them.
I'm happy to work at an organization that understands that perfection is the enemy of the very good or even the good. I've learned that when it comes to matters of the heart such as the decision to buy a little Jack Russell terror named Abe or the battle for the environment, absolutes are rarely if ever possible or productive.
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