Time Flies

Four years! This week marks four whole years since Missy waltzed into my life and decided to make herself the centre of it. I had a look through my previous adoptiversary post, and even on the very first post of the blog, and realised that I have never actually relayed the story of how Missy chose us.

The hubby grew up with greyhounds and lurchers and, whilst I have a soft spot to mongrels owing to the little mutt that was my childhood pet, I liked the idea of getting a dog and knowing what I was going to get. There are several rescue greyhound centres about the place, so we decided that the time was right and we'd go window shopping at some dogs and see if there was anyone who would fit into our lives perfectly. Of course, I over analyse everything, so by this point I had put more thought into this greyhound that I was going to own than most people do about having children - I'd scoped out dog walkers, I'd decided on what would be the best local walk and the nearest nice bigger walks, I had a short list of names and had exactly where I wanted the bed and the bowl to go.

So we looked at the greyhounds, had a very nice chat with the people running the place and they effectively matched us to the dogs. We took a lovely black pair on a walk and said we wanted to think about it before committing, but I didn't get that feeling of window shopping. I remember vividly the day my sister and I walked through the kennels staring at all the puppies before we were struck the need to have just that one there, the wee one with the diamond...

And I never got that feeling. The hubby too, I could tell something was up and relayed my thoughts. I was surprised at his response.

He wanted to go get a real rescue. Something from a pound. Did we have one of those? He too recalled walking through kennels and looking at all the sorry dogs wanting homes, but rather than that element of finding the right one on sight that I had longed for, he wanted to find the right dog he wanted to rescue.

So to the Edinburgh Dog and Cat home we went. I laid down ground rules on route, knowing my hubby is a complete sap and would pick the most flea bitten thing he could - no projects, I understand whatever we pick will have issues, but no long term projects, we did not have the time to train an aggressive or mentally upset dog, we needed one we could trust near children and other animals.

And so we walked through the kennels. First the boys and then the girls. There was dozens of excited little faces and wagging tails. The noise was terrific and then, in all the chaos, sitting peacefully on her own and just watching us calmly, was 515. Fresh off the streets and not yet named.

She's friendly. We were assured. The rottie that shrunk in the wash was the joke. I was smitten already and didn't want to get too close - I hadn't thought until just then that we might take to different dogs. The hubby popped his hands through the bars and the little stray looked at him before hopping onto her back feet and gently putting her paw into his hand.

Yes, you two will do, was written plain as day across those little brown eyes.

I think it's safe to say that none of us have looked back since!