Barney’s Sandspurs

My new clients were elderly, well past working years.  I asked them if the volunteered in the community.  That question seemed to perk up both.
“We both volunteer at Eglin Pet Welfare.  It is a no-kill shelter,” the wife told me.

“I’ve been in this city for thirty-four years and did not know Eglin Air Force Base had an animal shelter.”

The clients left and I ran upstairs to my computer and Google.  With just a few keystrokes and a visit to Google Earth I knew exactly where the shelter was and how to get there.

I had mourned the death of my dog, Rocky, for weeks and nothing could fill the void in my heart except another dog.

That afternoon I went to the shelter and told the lady there about Rocky’s death and asked to see the animals available for adoption.  She took me to one long kennel building.  These dogs loved humans and excitement was in the air.  It was almost as if the loud barking was asking, “Who’s leaving today?”

All the dogs were much too big, shepherds, labs, retrievers, all much bigger than we wanted.  I thanked the lady and was about to leave when she said, “We have three more in pens in the back of the office.  We went back in and thru three doors into the pen area.  I looked at the tag on the first pen.  It read Stitch, male, Rat Terrier and Jack Russell mix.  Stitch walked over and struck his nose through the chain link.  I presented him with the back of my hand to sniff. The other two were a cocker spaniel and a lhasa apso.

Once again, I told the lady there that I would go home and bring my wife back to look around.

I went home told my wife about the shelter.  “Don’t you think it’s too soon after Rocky?  You need to wait a few months.

Two days later I was back at the shelter.  “Could I visit the small dogs again, please?”  I walked into the hall with the chain link pens.  Stitch was still there.  He looked up and came over to the chain link wall of his pen and stuck his nose through.  I let him sniff the back of my hand.  Stitch was snow white with black spots on his ears and a coal black ring around his tail.

On my third trip there I took my six-year old grandson with me.  Lincoln sat on the floor and rubbed Stitch’s nose.  As we droved home, Lincoln said, “You need to get him Pop-Pop.  I’ll tell Mimi it’s alright.”

On my fourth trip to the shelter, I took my wife.  She met Stitch.  “I don’t know, honey.  He’s awfully big.”  We had never had a dog over five pounds and Stitch weighed in at twenty-three.

The lady in charge insisted that we bring our long haired chihuahua there to see if the two got along.

On my fifth visit, my wife and grandson went with me.  We brought Piper, the chihuahua.  They were put into a small fenced area.  Five minutes without fighting and Stitch made it past the first hurdle.  Then I was asked to put a leash on him and walk up and down the street.

Ten minutes later we learned that we were acceptable people to adopt this dog.  I paid a small fee and put Stitch in the back seat with Lincoln.  We thought he needed a different name.  From the back seat, Lincoln piped up, “I think his name should be X-O, not the hugs and kisses kind, just X-O.  Fifteen minutes later and we agreed that Barney was his new name.

Stitch had been owned by a homeless veteran.  When the previous owner fell ill and became too sick to care for him, the man gave him to Pet Welfare to try to find a new home.

Barney took to us like a fish takes to water.  Being part Jack Russell means he is very high energy.  I walked him every day, sometimes twice a day.  We played catch in my back yard.

Our daily walks are down a long sidewalk.  Some lawns are well-manicured and some are not.  I live in Florida, a state not only known for beaches and sun, but also for sand spurs.  Make the mistake of getting one of these stuck in your foot and you are not traveling far.

Barney occasionally gets off the sidewalk to sniff or mark his territory.  Sometimes he gets a sandspur in his paw and stands perfectly still, holding one paw up in the air and cocking his head to plead with me.  “What’s wrong, buddy, got a sticker?  I rub my fingers under his paw, ouch, there it is.  I pull it out and we go on, happily trotting on four paws.  This has happened dozens of times.  Barney’s response is always the same.  Be still and wait for a loved one to help.

That is Barney’s lesson to me, to you, to all people.  There are so many sandspurs along life’s journey.  They may be job loss, loss of a loved one, personal tragedy, betrayal, all kinds of our very own sandspurs.

We need to do exactly as Barney taught me.  Stop.  Look for a trusted loved one to help, trusting that the loved one can and will.

Thanks, Barney.  I am glad I found you.  Or, did you find me?