Searching for Another Peachie the Labrador Retriever

Life runs in cycles. Recently, we find ourselves scanning the animal rescue websites, partly  because we miss our late and beloved Peachie, but also because we are very tentatively contemplating an adoption. There is not much that is rational about wanting a dog again. Can we afford a dog?  And, who wants to start over with a puppy, what with kennel and potty training, a house littered with squeaky toys, the infernal whimpering sound they make when the lights are turned out, telling you they are afraid and want to get in bed with you. At our age, acquiring a puppy would be like having a baby shower in lieu of a retirement reception.  At least a puppy is a heck of lot more fun than a plaque with your name on it.

We scroll the websites of animal rescues. Maybe an “older dog”? One inactive enough to compensate for our anticipated decrepitude. We look at pictures and listings by the animal shelters. All those greying faces and the sad narratives about their history of abandonment and abuse by careless owners. “Health concerns” could mean costly stays at the veterinary hospital, or in the case of our Peachie, it might mean thousands of dollars for surgery to correct what the breeder cautioned  you about in the fine print in your delivery agreement.

“Not recommended for a household with small children” and “best in a household without other pets” are comments in some dogs’ descriptions. Perhaps it would have been more forthcoming to say  “former owner still in surgery:” or “this German Shepherd only eats very small children.”

Breed identification in shelter listings can be misleading and after studying about four thousand photographs of dogs up for adoption, I see a trend. “Mixed- breed Labrador Retriever” and “mixed breed Chihuahua” photos often look alike. And apparently 80% of the dogs seem to be Pit Bull mixes. Those beady eyes, that strong jaw, those muscular chests and bulging shoulders all suggest a similar ancestry, and a likely reluctance to be restrained by leashes or small chains.  Of course, Pit Bulls and their look-alike cousins such as Bull Mastiffs, etc., can be sweet and tender companions. I do not doubt that. But I am not ready to adopt a “mix” that looks strong enough to take on the Hound of the Baskervilles.

Call me “timid,” say I am compensating for my own “persistent childhood sense of inferiority” or “lacking in self-confidence.” I want a beautiful dog. One that kids rush up to in the park, unafraid. One that young lovers uncouple momentarily to pet, expressing the hope that they might one day be lucky enough to have such an animal. One I could parade through the aisles of the big-box home supply store, where admiring shoppers would swoon over her and ask what breed she is.

Then there are the ads placed by professional breeders. Dog breeders have now gotten into the “mixed breed” business for profit. Such inconvenient mismatches used to be given away. Not anymore! “Labra-doodles”, “Cock-a-poos” and hundreds of supposedly intentional cross breeds are for sale everywhere. Such dogs could once be had for a song because they were accidents that breeders wanted to get rid of on the cheap, often skipping the vet’s exam and sometimes just dropping them off before dawn at any friend’s house known to be sympathetic to stray dogs.

Not so now days. Labradoodles and hundreds of previously unimagined mixes are for sale for thousands of dollars. I once paid $50 for a cock-a-poo mix. It was a wonderful dog. But, I am not prepared to pay someone thousands for a dog that cannot reproduce puppies that look like their parents.  Most dog breeding for the past century has been based on the hope of specific outcomes in temperament, confirmation and performance. To be clear, this means they are trying to produce healthy exemplars of their breed, predictable in behaviors, easy to train toward a purpose or displaying the right size and stature to be shown in competition.

It should surprise no one that the most predictably calm and gentle of the breeds is said to be the Labrador Retriever, the most popular breed in America. My Jack Russell was a demon at chasing small game (i.e. mice and chipmunks). My German Shorthair Retriever was certainly predictably gentle and a great companion. And she needed little instruction before discovering how to point birds hiding in the tall grass.  

I like a dog that is comfortably big. Not so big I cannot pick it up in a pinch (our Peachie weighed 71 pounds), but big enough to offer some cushion and comfort on the sofa.  Big enough to assume a kind of human presence around the house.  But not overly protective.  Peachie was not a home guardian. She never met a stranger, not even the UPS delivery guy. And …DIGNIFIED. That is the word I have been struggling to find. Peachie looked dignified. Even when she was chasing squirrels or relieving herself, she had a certain self -possessed style about her. She could strike a classic pose effortlessly. Maybe it was baked into her DNA. Maybe it was all in the eye of the admirer.

 After her puppyhood was over, no adult or child-ever referred to Peachie as “cute.” (No lady appreciates being called “cute”, or so ladies have explained to me.) “Beautiful” and “calm” were the adjectives repeated by the friends she made. Toward the end she exhibited a soulful acceptance of her decline, never seeming to complain, always grateful to be carried outside or to the car for a ride, always comforted by our attentions and care. If our feelings are only products of our own imaginations, well, that is okay, too. If we found our better selves because we loved a dog, all the better. We likely will get another Lab if the price is right or if the right one happens to show up on shelter profiles. Maybe we will adopt. Maybe an older lady Lab would be best. True Labs seldom seem to show up on the adoption sites. You can see why. Who could bear to willingly surrender their Lab?