Monday is Martin Luther King’s Birthday. It’s also special for another reason: It’s the day we brought home our rescue dog, Rafferty.
Two years ago, I told my husband I wanted another dog to keep our prissy Miss Victoria company. Of course, David said, “No,” and later relented. “But it has to be a Bichon,” he said. “I don’t want fur all over the house.”
My son and I checked out the local humane society. There we saw a three-legged dog. “A three-legged dog would be soooo pimping,” said Mike. But that particular three-legged dog did not play well with others, so he wasn’t an option. “Think about it, Mom,” said Mike. “Who wants a three-legged dog? Nobody. So we have to give a three-legged dog a home.”
Okay, our new family member had to be a Bichon, had to have three-legs, and he had to be young. We’d just lost our dear pet of 15 years. We couldn’t go through that again.
My husband smirked. I’m sure he was thinking, “Right. Good luck finding a three-legged, young, Bichon.”
But I had the power of the Internet at my disposal. I discovered Small Paws, an animal rescue agency. They had 119 dogs who needed homes. All of them were at least part-Bichon. Many were full-blooded. And there he was…Rafferty.
So that’s how Raffi came to live with us. In the weeks that followed between finding him on the list and having our application approved, I worried that someone else would take him. But I needn’t have been concerned.
“You’re the only one who asked about him. He’d been on the list for months,” said the volunteer.
I wondered why.
“Most people who want Bichons, want them to show off. Because they’re pretty. I guess a three-legged dog doesn’t fit their definition of pretty,” said the volunteer.
Well, here’s what I think. Those people are just plain STUPID. Rafferty is beautiful. And I love him. He’s a wonderful, wonderful guy.