We were in Vancouver, staying with Damian and Steph. I was desperate to find a dog. I'd been searching the SPCA sites looking for that perfect mutt... but they're weren't any. I turned to the classifieds, fell in love with the idea of a basset hound. Long ears check. They looked dopey and slow, droopy eyes, probably couldn't walk far. I was definitely searching for low energy. I found a few puppies left from a recent litter... Sure, I thought, drive out to the trailer park in Surrey, it's just near the border - that'll fit into our day of medical apppointments just fine. It was out of the question. I actually cried in frustration patially because medical appointments again ruled our life and partially because no one seemed to understand that I really did love the idea of a basset. He can't jump, he can't swim, he can't get in and out of cars... and they showed me videos to prove it. hmmm... maybe they were right, but in the moment I didn't like them very much for it.
Time for the back-up plan. Maybe a golden retriever? And so, I found one that very day, in Nanaimo nonetheless. The last of the litter, unclaimed by the family that thought they would take him home. I emailed and the they told me another family was taking him. I could call after 6:00 to make sure he was gone. I hate the phone, but I called anyway. "They decided to go to Disneyland instead" she said. What's wrong with this dog I thought. "Oh, um... we were on our way back to Nanaimo, on the ferry.... Can we come and see him?" I asked. "We really are interested." I'd only seen one picture, the little guy looked like a ball of fluff. In the picture he was trying to break into a milk bones canister. He's not going to be trouble at all. "We can go stright from the ferry be there at 8?" She asked if we wanted to go home instead... "taking a ferry makes for a long day". She's right. David looked tired. Making a dog decision after a long day probably wasn't a good idea. It killed me but I agreed on 6:00 the next day. I was skeptical. What if someone took him? I confirmed by email. 'We are really interested', I repeated. I pretty much stared at the picture all day, looked for other puppies in the area. There weren't any. This was going to be our chance. I tried to be nonchalant with David. "We're just going to look" (yeah right). "We won't make a decision tonight." "We're not going to take him if the environment is not clean or if we get a bad feeling." 
We arrived. right on time. There were kids playing outside. The house and yard were clean. She had a golden retreiver statue on the landing outside the door. She appeared to like dogs. Seemed like a good start. We were led through a series of halls in the basement to the downstairs kitchen, and three bouncy wiggling puppies were released. All rolling around and playful and cute as anything I had ever seen before. "Which one?" I ask. "The big one is the only one left. It's a male." I tried hard to think of additional intelligent questions to ask. But I had nothing. I might have asked about the parents, about food, about exercise but the answers may have well have been in greek - I wasn't listening. My eyes darted between the puppy and David. I wanted to know what David thought. I caught his eye... "Do you want him?" "Yeah, do you?" "Yeah." No decisions (yeah right). He was going to be ours. It may have been the best moment of the year, maybe my life... We rushed to the nearest bank machine and were back within minutes. Trade. Money for puppy. As I carried him out of the house I wondered where to put him in the truck. Behind the seat? in the back? My lap seemed as good a place as any. The tiny bundle of fur settling in, making himself comfortable, as we barreled down the road towards home. I was in love. "What should we call him?" I asked. The response. "Leuk." There was no debate, no other option presented. Leuk it was. Bringer of light, we've needed you.
Of course the intial excitement wore off pretty quickly as the reality set in. This little dude was a lot of work, he ate everything (still does) wasn't house trained, chased the cat (still does), ate the drywall, our shoes and bit everything with his sharp little dagger teeth. For weeks I was setting my alarm for every two hours to get up with him in the night. Funny though, it was cool and crisp and the sky was clear for those two weeks. Unusual for December. I secretly loved those moments standing outside looking at the stars watching the moon creep across the sky in two hour lime laspe. I had him housebroken, all but a few accidents, in about two weeks. I only stepped in shit on the floor in the bedroom once. I learned my lesson. Puppy whines. Let him out, don't roll over and bury your head in the pillow. We made it through his baby teeth with the furniture intact, and the little mutt became our constant companion. We quickly slipped into a comfortable routine, I'd leave for work in the morning, the cat and dog siezing the opportunity to occupy my spot in the bed. The three of them dozing the morning away, getting up slowly, drinking coffee and playing on the computer, an occasional excusion, a car ride to the store. Our happy little family.
