Day 207

That's how far we've come since Marge entered our home for the first time.

Two-hundred and seven days. Days filled with both good and bad; filled with "why did you get a dog?" and "you do such great work with her, keep up the training."

Days filled with wallets emptied on treats and toys, four hour trips to the dog park, and the cramming of a 40 pound black lab mix into my lap.

I wouldn't change any of it.

I don't know where to start with this blog. Every minute is something new. When you're dealing with a dog still largely unfamiliar with what it's like to live in the city, I'd guess that's very often the case.

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I know only bits of pieces of the life that Marge had before she came to me, just around her first birthday. She grew up in shelters and rescues, I could tell you that much. Her puppyhood in the mountains of rural Georgia certainly didn't do much to assure Marge that people were good.

Then despite the fact that her life was probably turmoilous enough, she was trucked up here with 5 other siblings to find homes in the North.

Then, sometime around June 24th, I went to my current place of employment - which happened to be a no-kill animal shelter - to find nine Georgia dogs peering out from cages.

Mixes of all kinds - lab, pointer, shepherd, shiba inu. Yet, for some reason when I went to grab a leash to help out with the morning walk I was drawn to her cage.

I didn't even really greet her. Just a hey there, let's go outside. Slipped the chain on, no chance for hesitation.

And hesitate she did not. Out of the hundreds of dogs I had walked during my time there, it was safe to say that Marge was one of the easiest. She did not leave my side.

In a sea of black lab adolescents, she stood out to me. Why? I don't know. They were all the same at that point. Timid little Lab mixes from Georgia.

I tested her with cats. I knew she was good with other dogs. She wasn't food aggressive. I sat with her outside of her cage on a slip lead and just scratched her back for a while.

Went home, a couple of days later and I asked my mother if she wanted to see the lab puppies. I need not say anything else except for that the following day I had a dog on a test run in my house. It was Layla's turn to approve. And I guess she felt like pleasing me that day... the basement that had been solely her kitty castle was now open to a dog without much fuss.

The father/dog relationship didn't get off to a quick start, but that'll be brought up more than enough times throughout the course of this blog.

And the next day she climbed back into the old Oldsmobile and left the shelter life behind for good.

So, yep. That's how it goes. That's how this whole thing started, 207 days ago.