So, you’ve decided to bring a new dog into your home. That’s great!
What isn’t great are the expectations we sometimes carry into the adoption process: expectations based on the last dog we had, or the “best” dog in our memory, or the wonderful dog that someone told us about.
I know this all too well: once my grief diminished after losing Casey, I went back to where I’d adopted him to look at a dog that my adoption counselor suggested. She brought him out, and the first thing I thought was, “But I wanted a GOLD Golden Retriever.” This one was white. He seemed very sweet, and was adorable, but I resisted. I was carrying around the memory of Casey, and wanted another dog “just like him.”
What I got was Joey, a dog that was every bit as wonderful as Casey, but wonderful in his own way. And what an unexpected gift he was, for every minute of the eight years he
was with me! Had I waited for a gold golden — supposedly one “just like Casey” — I’d have missed out on one of the most joyful experiences of my life with Joey.
Intellectually, we all know that we’ll never find a dog “just like” the one we loved and lost, but the temptation is strong. However, listen to what Kathy Callahan, a professional certified dog trainer says: “Generally, we savor our sweetest memories of our dear departed dogs and remember them at their very finest hour. That’s mostly a lovely thing, but it’s ever-so damaging to the dogs who come next. Do yourself and your new pup a favor: Try to avoid comparisons. But if you can’t do that, be sure to take off the rose-colored glasses. They are blocking you from seeing the fresh new possibilities in front of you.”
Sometimes, it’s not a real dog but an imaginary one on which we base our expectations. You loved watching “Lassie” when you were a kid, so you decide to find a collie. Your neighbor or friend or work colleague has a delightful Labrador or Siberian husky or cocker spaniel, and so you look for a dog just like that one. Except that never happens, not even in the movies. Just like people are individuals, dogs are as well. Their needs and wants, temperaments, quirks and habits, are different from one another, even if they’re the same breed.
Sometimes our expectations revolve around how we want the new dog to act.
Immediately. And that doesn’t happen either, again not even in the movies. If you’re adopting a puppy, you can’t expect her to magically know how to tell you when she needs a bathroom break. Or how to be calm around your 80-year-old grandmother. If you’re adopting an older dog from a shelter or rescue organization, you shouldn’t assume he’ll automatically be perfectly trained, well-mannered, walk easily on a leash, and be ready to snuggle with you on the couch.
That may be the image you have in mind, but it’s not reality. You can’t “replace” a dog from your past or from your imagination, any more than you can “replace” a best friend who moved away or died. Hopefully, one day you’ll have a new best friend — but it will be just that: new. You can’t expect them to be an identical carbon-copy of your previous friend, because that doesn’t happen — but you know the rest.
You’ll never forget the dog you loved and lost, but once you’ve adopted your new dog, just remember the old Crosby, Stills and Nash lyrics and love the one you’re with.
Joan Merriam lives in Northern California with her Maine coon cat Indy, the infinite spirit of her beloved golden retriever Joey, and the abiding presence of her dog Casey, in whose memory this column is named. You can reach Joan at joan@joanmerriam.com.
