Thelma Update 2
When Thelma, a fifty-five pound Labrador mutt, bulldozed her way through our fence and into our backyard, I didn’t feel the instantaneous affection I normally experience when meeting a new foster dog. In fact, I thought of her as a drooling, farting, burping, shedding, snorting beast with a brawny body, squat and close to the ground, that could knock me off my feet if they weren’t firmly planted. For the first few days she stayed inside the house, I thought all lab-lovers were insane.
But after a month of living with her, I’ve come to adore her and completely understand people’s preference for the Labrador breed. It was Thelma’s keen intelligence and loving personality that sold me. When she’s not playing with her buddies, Silvio and Meadow, she watches me with dark soulful eyes gleaning with appreciation, and she treats the foster puppies that come and go with an endearing maternal affection. As far as intelligence, at night, I only have to say, “crate” or point to her special digs, and she nudges open the cage door, steps inside, spins a few times, and adjusts her blanket before nestling down for a night of sleep.
As my affection has grown, my aversion towards her hillbilly manners has diminished. Her snoring has somehow become comforting, a kind of rhythmic wheezing, and I don’t gag anymore if I notice her gawking with a string of drool dangling from her maw to her giant paws, when I’m eating strawberries. Now and again, I even invite her onto the bed for an afternoon nap, even though I know she’s going to drop a stinking bomb at some point.
Today, my sidekick Charlotte and I took our lovable brute Thelma along with her buddy Meadow to the park across the street from the Country Music Hall of Fame to meet a potential adopter. The instant John – early twenties, tall, dressed in a Hall of Fame uniform with a name tag, – saw her, he said, ”wow.” Then he kept repeating the word, staring with open admiration at her shiny coat, stocky physique, and square face.
After jumping on John a few times (we’re still working on this unacceptable behavior), sniffing the wilting flowers edging the sidewalk, and playfully chewing on Meadow’s ear, Thelma laid on the pavement, as though being in downtown Nashville around bustling traffic and milling tourists was normal. When John commented on her calm behavior, I explained that it’s easy to maintain with one good walk a day. I told him that without structured exercise, Thelma was big enough to cause a lot of damage, and I didn’t want that happen to either of them.
Before we parted, John said he was eager to call Donna, ICHBA’s administrator, to set up a meet and greet, meaning we’ll visit his home with Thelma to determine if his living situation is okay for an animal. I’ll keep you posted.