The writer adopted two abandoned Shetland Sheepdogs that look similar to this one – and that was the beginning of a new life for her. — 123rf
Full disclosure: I’ve never adopted an animal from a rescue organisation like Woods Humane Society in San Luis Obispo and Atascadero, California, but I know intimately how drastically your life can change if you save a pet or two.
I also value fully the work Woods and its sister shelters do and know how lucky all of us are that they’re there.
So, I was delighted to get The Tribune’s story assignment about the Society’s 70th anniversary year.
My dog adoption story is highly unlikely, as it began 150 miles (241km) from home when I was a divorced mum with two young sons.
But it led to a chance meeting on another trip twice as far in another direction that would determine the wild turn the rest of our lives would take.
It all started while the boys and I were on a motorhome vacation in Santa Barbara with my mother.
We learned about two abandoned Shetland Sheepdogs that desperately needed a new home. With flea-infested, badly matted coats, very long toenails and other problems, they were a sad sight to see, but so sweet.
Each of the dogs immediately got attached to one of the boys, who fell immediately in love and were loathe to let the girls go.
“We have to save them, Mum!” they said in unison.
We had no choice. We rescued the purebred dogs that reportedly didn’t have pedigrees anymore.
Immediately, we took them to the vet, who examined, X-rayed, washed, vaccinated and wormed the girls, cut their nails (maybe for the first time!) and did other essential but unpleasant things to them.
We didn’t want the Shelties associating all that nasty stuff with us!
The vet estimated their ages at five and seven.
Vacay over, we headed back to Cambria, and I dove into researching the breed I’d admired and loved since childhood.
Next steps that changed our lives
During our next RV trip with my mum, I continued my info search, to no avail until our last day in Reno.
On my first phone call digging for information, I got the world’s longest voicemail from the town’s American Kennel Club. At the end, the message included a phone number for additional questions.
The man at that number referred me to Reno’s Collie club.
The Collie-club fella hemmed and hawed for a bit, then said, “Wait a minute! Tanner has Shelties, not Collies!”
He gave me Richard’s phone number.
By then, I’d been in that pre-cell phone booth for more than 90 minutes.
When I called, Richard’s daughter told me that her dad was asleep.
“He’s a pit boss at Harrah’s Club and works the graveyard shift,” she said.
When I demurred, she almost pleaded with me to postpone our departure the next morning so Richard could see our Shelties.
We did.
He and I chatted for a couple of hours. We thanked him for his hospitality and for sharing his knowledge. Then Mum, the boys, the dogs and I headed home.
During the next few weeks, the woman who had given Bambi and Bonnie to us found and sent us the dogs’ pedigrees. I wrote to Richard to tell him his analysis about their heritage had been correct.
Concurrently, he wrote to tell me about a dog show in Oakland, asking if I’d like to meet him there to watch the president of the national Sheltie club judge that class.
Very long story short, we met in Oakland, my mum took the RV out of the city, Richard and I went to the show, had lunch in San Francisco, got caught in the Columbus Day parade, got to know each other a bit and had dinner with some longtime friends of his.
Then he thoughtfully drove me down to Aptos, where my mum had taken the motorhome to escape the steep hills and traffic of The City.
When she and I learned Richard hadn’t ever been to Cambria, we invited him down for a visit. He was on vacation, and it was late, so he camped out on the RV’s dinette bed that night, and we all headed for Cambria the next day.
He stayed with me and the boys.
Three days later, he proposed.
We were married early the next year.
With the nudging of our canine Cupids, we had a fantastic life together for almost 44 years (nearly all of it in Cambria), working together, owning and running a bakery/ catering service, living with and caring for my mother, launching an art-jewellery business, travelling and so much more.
Mum, Richard, her Teacup Poodles and I even took the motorhome to Alaska and back.
“It was 10 weeks of adventure, and we all came back still friends,” she said. Looking affectionately at my husband, she added, “You know, Richard, you wear well.”
Sadly, he died in 2020, leaving us bereft but so grateful for the wild, canine-inspired twists of fate that brought us together.
Can adopting abandoned dogs change your life? What do you think? – By KATHE TANNER/The Tribune (San Luis Obispo, Calif./Tribune News Service
