Casa MinnChica has been crawling with four-legged friends ever since I moved out on my own. I was never allowed to have pets growing up, but once I went off to college, I made it a point to adopt an animal or three as soon as I was allowed.
My first pet was my cat: Chloe. I had wanted a cat for forever, and although I thought I might be allergic to them, I also thought getting a short haired cat wouldn’t be so bad. And for the first six months or so it wasn’t. My little tortoiseshell is the sweetest cat with the biggest attitude. She knows what she wants, and when she wants it. She rules the furry animal kingdom here with an iron fist.
After my husband and I moved out of our apartment and into a house, we decided to get a dog. My husband had always wanted a dog, and although I was happy being a cat person, I liked the idea of adding to our little family. So one day we decided to go get a dog, just like that. We piled into the car and drove to the Tucson Humane Society to see what they had. My husband was desperate for a puppy, so that he could train the dog to his specifications, and he was dead set on a German Shepard. While the Human Society had a few puppies (an adorable black lab litter that was abandoned), they didn’t have the breed we were looking for. So, we got back in the car and tried again.
We went to the nearest PetSmart, no puppies with any of those rescue groups. Then we went to the PetSmart all the way on the other side of town, no German Shepard puppies there either. At this point, I lost all interest in driving around with nothing to show for it. I wanted a dog, and since my husband wasn’t letting any of my instant gratification take over, we kept on driving. Another PetSmart, two Petco’s and a debate to drive up to Phoenix and I was done. Absolutely, positively done.
I told my husband he either needed to go do some research and find his “ideal puppy” or settle for one of the other dogs we had seen that day. After much hemming and hawing, we made our way back to our first stop and forty minutes later were the proud parents of the last black lab puppy. We named him Jet.
When we brought Jet home almost seven years ago, he weighed all of 10 pounds. Today, he is still our baby, but at 80 pounds, is no longer a lap dog.
About two years later, we were buying some dog food when I saw the cutest face in the entire world, and decided that Jet needed a friend. He was the best dog, but I imagined that he was lonely while the husband and I were out working all day. And really, who could avoid this face?
Both the dog and I made sad eyes at the husband, and after bringing Jet from home and seeing them get along, we went home with dog number two. For hours after we brought her home, my husband could not remember her name. He kept saying “Come here Tracey, or Stacey, or Macy… whatever the hell your name is!” Of course, she would come running right away and beg for some loving. Once he resorted to calling the dog “hey you,” I knew it was time for a new name, and told the husband he had to pick it. And that was when Abby was named.
And yes, they are the best of friends.