The Search for a New Puppy

My oldest son, who is now 9, recently suffered a great loss. His baby, a small black Poodle he's had since he was 3, was killed a little over a month ago. He was quite naturally devastated, and he cried for days. But, like most little boys who need dogs for companionship, Tristan soon started asking about a new puppy. It's not that he was over Brownie. Far from it. It's just that he NEEDS a dog. It's a part of who he is. Like his glasses or his medic ID bracelet. A small dog running at his heels makes him complete, and going through the summer without a puppy was going to be hard.

And thus began our search for a dog. Since it was going to be Tristan's dog, and he was going to be the one looking after this dog, it only made sense that he get to choose. The first thing he wanted me to look for was a small black Poodle, boy or girl, as long as it looked like Brownie.

I'm not that stupid, so relax. I didn't go out and get a small black Poodle he could call Brownie. But I also didn't want to refuse out of hand. Here's where his desire for a purebred Poodle comes in handy. You don't go out and pick up a purebred, show quality, Toy Poodle from your local shelter. It just doesn't work that way. It can take months, sometimes a year, before that perfect Poodle shows up.

What did this mean for me? Well, it meant that I could help him search for a puppy in a convincing manner without committing to a black Poodle. So we searched for a while, looked at pictures of dogs that might have black puppies, and cried quite a bit for Brownie. Tristan cried every night for 2 weeks, actually, which I had expected. He was grieving.

So a little time passed, only a couple weeks really (though it seemed longer), and we were still looking at puppy pictures. I know my son, and I knew he'd do a flip flop on me. And he did. One afternoon, as he was browsing yet another breeder's website, he turned to me and said, "I don't want another Brownie. I want something small and sweet and not black. Or brown. That would remind me of Brownie too much."

That was the sentence I'd been waiting for. I'd known he'd want a Poodle, but not one exactly like his baby. So we discussed it in detail. He was fine with any color that wasn't black or brown, but he wanted a little girl, and he wanted it smaller than Brownie had been. She'd been 8 pounds all soaking wet, not exactly large, so smaller came as a surprise. 6 pounds is what he'd decided he wanted.

To be frank, that size made me a little nervous, but it wasn't my dog. I wasn't the one who would have to feed her. I wasn't the one who would have to carry her outside, or put her in my bike basket when her little legs couldn't keep up. Tristan had been doing all these things since he was 3. He could do them at 9. Not my dog. Not my call.

So now we had a real description of the dog he might want. At this point, I called the breeder who had bred Brownie all those years ago. As soon as I told her what had happened, and as soon as I gave her Tristan's wish list, she told me she had two girls who might be pregnant with puppies who might fit his needs. We'd have to wait and see.

But just knowing a puppy might be born soon was enough to lift Tristan's spirits. Not completely, and he continues to grieve for Brownie, but he's getting better. And having to wait for a puppy is good for him. It allows him to finish grieving while knowing there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

And that light is enough for now.