rvsue and her canine crew

Saturday, March 7

This morning Bridget and I leave Las Vegas Bay Campground located on what was once the shoreline of Lake Mead and head into the city. I am determined to arrive at PetSmart early in order to be first in line for adopting a rescue pup.

The past few days I frequently checked the website of Adopt a Rescue Pet .

The organization has a large selection of adoptable dogs which can be seen today at three PetSmart locations in Las Vegas. I choose to go to the store in North Las Vegas as it’s the easiest drive from the campground. We hit the road very early to allow time for getting lost or stuck in traffic.

As it turns out, driving in Las Vegas on a Saturday morning is easy.

We arrive at PetSmart at 8:15 a.m. and the adoption event doesn’t begin until 10 o’clock!

I walk Bridget around the shopping center. Volunteers begin preparations for the event. Mostly women, they haul out heavy, metal crates and set them up. A man sprays the crates with a bleach solution.

Bridget and I stay nearby but out of the way.

I want our presence felt. During a pause in the set-up work, a volunteer starts a conversation with me. I take the opportunity to explain that I’ve been looking to adopt for months, traveling across Arizona, southern California, and now Nevada, and so far I’ve missed out because someone else scoops up the dog before I can get there.

“Not today!” I add. “I drove here from Lake Havasu City yesterday to adopt a dog at this event.”

My dramatic story gains the sympathy of the volunteers.

The story reaches the woman who is in charge. She (I think her name is Naomi, but I’m not sure) comes out of the store and asks if I’m interested in a puppy and do I want male or female.

“I’m interested in everything,” I respond.

“Well, in that case, what’s your name? I’ll put you at the top of the puppy list. We have to make a list because the demand for puppies is high.” I give her my name and thank her.

She reassures me, “We aren’t going to let you go home without a dog today!”

Bridget and I wander around the store waiting for the dogs to arrive.

“Look at all those toys, Bridge. I could get you something. Do you see a toy you like?”

Bridget gives the aisle a quick glance. Her body language answers my question, “meh.”

I buy a bag of five-star rated Blue Wilderness dry dog food.

Let’s pause here . . . .

My focus this morning is on adopting a dog. I need my hands free, and when the action starts, I lock the camera in the PTV. Therefore, I don’t have many photos from the adoption day. I know you’ve already scrolled down to see Reggie, haven’t you! (I took those the next day.)

To continue with a long story made shorter . . .

The puppies are border collie/blue heeler mixes. Beautiful pups, wrong breed. I look at a wire-haired terrier named Sammie. Nice dog, slightly bigger than I hoped for, alert, intelligent, wiry, tan fur. Oh, I don’t know. I’m not connecting with him.

I consider Stormy who rates high on the crazy appearance meter.

He’s a gray mix of poodle and terrier and who-knows-what-all which accounts for his fur sticking out in all directions, including from his face, giving him a look of insanity . . . well . . . . taking a big chance with that one . . . . (Later I see a boy about 8 years old happily leading Stormy away.)

“Have you seen Reggie?” one of the workers asks. “He would be perfect for you.”

Reggie is outside in the parking lot being walked by his foster father, Joe.

This photo was shown in the last post. Hey, he’s cute enough to look at it again!

I admit that, at first, Reggie seems too small.

I had been shown a photo of another dog about Bridget’s size with a white body and black head, possibly a rat terrier. I decide to wait until that dog arrives before making a decision. There was a mix-up on his age and I learn he’s six. His age doesn’t matter because I know right away that he’s not the right one for us.

I choose Reggie.

I’ll tell you more in a future post.

For now I’ll summarize . . . .

Reggie is estimated to be three years old. He was a stray coming from Santa Fe, New Mexico. Reggie has been living with four other dogs in Joe’s home since December. He’s up-to-date on his shots, and he’s neutered and microchipped.

Bridget is a bit stressed from all the barking dogs and strange surroundings. Even so, she’s well-behaved (which I’m sure impresses the volunteers) and she’s polite to Reggie.

I know they will be fine together.

I sign several forms, one promising that I will return Reggie to the Adopt a Rescue Pet organization if he doesn’t work out, even if it’s ten years or more from now. (Fat chance).

The forms are reviewed and I’m questioned about my lifestyle. Will I stay in the area during a trial period? I explain how I live and that I can easily return to Las Vegas, should that be necessary.

One of the forms specifies the adoption fee be paid in cash.

What? Oh no! Do I have $200 dollars with me? I check my wallet. $100. Bridget and I trot out to the PTV to check my cash stash. Whew! Another $100 dollars.

Incredibly I have the exact amount of cash, not a dollar more, not a dollar less.

Reggie is ours!

I’m given a packet of coupons from PetSmart and local veterinarians. As required, I have an identification tag made for Reggie. I also purchase a red lead and collar for Reggie and a red lead for Bridget.

More about this day in a future post . . .

I do want to tell you about bedtime . . . .

Reggie gives me approximately 850 kisses before bed (I lost count). Bridget wiggles into her usual position between me and the wall. Reggie chooses the same position only up near my neck. He falls asleep with his chin resting on my throat.

Sometime during the night I awake to find Reggie’s soft face lying on my face. We’re cheek-to-cheek. I don’t move. He’s so light I barely feel him there and soon I fall back to sleep.

Around 4:30 a.m. I need to use the bathroom. This wakes up Reggie so I take him outside on-leash. He relieves himself. We go back to bed. He falls asleep. Gee, this guy is all right!