By Diane Kortus
Publisher
I didn’t want a second dog after Princess, my 13-year-old Airedale, died two years ago. We still had Zeke, our goofy yellow lab whose 90 pounds is more than enough dog for me, especially when sweeping up his endless fluffs of hair.
Back then Zeke was 8 and my youngest, Rachel, 15. I figured by the time my daughter headed to college Zeke would be winding down his good life and within a few years I would be dog free and carefree. Instead of planning my days around kids and dogs, I would be planning that trip to Italy I had always promised myself.
A few weeks after Princess died, I was missing her terribly and found my way to the website of Sunshine Airedalers, a statewide group that places abandoned Airedales with suitable families. I learned that most families want to adopt young dogs and that many older Airedales needed homes.
So in a weak moment I completed the online application and checked the box that I would consider an older dog. An older Airedale, I thought, would age gracefully with Zeke and not interfere with my goal to be dog free within five years.
We adopted Jonas believing he was 8-years-old — the same age as Zeke. The Sunshine Airedalers didn’t know much about the dog other than he was a bit unruly and had been abandoned at a pound in West Palm Beach.
My daughter named him Jonas after the main character in “The Giver” by Lois Lowry, her favorite book about a young boy who rescues his adopted infant brother from certain death. A good name for a rescue dog, I agreed.
Rachel and I came to regret that choice as the Jonas Brothers gained fame as Disney’s wholesome pop rock group. No, we explained again and again, Jonas was not named after Joe, Kevin and Nick.
One of the first things we did after getting Jonas was to have his hips X-rayed. Princess suffered from hip dysplasia and we wanted to get Jonas on medication if he too had the disease.
Our vet, Dr. Diman Felipe of Gentle Care Animal Hospital in Land O’ Lakes, called a week later with the good news that Jonas’ hips were perfect. He also had some surprise news — the X-rays showed that Jonas was 3 years old, not 8.
It was suddenly clear why Jonas was such a rowdy boy. He acted like a rambunctious young dog because he was a young dog.
I considered returning Jonas to the Airedale club and exchanging him for an older dog. When I suggested this to Rachel, she was aghast and replied, “Would you have returned me if I had been a boy instead of the girl you wanted?”
With no possible retort, I accepted that Jonas was here to stay and I mentally added five more years to attaining my goal of being dog free. That summer in Italy would have to wait.
In the two years since Jonas joined our family, Zeke has learned to tolerate his annoying insistence to play. Rachel loves Jonas almost as much as she does Zeke with a devotion found only in a child.
Jonas and me? After raising two teenagers, it is nice having someone in the house who is never embarrassed by me and who never talks back.
I would not go as far as to say that my dog is my best friend. But I am happy that Jonas is part of our family and don’t mind that my dream of a dog-free, carefree life has been delayed for a few more years.
