I never thought I was a dog person. I grew up with a beagle type dog- loved her when I was young…but really she didn’t do much. Nugget would follow you around, with sad eyes waiting for you to pet her. She’d eat the food off the kitchen floor that we spilled at dinner time. And she would bark at “stinky steve,” a chain smoking neighbor who thought he was Jimmy Carter. She made a nice pillow, but I wasn’t sure it was anything I needed to have when I “grew up.”
Newt Gingrich came to us almost 2 years ago. Rob and I had seen a picture of these gorgeous dogs in a magazine at the Vet’s office. I was dog ignorant and made the common mistake of- “wow look at that adorable short haired grey dog.” I had never seen one before. In the U.P., where I grew up, everyone had strays and mutts.
Thankfully, my personality matched with that of these clumsy uninhibited and impatient grey devils. Family and friends constantly say that he is the dog version of me! Had my husband gotten Newt without me, I think his picture would probably have been on GLWR’s website at some point. J But alas, Newts endearing curiosity and intelligence mixed with hilarious idiocy has won his heart as well.
We took Newt home at 9 weeks. The “breeder” said he was only crying because he really wanted a home. His father was on the cover of Michigan Outdoors, a trophy dog, but the conditions of his home were less than desirable. Newt was in a pen with two 8 month Weimaraners, a goat and several sheep. When you picked him up and he howled and cried, and looked sad. We didn’t know enough to realize the dog was in pain. We pulled out of the driveway and had to immediately open the windows…because his little Weimie gas was about to blow us out of the car. Three miles later he threw up, and 30 miles after that he had diarrhea all over the U-Haul that we happened to be driving that day. He wouldn’t get off the bed. By the next day he was pooping blood.
The diagnosis at urgent care that night was discouraging: roundworms, severe dehydration, pneumonia, slightly enlarged heart, abdominal hernia, and infected eyes. $1500 dollars and 2 nights on IV’s later he came home with us.
It took about 2 months for him to become a Weimaraner. And when he did we weren’t ready. A bored day in his crate he tugged at a carpet fiber until we came home to 3 square feet of unwoven burber, and a giant ball of cream fuzz inside his crate. He ate every bra he could get his paws on, and he had mercy on no clothes hanger. My husband even had the audacity to mow our lawn without Newt one evening. For that he was rightfully punished with a giant piece of couch dropped at his feet when he returned, stuffing scattering the room.
At almost 2 years old, 3 obedience classes later, and a sum of money that no one wants to hear, he is still our baby. And he is actually, quite a well behaved dog. But he still does the things that make us fall in love. He carries my pajamas around in his mouth every morning after I get in the shower and often hides them under our bed. He still runs into things, trips on his own legs, misjudges his jump onto the couch and bounces off. And as I look over this morning as my husband sleeps, and newt pulls every piece of underwear, one by one, out of my bottom drawer in order to have an appropriate place to bury his rawhide, I smile, and am reminded again that our life would not be the same without him!
By Lindsay - Newt's mom and Foster mom to Addy
