There are those moments in life when you let your heart call the shots, and then there are times when you really should take a moment to question your sanity. Bringing home puppy Mike? Oh, that was definitely a lapse of judgement!
To put it bluntly, Mike was off-the-charts FERAL. And I’m not talking about the usual puppy antics, like transforming your shoes into chew toys, staging sock hide-and-seek, or having a carpet rave. Oh no, my friend. Mike was a whole new flavor of feral—imagine a wild cat on steroids with a bat outta hell vibe!
When I first approached him, he actually came over to investigate me. He looked at me, sniffed around, checked me out and seemed reasonably interested in discovering who this strange woman was and what exactly she wanted from him. So far, so good. I thought we were making progress. Then came the moment I decided to pick him up and put him in the car. Apparently, that was where our relationship took a very dramatic turn.
The moment I lifted him up from his run, Mike transformed from a curious little puppy into a creature experiencing the greatest injustice in recorded history. He started screaming. Not whining. Not protesting politely. SCREAMING. He kicked, wriggled, twisted, scratched and yelled in a language I can only assume was an ancient sighthound dialect YOU FREAKING MONSTER, PUT ME BACK!
I am fairly certain that if he had known how to contact Interpol, World Animal Protection and the Hague Court, he would have contacted all three. I was kidnapping him. And quite possibly planning to sell him into a life of forced labour. I think he is still convinced that will happen.
Meanwhile, I was standing there gobsmacked in the middle of a paddock, with the hunters looking at me and waiting for a decision, wondering how such a tiny creature could generate that much outrage.
The road home was a whole symphony, trying on different tones to convince me that I was making a grave error. Too bad… we were past that point.
Home he came.
And what was to follow was much, much worse.
I was still heartbroken after losing Jack, who was my shadow. My heart was nowhere near ready for another chapter, but there I was. I had imagined bringing home a little affectionate puppy, offering cuddles, giving him a warm bed, and slowly building that beautiful connection between human and dog. “Affectionate” – sweet dreams! I brought home a tiny feral creature who wanted absolutely NOTHING to do with me. Nothing. Under no circumstances.
Every attempt at affection or merely interaction was treated like a crime. Every effort to get closer was met with utter hostility, as much as a tiny creature can muster.
I had brought home a puppy. Unfortunately, the puppy had not agreed to the arrangement (probably still doesn’t!). And so began our adventure, still grieving while sharing my home with a miniature wild racoon who appeared to have absolutely no intention of becoming domesticated. It got to bad that at some point he brought me to tears, while screaming “I want my bloody dog back, THIS ONE HATES ME!” And it takes a lot to reach that point.
Looking back, I probably should have realized that Mike wasn’t going to be an ordinary dog. He was going to be a Mike. And that, as I would eventually discover, is a completely different mammal.
Mike didn’t know it yet, but he was home.
And I didn’t know it yet, or maybe I did, beneath the tears and despair, that this little feral lunatic with a white “M.I.C.” spelled on his chest, was about to become a huge part of my heart.
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