It has officially been a week since we became dog owners. A lot has happened in these last 7 days. Let me re-phrase that: We have spent a lot of money in the last 7 days.

Before even bringing him home we knew that – at minimum – he was going to need to be neutered. Being that we traveled to the neighboring county to get him we were also putting ourselves at a disadvantage in terms of affiliated free or discounted services. Ultimately, we were going to end up having to make a decision on whether or not to take him knowing very little information about his history, his health or his temperament.

Knowing that I couldn’t make such a huge decision on my own, I dragged Andrea along for moral support. As the three of us stood there at the shelter (Stella went too), we watched a large, hulking beast practically fly out of the kennel. It was like watching a rodeo bull being released from his pen – dragging the shelter assistant down the hallway towards us. I just remember looking at Andrea and thinking, “Um, this might be a huge mistake.” From there we had a 15 minute meet and greet with him on the lawn in front of the Shasta County Animal Control offices, got a brief and highly optimistic assessment about his potential, and then we left to eat lunch and decide whether or not this would become the newest member of our family.

The next thing I know I am at a Longs buying a collar, a leash and a couple of gallons of bottled water. It was unanimous: he was coming home with us.

The day before we left on this odyssey I had set up two appointments – on the outside chance that he was a keeper. One appointment was for the overall check-up, and then there was the appointment to get rid of his man-parts. That was scheduled for first thing the day after the exam. Looking much like the lady at the shelter, I arrived at his first appointment being dragged through the lobby of the vet office. Thankfully, through some miracle of the heavens, Porter and Stella walked hand-in-hand to the nearest bank of chairs and sat patiently while I tried to restrain horse-dog with one hand, and fill out paperwork with the other. Eventually, the receptionist took mercy on me and offered to be dragged around the waiting room by him while I finished things up.

Being that the shelter seemed to do nothing but the absolute bare minimum, I ordered up a full battery of tests and shots. From all outward appearances, he seemed in good health. Then came the news that he had heartworm. As I sat there listening to her deliver the ominous news, while simultaneously reminding me that we had a 10-day window in which we could return him, I looked down at this hulking beast sleeping on my feet. In the 24 short hours since we had first watched him barrel out of his kennel at the shelter, he had already become a part of our family. This assessment was further reinforced when I asked Steve how he felt about moving forward with a costly and high maintenance health issue and he responded by reminding me that I was asking someone who had paid to have his (terminally ill) pet rats euthanized. Ranger was staying.

As it turns out, the treatment for adult heartworm is a bit costly, but the larger strain is going to come from the fact that once he gets the shot, we have to keep him sedentary for 4 weeks. Four. Long. Weeks. Ugh.

The last 7 days have been a mad scramble to resurrect a perimeter fence, keep him from licking at the stitches left behind by his de-manifying, and get him used to our house, our voice and his name. It turns out that he really does have some pretty amazing potential. Considering he was a 2-year old stray that hadn’t been neutered, we were preparing ourselves for the worst. Instead, we have a dog that has proven to be amazingly trustworthy – as was tested the first day when he broke out of his crate and neither chewed nor peed on a single item in the house. He has a definite weakness for cats, much to the dismay of ours, whose dog tolerance hovers somewhere on the spectrum near the “I’d rather be submerged in water” range. Not going so well in that department. Steve has recently decided to create some escape routes in the fencing during this “adjustment” period. I have complete faith that we will reach some sort of truce amongst the three of them, it is just going to take some time.

This faith comes from the fact that the dog who lives with us now is nothing like the crazy, yelping, lunging beast we first witnessed. He is every bit the sweet and lovable guy that was described to us that day at the shelter. I find myself constantly wondering about his past, and can’t help but believe that he was someone’s pet somewhere along the way. And all I can say is that their loss is so completely our gain.