Anyone who knows me knows I basically turn into mush when a little dog is around. I’m known to yell “puppy!” with the excitement of a two-year-old when I see a dog pass by on the street. The past few months, my puppy-talk has evolved (devolved?) into calling most dogs “Shaboo.”

I grew up with dogs–the earliest ones I remember were Yofi and Doovey (sp?) which meant Beautiful and Little Bear in Hebrew, respectively. I don’t remember what happened to those ones, but then they were replaced by Mr. Spacely, a terrier who had to be put to sleep not long after we got him. Finally, when I was in first grade, we hit the puppy jackpot with Maxwell Smart, a toy poodle (really the size of a miniature) with a personality so human it was uncanny. He was all cliche things that dogs are–loyal, fun, sweet, eager; he was also incredibly smart. Sometimes too smart–he was an incredible escape artist. And we taught him how to play the ukulele. Anyway, Max was our family dog from the time I was in first grade to my first year in college, when he died tragically. Now my parents have Trixie, another little black poodle who I have a love-hate relationship with since they brought her home when I was in junior high.

But since I moved out of my parents’ house, I have longed for a little dog of my own (or maybe two). Alas, alack, I’ve lived in dorm rooms and apartments and traveled off and on way too much; all barring me from my canine dreams. Robert loves dogs, too, and we’ve been dreaming together lately about rescuing one as soon as we can move to an apartment that allows pets (and they’re hard to find!). So yesterday I made the mistake of googling “small dog rescue los angeles” and stumbled upon literally hundreds of photos and bios of dogs I would adopt in a heartbeat. But seeing all of those mistreated, neglected, unwanted dogs made my heart break, and tonight when I showed Robert some of my favorite scruffy shaboos, I started crying (embarrassing, I know). It kills me to see all of them! “What can we do?” I asked Robert, picturing us buying a farm and caring for a dozen or so of these little four-legged orphans. “Become an activist, Love,” he said. “That’s what these people are doing,” and he motioned to the laptop screen, bearing the adopt-a-pet web page. After perusing their “how can I help” page, I decided that my first step would be including a little widget on the margin of my blog, encouraging anyone to adopt/rescue a pet from a shelter. So just follow the adopt-a-pet link I have on the right, and there you can search in the city you live in for the kind of dog you are looking for. Hopefully one day soon I’ll write a post introducing you to my new shaboo (or two)!


3 thoughts on “Shaboo

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  1. I love this post, Joy! We are seriously sisters in doghood. I feel like I could have written this post. I regularly squeal like a child around dogs (especially little ones) and cannot go to a shelter or pet store without tearing up and wanting to rescue all the dogs. I actually hate going to pet stores due to the unethical treatment of the pets and the practice of charging ridiculous prices for creatures that need homes. No need to be embarrassed about crying over these sweet, innocent and sometimes mistreated little ones–I do it quite often. And it’s actually been a crazy Oprah-like fantasy of mine to get a large farm where all the rescued pups can run free! I love your heart for getting the rescue message out there. We actually have a weekly pet adoption column on San Marino Patch and other local Patch sites that shows photos and info for local shelter pets that need homes. I want to adopt almost all of them every week. Best of luck finding your new Shaboo. 🙂


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