Lightning Strikes Often

When I married my husband, I already had a cat. Okay, so Midnight wasn’t what I would say old enough to be called a “cat”. She was a four-month old kitten; a calm, baby, who loved to sit in your lap and be cuddled.

Yet, despite her affection, my husband longed for a dog. He didn’t care what breed, or how big it might grow. He wanted a dog – end of subject.

After a year, I gave in, and we went shopping for what would be his pet. We searched the local pounds and shelters but saw none that interested us. Some seemed dirty, smelly, too old, some even looked malnourished. We opted for a pet shop but not just any pet shop. We wanted one that wasn’t part of a chain store, like the Walmart pet enter, or Petco.

After driving around for a few hours one Friday night, we found one that we’d never heard of before – Canine Corral. The shop was clean, neat, and each dog looked well cared for.

We walked up and down the aisle and around its corners and check out all the pups. There were approximately twelve cages hosting two pups per cage. The cages were large enough to allow the pups plenty of room. The cages were also not stacked on top of each other – which is something I admired about the place. Last thing I wanted was a dog that had gotten peed on by the dog above him (or her). Oh, wait, my husband wanted a male dog so let’s forget the “her” word.

Most of the dogs for adoption were puppies or dogs that weren’t about to grow too large. When we discussed adopting a dog, we agreed to get one that would stay relatively small, after all, we had the cat and didn’t want her afraid of a new pet in the house. Also, we felt a smaller dog would be able run around a bit easier without knocking over the furniture.

Coming upon one cage, we saw two pups, Toy Poodles, one black and one cream colored – which turned out to be called “apricot”.

The apricot Toy was lying in the cage looking completely forlorn as the black one was jumping all over him. The apricot pup looked helpless as it looked up at us as if begging for help to save it.

My husband said, “So what do you think?”

My heart went out to the apricot and agreed he’d be coming home with us.

The papers signed, the “doggie equipment” picked out, we paid the extravagant fee and left with our new little family addition.

Once in the car, we discussed names. My husband said he wanted to call the dog, Zeus.

“Zeus? For such a small dog? You’ve got to be kidding, right?” I asked.

Nope, he was not. He said he always wanted to have a dog he could call Zeus, so that’s what we called this adorable little puppy who slept all the home.

Pulling into the driveway, I placed his collar around his neck and attached the leash. We both walked him to the backyard where he did “his business” almost as if he knew it was expected of him.

Now, to see how the cat would react.

We removed Zeus’ collar and let him roam around the house. The cat looked at him curiously but didn’t approach him. Once Zeus walked through each room, the lightning struck! He started to run, and run, and run some more. He tore through every room in the house making figure eights as he did.

We stood in complete confusion as we watched what we thought was a quiet little puppy race through each room as if his little life depended on it. We watched him for the better part of an hour until he finally fell on the rug in the living room. Yes, he fell! At first, we thought he had given himself a heart attack and died. My husband was too afraid to move, thinking the little guy would never get up and run again.

I walked toward him and said, “Well, he’s still breathing.” My husband sighed audibly with relief.

“Hey, little guy,” I said as I gently rubbed his head, “can you open your eyes?”

Zeus lifted his head, licked my hand, and then noticed the cat who stood frozen in place watching what I would later nickname Zeus, my lunatic dog.

Zeus jumped to his feet and slowly walked over to Midnight, my black Burmese cat. Zeus barked once. Midnight hissed. Zeus nudged closer. Midnight backed up, then the race was on – again.

She was a bit taller, older, and much faster, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try to catch her. Midnight ran into the bedroom and leaped on the bed. Zeus arrived there within three seconds, as I said, he was a bit slower, and since he didn’t yet have the ability to jump on the bed, kept jumping up and down in a feeble attempt to get at his new friend.

Midnight stood at the edge of the mattress and stared down at this wild thing that bobbled up and down like the head on a bobbled-head doll and looked as confused as we were.

I looked at my husband, who by now was wearing a silly grin. I said, “Well, here I thought we were saving him from that wild black dog, but now, who’s going to save us?”

My husband laughed as he picked up the bouncing apricot pup, carried him to the doggie bed we’d purchased, placed him in it and patted his back until the dog fell asleep.

So much for a quiet little puppy. As I said, this little guy would prove to be my lunatic dog. I say that lovingly because, that one incident when we’d first gotten him home never stopped. It occurred daily even if he weren’t chasing the cat. Zeus just like to run – and run he did!

While there were so many other funny antics I can recall, there is another that had, not just us but also our friends and neighbors laughing. My husband loved taking Zeus for a walk down the street. Zeus behaved very well during these twice-daily excursions. Yet, for whatever reason, and I wish I could have crawled in his doggie brain to figure this out, whenever he’d sense a female approaching, he’d stand on his hind legs and strut until she had passed him. Then he’d go back down on all four legs. He would not do this for men, just women. Neither my husband nor I taught him to do this. It was something he did from the second day we had him, so I know no one had time to teach him this. Yet, here he was, our little town flirt, strutting along to entice all the women to stop and admire him.

After his walk, when my husband removed the collar, Zeus again, began his daily ritual of racing through the house until he thoroughly exhausted himself – or at least rested enough so he’d be able to again chase our cat.

It didn’t take long for Zeus and Midnight to become best of friends. They ate together, slept together, and chased each other around the house.

Yep, our lightning of a dog never stopped striking!