The Origins of Oreo

This “tale” is about how our furry family member became my mother’s guardian angel with the age-old saying, “a dog’s bark is worse than its bite.

If you’re a first time dog owner, stick around to the end for a bonus tip I learned while raising a puppy.

Like all great hero stories, first, we must cover the backstory to our hero’s origin before we go into how our “mighty” Oreo saved the day. So let's go back to a Friday evening in October of 2011. I was in college, living with my parents at the time, relaxing in the living room watching a show with my dad.

I had unknowingly fallen asleep at some point, to which I was eventually woken up by my dad telling me I had just missed a call. Still half asleep, I checked, and it was from my then-girlfriend.

I called back immediately. She picked up; I greeted her and asked what she was doing, and she told me she was shopping.

Like any logical person, I inquired what she was shopping for. After a brief moment of silence, it was as though her phone had been handed over to a small child no older than 6 or 7, as she tried her best to sound like this young child. Finally, she goes, shopping for puppy food.

Immediately I snap out of the groggy state and switch from boyfriend mode to a parent in detective mode, interrogating my small child because they’ve just done something mischievous and hoped to get away with it.

In a confused and concerned voice, I say, “Why!?, why are you shopping for puppy food?”

She says, “Because I have a puppy.”

Why do you have a puppy?, I asked.

“I found him,” she says

What do you mean you found him? You’re staying in the dorms, and they don’t allow dogs. So you shouldn’t be finding any puppies.

I know, that’s why I called to see if he could stay at your place until I can take him to the vet on Monday. When you didn’t answer, I figured I would just hide him in my room until then since my roommates would be gone.

Looking over at my dad, I told him what was happening and asked if she could bring him over for the weekend. He said, “you know we’re not supposed to have dogs in the house, but since it's just the weekend, I’ll allow it.”

I give her the green light. Thirty Minutes later, I get a phone call that she has arrived. I open the door and see her holding a laundry basket lined with towels, and inside is this tiny little puppy curled up in a ball, shaking.

After settling in the house, I picked him up out of the basket to get a better look. His fur coat was similar to the traditional black and white color of a border collie, but his origins were unknown, so I wasn’t sure if he was a border collie.

Given his physical condition, I could tell he had been through a lot. He had two whiskers on one side of his mouth and half of one on the other side; He was very boney and could fit in the palm of my hand. He couldn’t have weighed more than a couple of pounds, if that at all.

So I asked for the full story of how she “found” this puppy, and she told me that she was at the house of someone from our friend group. While outside, another friend - who lived a couple of places down - came walking up while holding a puppy; he says that while he was outside smoking a cigarette, it had wandered out of the buses into his front yard. He wasn’t sure where the puppy came from, so he checked with the neighbors to see if anyone might be missing a puppy.

At that point, she decided to take him in over the weekend to give him food and water before taking him in for a check-up since he looked like he was in poor condition.

This was not my first time having a dog, I’ve owned a couple in my lifetime, so I knew what to expect with puppies. I’ve always had a soft spot for small adorable animals. Given that we weren’t supposed to have any new pets, I did my best to emotionally distance myself to avoid getting attached. I even went as far as not giving him a name just yet, because it’s like the age-old farmer’s saying, “once you name them, they’re family.”

As you can tell, that didn’t last very long; otherwise, I wouldn’t be sharing this little “tale” of a journey. But that’s fine because deep in my heart I wanted to keep him.

During the weekend, my mother, brother, then-girlfriend, and I discussed some possible names, just in case, we decided to keep him. The three of them liked the idea of naming him Oreo, given his coat was black and white. However, I thought that was a bit too cheesy and wanted to come up with a name that was a bit stronger, like Max or Spike.

Monday comes around and I head to the veterinarian's office with the puppy. During the examination, the doctor goes through the checklist, vitals, bloodwork, etc. While I waited for the doctor to finish, I asked what breed he believes the puppy is, how old he might be, and how big he might get. The doctor tells me that he’s 6 to 8 weeks old, and with his current weight of 3.6 pounds, he might not get bigger than 15 to 20 pounds max.

I thought he would get bigger than that. It turns out I was right in the end; he eventually reached the 40-45 pound range.

The vet asked if we had given him a name. I told him my thoughts and what everyone else said. He agreed Oreo was a fitting name for him. So I took that as a sign from the universe and decided to stick with it.

During that car ride home, I thought about whether I should keep him or take him to the animal shelter. It was a big decision because our house rules were one thing, but my heart said otherwise.

I knew that if he were going to stay, it would require my mother and brother's assistance to get a yes from my father. Lucky for Oreo, my mother and younger brother already liked him and were on my side.

Later that evening, I took him outside to use the restroom and let him stretch his legs by roaming around our front yard for a bit. While I waited for him to finish, I stood on the front porch contemplating what to decide. Then, finally, an Idea came to mind, and I knew exactly how to resolve my dilemma.

After a few minutes of running around, he walked over to the edge of the porch and attempted to climb up, he could reach with his front paws, but when he would use one of his back paws, he couldn’t quite get a grip to make it.

After 3 or 4 failed attempts, he sat there and whimpered while waiting for me to pick him up so we could go back inside. The day before, I had seen him make the climb up during one of our little outings, so I knew he was capable of doing it.

For visual purposes, this was a single-step porch, no taller than your typical steps for a flight of stairs. It consisted of two layers of bricks with a concrete slab as the floor.

At this point, standing there, I looked right into his little blue eyes, and I said to him.

“Alright, little dude, if you make it up this step, you can stay.”

I knew he was capable of doing it. Internally, I was rooting for him to make it. He sat there briefly, tried once more, and slipped. He whimpered a little louder this time. Finally, I told him, “you can do it. I believe in you; I’ve seen you do it before.”

In those seconds after my last statement, I could only imagine what was going through his little mind, possibly the same thoughts and emotions we have as humans every time we face adversity. Sadness, frustration, and perhaps even confusion while trying to figure out how to make it to the top.

With what I could imagine was him rolling up his sleeves and building up all of his energy, he pops back up, reaches for the edge with his front paws, and as he leans forward, he manages to get a solid footing with his back left paw. As if this were the triumphant moment in the story where time slows down, and the hero’s motivational music plays in the background, queue, “It’s the climb” by Miley Cyrus - he climbs onto the porch. Victorious!

At that moment, I was so proud of him, and I told him “I knew you could do it, and welcome to the family!”

I picked him up, carried him into the house, and cheered as we went inside, just like Rudy being carried off the field by his teammates after his last football game.

Once we got in the house, I told my parents I would like to keep him and will take full responsibility for his care. My dad said, you know the house rules, but so long as you take care of everything, he can stay.

Unbeknownst to all of us at the time, the very same location where our journey together began would be the same place he would become my mother’s hero.

Fast forward 5 years and several months later, it’s summertime. I was living on my own and I had two semesters left to complete my Bachelor's degree. Oreo was staying with my parents because of the yard space and I felt better knowing he was there whenever my mom was at the house by herself. Again, he isn’t a big dog, but at least he provides an extra layer of security, as he would bark anytime he heard something outside, making him a natural alarm system.

I was informed after the fact about the next portion of this “tale.”

For a better understanding of the geographical location of the house. We lived less than a minute's drive outside the west side of town; you make a right down a dirt road, about 400 yards later, you turn left behind some trees and the house is to your right sitting in the middle of less than an acre of land. You couldn’t miss it, we had one neighbor across the road and that was it.

On this particular day, it had been midafternoon, my brother was at his summer job and my father was at the store for some groceries. Leaving my mother alone in the house with Oreo. Not even 15 minutes go by and the doorbell goes off. Naturally, Oreo barks, like every dog in the world when there’s someone at the door. My mother wasn’t expecting anyone to stop by; she looked through the peephole to see who w as at the door. It was a man none of us had met before.

She opens the door slightly, just wide enough to peek out, and inquire what the person wanted. Greeting the man she inquired why he was there. He says that his car broke down just up on the main road and was wondering if he could step inside to use a phone to call a friend for a ride. He tried our neighbors, but no one answered the door.

My mother's first thought was that this was odd because the house was close enough where you could see the two gas station signs across from each other, at the edge of town from the main road. It's probably two and a half city blocks away and they’re in plain sight.

She tells him that he can use her cell phone but he has to stand in the middle of the yard until she sets the phone on the porch in front of the door, wait until the door is closed to get it, then place it by the door and ring the door when he’s done, then return back to the middle of the yard so she can grab it. Afterward, he can stay on the porch while he waits for his friend to pick him up. All to which he happily obliged.

Not even 20 minutes pass and my mother recalls a vehicle pulling up, the man hops into the car and they leave. Shortly after, my father returns and my mother explains what happened. He thought it was odd also but was glad that she was safe.

About half an hour goes by and the doorbell goes off again. Again, Oreo begins barking. This time it was an officer from the sheriff's department. He informed my parents that a convict evaded custody and was loose in the area. So, he was going up and down the main road letting people know so they could stay alert.

One of the interesting and probably the most crucial parts of the story my mother tells me. During the exchange of words, the man couldn’t see inside the house but could hear a dog barking in the background. My mother recalls how Oreo’s bark wasn’t like his usual one. It is naturally a deep and loud bark; if you didn’t know what he looked like, you would think it was coming from that of a dog 20 pounds heavier. But on this particular day, she said it sounded as though Oreo was a dog weighing well over 100 pounds, like a Mastiff or some other huge guard dog.

It’s interesting how one decision can make a difference in future events. Had I decided not to keep him, who knows if my mother would’ve even had the encounter with that man. Or if it would’ve played out the same way.

I’ve always been a person of faith and believe that things happen for a reason. Maybe Oreo was meant to come into our lives for this very serious moment; maybe it was just a random occurrence. To me, It was divine timing and Oreo wasn’t just a dog at that moment, but rather a guardian dog of angelic proportions, or maybe like that of a hellhound.

Either way, I’m grateful that Oreo was there and louder than normal. Because at that moment, my mother was completely alone and something terrible could have happened and we could’ve lost her that day.

However, our small and mighty dog was the hero there protecting her.

As promised, here is a little fun fact I learned about raising a puppy.

Like a child observing their parents, anything they see you use frequently, like cords, controllers, books, shoes, etc. They will want to play with them also.

So, make sure that you keep them out of reach. Or be ready to replace them.