My serendipity dog - Part 1

I think it was fate that Clyde came into our lives.  No, I don't really believe in that stuff but I can't deny all the pieces that have come together and made him a part of our family.

Clyde the Doberman, 2012

I've wanted a doberman since I was about 10 years old.  I had a colorful book about the many different types of dog breeds and this was the dog I wanted.  Why?  I'll admit it (hey I was 10!).  I wanted a Doberman because of the way they looked and what they represented.  I wanted a big, scary-looking dog for me to take out and walk around the neighborhood so the racist kids down the street would be too scared to say another word to me.  I stopped playing outside and riding my bike around because I didn't want to be accosted by those kids throwing garbage at me and shouting, "Ching-chong, ching-chong!  Go back to China!"  And for the record, I was born in Boston, not China.

After weeks and weeks of begging, my parents agreed to take me to the animal shelter.  And of course, I fell in love with the first dog I saw, a brown and white terrier-mix whom I named, Missy.  Back then, digital cameras did not exist, so I have very few digital photos of her.  ;)

Missy and me, 2004

Fast-forward to 2006.  Missy was gone but we had Diesel, a black and white pitbull-mix my brother brought home when I was a sophomore in college.

Diesel outside of my parent's house, 2005

I was going to graduate from college soon and move to North Carolina for graduate school.  Once again, I was obsessed with Dobermans (and this time, bought a real book on Dobermans).  I researched all of the doberman rescues in North Carolina and decided I would try to foster a dobe.  There was no way I could adopt (no rescue would adopt to me, a young graduate student) but I thought fostering might be a possibility.  But before I left Massachusetts, I realized I couldn't leave behind Diesel and start a new life with another dog.  With everyone else constantly working, Diesel didn't exactly have the most enriching first half of his life.  So it was decided.  Diesel was coming to North Carolina and my dreams of fostering dobes were pushed aside.  I like to think that Diesel had the best last 4+ years of his life with me, camping and traveling across the country, learning to fetch and swim, riding on boats, getting into all sorts of trouble and being the grumpy older brother to my newer puppy, Zoe.

Diesel and Zoe, 2009

Diesel died in 2010, a little over a year after I moved to Montana.  Over the next two years, it was just Zoe and a few foster dogs that came around for short periods of time.  Then early last year, we decided to really consider getting another dog.  Of course, my mind went back to dobermans.  They are pretty rare in Montana and this part of the country.  German shepherds, labs, pitbulls and other herding breeds seem to dominate in Montana.  I contemplated a breeder (there is one in the Missoula area who is supposed to be a reputable breeder) but the husband was not completely on board.

And then I remembered the Chesapeakes...another dog breed I was obsessed with.  Bryce jumped right on this because he wanted a dog to play fetch with.  So in a whirlwind month or two, I found a breeder who seemed reputable (health checks, hip tests and the like).  We paid a deposit early spring and was on the bottom of a waitlist for a puppy.  Chances were slim but there was still a chance.  Come mid-summer, the breeder decided to not breed anymore and returned the deposit.  Hm.

To be continued in Part 2...