We are off for our annual Oscars trip. This year we are in Pequea, PA. Coincidentally about 40 minutes away from where we got both of our dogs, first Isabel and then, later, Lucy.
"Lucy, do you recognize the smell here? Do you remember this place?" I asked her as we drove near where she was born. She was in the back seat drooling and shaking; she is NOT a good passenger. Just asking that ridiculous question brought back a flood of memories for me.
We got Lucy from a breeder named Amos Fisher, an Amish guy, who lived on an idyllic looking farm with several charming, Amish children running around with the puppies. It was a beautiful scene. I could see it! Life with a cute, curly haired red doodle that followed all my directions, became a canine good citizen who loved to cuddle and was my best friend. We decided before picking up Lucy that we didn't want a completely submissive dog like Isabel had been. I felt we were ready for a more assertive dog this time; we knew what we were doing now...
Lucy was definitely a more assertive puppy. She would actively resist any commands. Tell her to come - she ran the other way. Show her where to go potty - she would hold it until she got somewhere else - anywhere else. Many times back in the house. She chased cars, bikes and our cats, she chewed the leash as we were walking, she would refuse to go into the crate, she was practically a cat the way she would resist the crate - spreading her legs out, wailing, trying to nip me. Once in, she would sigh, cry pitifully and look at me mournfully.
"How's puppy training going?" a neighbor asked me as Lu and I walked by.
"It's going," I replied as Lucy screamed by my side because I wouldn't let her get close enough to the neighbor to be pet. (Something she believes is her unalienable right as the cutest dog in the universe.)
"Lucy Fisher, what are we going to do with you?" I asked exasperated as I was luring her into her crate with a delicious treat (that she was trying her best to grab out of my hand and run away with).
From then on, she was "Lucy Fisher" whenever she was being recalcitrant.
Think about saying that name altogether over and over quickly. LucyFisher, LucyFisher, LucyFisher ... Lucifer. She often lived up to the name.
In time, the dream came true. Today Lucy is all the things I imagined when I picked her up. We understand each other now. I am the lucky owner of a cute, curly haired doodle who follows most of my directions (perfection is boring), is a canine good citizen (we have the certificate!), loves to cuddle and is my best friend.
"You should get another puppy. We're so close; you could get it on the way home on Monday." my sister in law said slyly while giving me the side eye.
"Umm... that's a no." I replied.
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