As every pet owner knows, the worst day of the special bond between a human and his canine is having to say goodbye. We lost the best dog ever last year when our big Golden Retriever, Walter, succumbed to cancer. Things were just not the same anymore. It was too darn quiet. His absence left a void in our hearts. It’s difficult to explain, but who would ever want to go through with that again?
That all changed on Leap Day when I inquired about a dog available on Craig’s List. I talked to Ramon in Menifee to find out why he wanted to rehome a 1-year old English Crème Golden Retriever pup named Nalalita. Well, he explained, the sire and dam had produced another litter and Nalalita was quickly coming into her first heat. Her sire, “Diddy” began wagging his tail too much toward his young female progeny and using AKC (American Kennel Club) terminology, she was one hot little bitch. Ramon sent me pictures and—she was just as described.
I texted my wife, Jo Ellen, who had no idea I had been looking for a new Golden in the first place, and without hesitation she responded, “Let’s get down to Menifee right now.” The 90-minute drive felt like we were travelling to the middle of nowhere.
We pulled up to a ranch on a dirt road. Next to the house was a barn with about two or three acres fenced off for horses and what appeared to be six or seven dogs. Ramon met us at the gate and let us in. On the far end of the field was a bolt of white lightning circling the fence line with a severe case of the zoomies (another AKC term). As we talked, he called the dog over, calling Nalalita in a high pitched, song-like voice. Four other dogs and even a horse rambled over to us, including Old Jose, a 150 lb. black lab that looked a bit like Jelly Roll without tattoos. The little white dog could care less and was distracted, jumping in and out of an old tractor tire. Nalalita? His enunciation was poetic, rolling his L’s like an Antonio Banderas pudding salad. Ramon was chuckling under his breath as he listened to a couple of Gringos trying to call this dog over… “Natalie… Nakanita…Margarita… Nalala….” Hey, BTW, it’s a well-known fact that white people do not have the lip and tongue muscles in their DNA to correctly accent many Spanish words, comprendre?
The puppy was very cute, a small female with a carefree attitude. Jo Ellen made the decision, instructing me to pay the $300 and she would get the leash from the car. At this point, Ramon felt it important to interject, “She doesn’t have a collar.” “Huh?” we smartly responded. “What do you mean?” “She’s a ranch dog,” he said. Not wanting to sound naïve or attempt any humor about Weinerschnitzel, we asked: “what is a ranch dog?” The details started coming from Ramon. Nalalita has never worn a collar or been on a leash, she’s never been in a house, she is outside all the time and sleeps in the barn, she has had no training and has never been given treats or toys. Well, who can argue with that background? Not Jo Ellen. “Let’s get her in the car,” she said. Ramon cradled her into the back seat. As we thanked Ramon, he asked if we brought towels. “No, why?” Well, she’s never been in a car and will probably vomit on the way home, he said.
