With the passing of our two old dogs, I thought adding a new dog to keep Margeaux company (who am I kidding, for Margeaux the Militant Chihuahua to boss around) would be very nice. One fewer dog to provision, one fewer dog bed to trip over, one fewer dog's poop to pick up. Yes, two dogs will be easy-peasy. So when I heard from Wendy at Central Coast Herding Dog Rescue that 14 Australian Cattle Dog (Blue Heeler) mixes had been seized by San Bernardino County Animal Control and taken to the infamous Devore shelter and were starting to be euthanized because they were scared and stressed in the chaos of the dog pound, I found myself driving over Cajon Pass in the howling wind and spitting rain/snow. Of course I did.

There was some excitement the day before because since the dogs were being released to a rescue and many were labeled "aggressive" they were required to be transported in hard-sided carriers/crates. I only had wire crates. A plea to the local FB and Nextdoor groups resulted in the loan of the needed crates, Landers locals come through in a pinch! I really was interested in a very cute little blue and tan girl called Sophie, and Wendy asked me to pick out one to foster for her. There was a cute tri-color boy called Shasta I picked for Wendy. The staff told me they couldn't handle Sophie without a catch pole, she would aggressively lunge and bite, and though they were able to vaccinate her, she was too wild to successfully microchip. I had to sign acknowledging all kinds of warnings about this dangerous creature. Shasta was scared but not labeled aggressive. They estimated she and Shasta were about 12 months old.

I took one look at her and just knew as our eyes met that this dog was stressed out of her mind and fighting for her life. She was putting "the best defense is a good offence" ploy to good use. I knew that feeling, it has served me well, and not so well many times in my life.

She and Shasta were beginning to relax after a few hours at home, and after a few days they were happy whole-body waggers that melted into wiggling piles of puppy joy for pets and attention. After calling Sophie Shasta a few times by accident, her name just morphed into Sasha, which suits her personality. She is smart, kind, and ball-obsessed. She does not have an aggressive bone in her body. We adore her, and I know that Red Dog sent her to cheer us up after he and Lillie left.

Wendy and I both remarked that Shasta was a slightly odd name for a male dog, but so be it. We (briefly) considered keeping him as well as Sasha. Shasta was a boisterous gallumphing kid, very smart, very fun dog, but just a bit too much for the peaceful balance I was aiming for. We would foster him for Wendy until she found him a home or a ride up to Paso Robles. A few days after their arrival I was loving on him and he flipped over for belly rubs. I was suddenly startled when looking closer at his under-carriage. Closer inspection revealed that Shasta, irrespective of the rambunctious attitude and paperwork from the pound saying MALE, was in fact quite definitely FEMALE.

Wendy arranged a ride to Paso in a private plane for Shasta with some friends who were spending a weekend in the Coachella valley. They landed at the little Yucca Valley airport and Shasta flew off to her latest adventure.

So the household is somewhat more peaceful with one fewer big puppy. Sasha is a radiating sunbeam of joy. I still miss my desert dogs. There's a depth of character and gravitas in an old dog that is so steadfast and grounding. But the circle keeps turning and each season in its turn has its own joys. There's nothing like the unbounded enthusiasm of a young dog to help you feel happy anticipation for a new day, and a new toss of a tennis ball.

Just when things were started to settle into an easy routine... (to be continued).