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Or: How a dog named after an Irish beer ended up named after a
Peanuts character.
When we bought our first house in 1997, our first order of business was to get
a dog, and we ended up with a gal named Shwea. She was (and is) a delightful Lab mix, but quickly became a spoiled brat, so
in 1999 we (and our vet) thought a second dog was in order.
Our petsitter at the time, "Aunt" Nina, told us about a four-year-old male German
Shepherd mix who needed a home. As lesbians, we hesitated at the male part (sorry, guys), and as people, we thought German
Shepherds were scary. So we said, "No, thanks" to Nina.
A little time passed, and Nina tried again--this time telling us some of the sad, sad
story of the dog who was named Guinness. Turns out he was a next-door neighbor to Nina's sister-in-law, Brigitte. Brigitte
could see him from her kitchen window, and reported that Guinness was left outside and tied up in all kinds of weather.
She would go over and pet him, and got permission from the neighbors to take him for walks. She found out that he had
been dumped on her neighbors by their daughter, who moved down south but didn't have room to pack her dog. Brigitte made it
a habit of spending time with him, and one day she asked her neighbors if she might find a new home for him. (She couldn't
take him in since she was expecting her first child and knew her limits.)
The neighbors balked--at first.
Then one day Guinness ate a steak they had left unattended on the kitchen counter, and they were
furious. They wanted to have him put down for being "so much trouble." Brigitte
saw her chance, and asked them again if she could find him a new home. They agreed, and not long after, she and
Nina worked out a first meeting for us all.
When Brigitte brought Guinness to our home, their devotion to one another was obvious. He
was very afraid of us, and panted and paced around, never coming anywhere near either of us. But he would come to
Brigitte, and he seemed intent on staying close to her. So, while he gave us little to go on, something about
him and his affection for Brigitte tugged at our heartstrings. We said we'd like to take him (after we took a few precautions,
of course--see the list at right). For the record, at this stage, Linda was adamant that Linus would be Ann's dog and Ann's
responsibility (but that attitude didn't last long).
To make it easier for us to take this gamble, Brigitte, bless her heart, said that she would try to
find another home for him if ours didn't work out.
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| Our very first dog, Shwea |
How We Made Sure We Were Right for Each Other
Before we "officially" took Guinness in, we did three things:
1. Had him tested by a dog trainer
who specialized in German Shepherds, Pam Bock. She put him through several tests that were designed to make him testy, but he never got there.
While he tried to get away from her with all his might, he never nipped or growled or even showed his teeth.
2. Had him checked by a vet.
He passed with flying colors, except for being a complete nervous wreck (he never came to like the vet...and who can blame
him?).
3. Changed his name. It just so happened that one of Ann's favorite
drinks back in her bad old days was the famous Irish beer, so a name change was in order. (Besides, who wants to be heard
screaming "Guinness!!" by their neighbors?) Pam suggested we name him something that sounded like Guinness, and we came
up with Linus. It was a perfect fit.
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