Why did you...

[Piper'sMom]

Such beautiful dogs!

[Labradorks]

I always loved dogs but we never had one. I actually did not like Labs all through my childhood and very early adulthood. All of the Labs I'd ever known were obnoxious, jumping outdoor dogs that stunk and were so annoying! Most of the Labs in the neighborhood killed chickens and ran away, either getting hit by cars or just were never to be seen again. Of course, this was a long time ago, I lived way out in the country and these were all BYB dogs. I had a boyfriend with a field bred petstore Lab and that dog only cared about balls. No affection, no personality, just balls. I didn't dislike the dog, but I was not interested in her either.

In my early 20s I had a roommate with two Labs. One was a conformation bred chocolate who was so sweet and well-behaved. He met me at the front door with my socks in his mouth every day after work. He was so endearing. The other dog was a field bred yellow who was a nightmare! He destroyed everything and could not sit still! When she moved out, I missed the chocolate Lab quite a bit and, wanting a dog, began searching for a similar Lab while trying to be careful to not get a Lab like her yellow or the ex-boyfriend's dog.

I went through a rescue, not knowing anything about breeders. The internet was brand-new at the time and I learned a lot about puppymills. I had also worked at a vet clinic for a couple years and learned about dogs that came from petstores. The rescue I wanted to go through would not adopt a dog to me because I rented, worked full-time and did not have a yard. I found a breeder in Dog Fancy magazine (ha!). Called her, talked to her for awhile, then drove out just to meet the puppies. Luckily, she was a good breeder of conformation style dogs. That dog was with me until he was nearly 17 and healthy his whole life.

Obviously, I fell in love with the breed. Ironically, I ended up serving on the board for the rescue that had denied me. I also fostered about 50 dogs for them throughout my tenure and several years later adopted a dog through them with my then-husband. Again, ironically, the dog we adopted was a field bred young male puppy mill dog bought from a petstore, yellow, and just like my roommate's dog that I couldn't stand. The dog was really his dog, so he stayed with him when we broke up. I did love the dog though!

[Tanya]

so many greats stories!

But this - just knocking at a strangers door to ask about their dogs and finding what will be lifelong friends? truly special!

To make a long story short, I went back 3 days later with food, a bowl, a leash, and a check to pay for Ella. I not only got an amazing dog, I made lifelong friends whom I consider family. The two Labs I have now came from that same Cotswold cottage, both related back to Ella. There really are no words to describe how special these dogs are to me, and how important my friendship with their breeder has been over the last 31 years.

[barry581]

I love these stories.

Our beloved Dalmatian, Patch, aged 12, had passed away. It was a horrible time trying to adjust to a house with no paws padding around. After about 3 months, while doing the dishes, I stopped and walked into the living room and told DH, I can't stand the house without a dog. I started looking. Had never had a lab or even knowingly seen one. Mom always had cockers, the last definitely from a BYB. They were always her dog and I never got close to any of them. Called a local lab breeder asking about pups; nope she did not have any but had a girl she was looking to place. She was 9. Besides her pups were what DH thought ridiculously priced, $1600-$1800. There was just something about this breeder and the way she talked about her girl, I had to meet both of them. DH said definitely no way; his heart was still hurting from Patch's passing; they were best buddies. I asked him to go just to meet the breeder who maybe would consider us for an upcoming litter. He definitely was not interested in a 9 year old saying she was too old, way too close to having to endure the pain we just went through. On a warm day we went and they brought out Potion, a beautiful black lab. She was not as much interested in playing ball as she was meeting us. She came up and sat in front of me, looked into my soul, and at that point I knew there was no way she was not coming home with us. She was the first puppy the breeder had kept from a litter as a show prospect and indeed did show and was on the fast track, doing very well. Then she snapped off a canine and that ended that career. Breeder kept her for breeding and she produced 2 litters, the second C-section and was not bred again. She lived in the loving home of the breeder until we met her. DH stood there stiff, trying to hold back. The breeder asked if we would like to take her for a walk and I suggested DH first. He grudgingly walked off with her and we all watched as his posture changed from stiffness to totally relaxed. When he came back he announced, "She peed for me", we're taking her home. We had nothing ready at home for her so two weeks later she joined us. From day one she took over our hearts (well she already had mine). Thus started our journey homing seniors.

Potion, with total patience and love, taught us about labs and we soaked it all up. When she was 11 I thought, she had always been around other labs, let’s get another. Before I even began my quest, a breeder from Iowa contacted me asking if I would be interested in a 10 year old she had. Melody had been kept by the breeder as a show prospect but had a pyometria, emergency spay, and was placed with a neighbor. Years later the neighbor unexpectedly passed away and Melody was taken by a daughter. The breeder kept a close eye on her and did not like the way she was being kept and pursued getting her back. We made the long trip, Potion in tow, with the hopes the breeder would approve of us. Melody came out of the house, a ray of sunshine, beautiful light yellow with caramel ears, that put an already sunny day to shame. She made her intentions known by trying to climb in the car. Like Potion, Melody so captured my heart with her smile and zest for life. She and Potion became instant buddies. When Potion passed, she was so distraught to the point of howling. Sooner than I had thought, I was looking for another.

Went back to Potion's breeder and yes she had a boy who needed a retirement home. Bandit joined us within weeks and what a gentleman. He was not too sure about tiny grandkids but soon realized they could be tons of fun. Melody was ecstatic to have a new buddy. Bandit was 8. Between the two, they took me to training classes more because I needed to learn and the classes required that there be a dog in the mix. He had been taken on nursing home visits by the breeder and we soon followed her lead. With amazing gentleness he greeted each resident spreading his special kind of love. At age 12 we went to a local dog event where they offered CDC tests. We had not trained for it but I thought what the heck. At that point he was totally deaf and absolutely aced the test. At this point Melody was encountering multiple medical problems and one evening I knew she was telling me life had gotten too hard and we had to let her go.

Bandit did OK as an only but I wanted him to have a companion. Again, we visited another local breeder who had a 7 year old girl, Mardi Gras. Met her and she was a hoot, the perfect Bourbon Street, New Orleans, personality her name suggested. As a companion to Bandit she was perfect, giving him a little zip in his step. Bandit developed a lump on his lower front leg which turned out to be cancer and 8 months later, left us.
Mardi had her challenges, a very arthritic hip and knee on opposite sides; surgery was out of the question. When we decided to get another senior, DH suggested a GSD. What! I knew nothing about them, training, personality, etc. Since I had picked all the others, we made a trip to a GSD “breeder” where we met Archie, he’s 8 now. Unlike GSD’s, he was open, quick to approach seeking love and pats. But his mouth smelled horrible. DH wanted him but I warned him what we were getting into, major dental work and bills. Archie and Mardi got along very well so he came home with us. Indeed, he mouth was a mess. Three surgeries, 9 teeth extracted, bone work on his jaw later, he is a happy, velcroed to me dog. Very different in personality but so loving and devoted.

Wow, that got long and I could go on and on and on about homing seniors. Hey, we are no spring chickens ourselves and seniors work perfect in the mix. IMHO, they are the best of the best.

Fran your journey brought tears to my eyes. When I lost Clancy back in '97, I called my friends in the UK to see when the next batch of puppies was coming. They told me that it would be at least 2 years, as they both had judging engagement in various places around the world. They told me about a breeder in PA who had dogs from them. I contacted her, and it started me on a path of adopting older dogs who for various reasons needed a good home. I spent years working in the rat race, and couldn't realistically have raised a puppy while working 65+ hours a week. These were all great dogs, and we filled a need for each other. The needed a home, and I needed a Lab (or two!) in my house.

My heart goes out to you and your DH for doing what you do. You give all these dogs a wonderful home, and they love they need to thrive.

[smartrock]

How great to read the stories of how our pups joined our families!

I grew up with dogs, some purebred, some mixes, all different breeds- boxer, German Shepherd mix, Dobe, and my parents had others after I left for college, never the same breed. Our boxer was just the sweetest, smartest pup friend any kid could hope for and I considered her my dog. She died when I was about 9 years old. When I got married we decided to get a boxer- found an ad in the local paper and drove off to the home of the epitome of a backyard breeder. There were 3 pups left, all girls. They tried to get us to take all 3 puppies, $150 for the first, $125 for the second and $100 to take the 3rd. We brought home 2 of them, littermates, backyard bred in all senses of the word. We did take them to obedience classes and they knew the commands and would do them if the mood struck. Poor girls, we both worked full time and it took a long time for them to get house trained because starting at 9 or 10 weeks, however old they were, they were home alone, uncrated for probably 10 hours a day. They were sweet dogs, loving with our babies, but not the brightest bulbs. They died within 2 weeks of each other at about age 8. We're not sure what Bridget died from, her heart rate went up to over 200 one night and the vets were not able to normalize it and she died in heart failure. Brandy died of lymphoma just 2 weeks after Bridget died. We were pretty devastated.

Our next 2 dogs were bullmastiffs, Magpie and Jack, that we got from a local breeder. My husband had recently read a book in which the main character had a bullmastiff, so that's what he wanted. And since the breeder had 2 1 year old dogs available and we'd already had 2 dogs, why not bring home 250 pounds of dog when we also had 2 children under the age of 4? Good thing those dogs were so low energy because I didn't have much left at the end of the work day. They both died pretty young. I was especially heartbroken when Magpie had to be put to sleep at age 7. She had an osteosarcoma and was in pain and we just knew we had to let her go before her leg broke from the tumor. I wanted to get another dog and wanted to get a different breed but the breeder we got our bullmastiffs from had a new litter of 13 puppies, so Teddy came home to be ours too. He was a sweetheart, loved by our kids' friends despite his imposing size and countenance and was a favorite of the vet's staff. He would often hang out behind the counter acting as the local greeter if we had to board him there. Teddy died at age 8 and I just couldn't face getting another dog right away, especially one with so short a lifespan. But then...

We spend a lot of time at the beach in the summer, always in the same neighborhood. One of the neighbors had a lovely black lab named Shadow who was a water retrieving beast. He would come down to the beach at the end of the afternoon and swim out over and over to bring back his ball. I figured we love the beach, we should get a dog that loves the beach. Along came Chase, who loves the beach if by loving you mean loves grinding sand into his coat as he rolls around, scratching his back and his face in the sand, and lounging in the surf. Retrieve a ball or toy from the ocean or sound? Um, No! But that's fine. At age 9 he acts like a frisky pup when we get to the beach place, whether he's actually on the beach or just making his arrival known by happily delivering his "p-mail" as we walk through the neighborhood.

When Chase was 6 we decided it was time for a second pup- he seemed happy enough as an only child but we thought he "needed" a sibling. Enter Lark, a jumping, nipping bundle of energy, who turned his world upside down as siblings are prone to do. When we met the breeder and Lark, she told us there was another couple looking at her as well, so the pressure was on to see if it was a good fit. However, when Lark came into the room, she ran right over to me and sat down on my feet, looking up at me. That was it. She knew, I knew, and the breeder knew that Lark was meant for us. And in Lark we have our little ocean retriever- fearless jumping through the breakers and determined to bring back her bumper no matter what. Chase has no interest in getting the bumper but he's like the football player who blocks for the ball carrier, he'll swim along side or just in front of her to make the path clear.

That covers about 32 years of owning dogs for us. Will we get another lab before all is said and done? Since we'd love for these 2 to live forever, we'd like for that not to be an issue. So far Chase has outlived all our other dogs and we'll just have to see what happens. I want to always have dogs, so, we might move in the direction PopTop has gone and see if we can find a nice adult who needs a good home when one of ours dies. But hopefully we'll have several good years before that decision becomes a reality.

[Meeps83]

My first dog, Tasha, was a true Heinz 57 farm dog. When I was about 4 my aunt and uncle had a dog (Australian Shepherd Mix) get out and meet a nice Lab/German Shepherd mix. I picked out one of the puppies and there we were. In that day, farm dogs lived outside. We didn't do inside dogs, but Tasha always had a warm spot to live in the heated garages throughout her life. She was a good dog, definitely loved to herd things and hunt birds. She was diagnosed with cancer when she was 12 and passed shortly later.

My brother and I knew we wanted another dog, and so did my mom. My dad wasn't ready for one at the time. One day my mom found an ad in the newspaper for a German Shepherd/Husky mix pup. My mom, brother, and I went to this house and talked to the owners. They said that mom had died during childbirth and they hand raised the puppies. We instantly fell in love with a little female who we later named Dakota. She came home with us and was the best puppy. She slept in her crate and absolutely adored us, especially my dad. She followed him everywhere. When she was 6 months old she followed my dad to the far edges of the front yard where he was placing a car for sale. She walked across the street under the culvert but came back over the road. She died instantly. We were devastated. It was the type of devastation that can only be healed by the love of another dog.

A few short weeks later we started the search for another puppy. We went to shelters, we clipped ads from newspapers and contacted sellers. One afternoon I picked up a copy of a Pet Fancy magazine and saw an ad for an Alaskan Malamute breeder. We wanted a dog similar to Dakota but not Dakota. We liked the nordic look and the size. We called this breeder and he had 2 litters of puppies! When we got there the mother jumped in our car and she was gorgeous. When we got into the house though, not so great. He had a 10 week old female that was terrified of everything. He had a bunch of other puppies that were younger in with her. There was poop and pee everywhere and they were eating from the food bag at will. This female, who we later named Nikita, was upset and barked at us the whole time...until we sat down and offered her a cuddle. She loved us and she was beautiful. Throughout her life, she had numerous issues. She didn't like to eat, she had severe cataracts, she had severe separation anxiety. Eventually she began fear biting and other fear aggression problems. This was devastating as she had been socialized with people and dogs for her entire life. She had gone to training and had been given everything. Her biting got so bad that she had to be PTS. We couldn't keep her as a liability and she was unpredictable.

While we had her, we decided that for the first time ever, we would be a 2 dog household. We contacted another breeder, this one a responsible breeder that truly cared for her dogs. We got a 12 week old male Alaskan Malamute named Kody. Kody was the best puppy. He was potty trained when we got him and was the exact opposite of Nikita. He absolutely loved people and female dogs. He was calm, good natured, and friendly without being "in your face". The breeder is still a friend. When Kody was nearly 7 he got really sick and ended up dying. They don't know what the official diagnosis was, but he had almost a zero percent chance of survival even going to the UW veterinary hospital and my parents opted to put him down. They still have not gotten another dog and it's been over 6 years, however I'm pretty sure they'll go with a lab.

Now in the mean time, I started college and met my future husband. We moved into a house and decided to get a dog. I decided that I wanted another Alaskan Malamute and DH was cool with it. We contacted Amanda, the same breeder my parents had gotten Kody from 4 years earlier and she was a few weeks out from having a litter of puppies on the ground. We got "first pick". I say that with air quotes because 4 of the 6 ended up being show dogs and the two that weren't had a disqualifying coat type. Nikko was what is known as a "soft coated" Alaskan Malamute. He had long gorgeous hair. He was sweet, smart, happy, loyal, friendly, and good natured. When he was 6 months old we decided that we absolutely had to have a second one. We contacted Amanda again and she had a breeder friend that had a litter of puppies. This girl was kept back as a possible show prospect, but they changed their mind. When she was about 14 weeks old, Mia joined our family. Nikko and Mia were best friends. There is no other way to describe them. They were inseparable. When Nikko was 6 he caught a horrible virus that almost killed him. A year later he was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma and lasted not quite 2 months before we had him PTS. We knew we wanted another dog, but our time with Malamutes was over. They are fantastic dogs, but at this point in our lives we wanted a dog to go hiking, biking, camping, and fishing with. We wanted a dog to love us more than anything, that loved all people and animals, and would enjoy all of the things we did because we wanted a companion.

We decided on a lab. All of the personality traits that we loved about Nikko were atypical for a malamute. They were more lab traits. When we got Maverick, Nikko had been gone for not quite three months. Mia was almost 8. We weren't sure she would like him, and if she were still here she might deny it, but she really did like Maverick. Maverick felt the same about her. Mia was...crusty and cranky. She was very particular about what she wanted and when. She was not affectionate or a cuddler. She was more cat-like than dog like. She loved mom and dad's house and she loved staying there when we went on trips. She was a good protector and a great dog. She had a mysterious illness, probably cancer, and within 3 days she went from being happy and healthy to struggling for breath. She was PTS at the beginning of October.

No Maverick, he is the most fun dog I've ever owned. I have been taking him to classes since he was 2 months old, we walk off leash, we hike, we've had him camping and on the boat, he loves travelling, he loves the golf cart, he goes to family events, and he sleeps with us. He is exactly what we were looking for and we'll probably never go back.

[CraftHer]

Love to hear these stories.

Our very first family dog as a kid was a beagle/shepard mix named King George. I always thought the children's rhyme "Georgie Porgie Puddin Pie" was about a dog instead of a boy.

My first dog as an "adult" (I was 18, so technically, I was an adult) was a cocker spaniel named Boo. I didn't know you were supposed to train dogs (other than potty training), so he was a mess (and so was I). But he was about 22 pounds, so I could just pick him up in a bad situation. He went everywhere with me and was my constant companion for 15 years. He was the only constant through some very rough times. I still dream about him.

Fast forward to today. DH (Sparky) always wanted a chocolate lab. He just loved the look of their face, their temperament, their intelligence and even their size. So, he mentioned it to his Dad's neighbor who worked with a girl who had a Lab with a litter of puppies. 8 chocolate boys and one yellow girl. Sparky asked "Do you want to go look at them?" I said "No, there is no looking. We need to decide if we're going to get a dog. If so, then we'll go pick one out." I knew there is no such thing as "just looking" at a litter of sweet little puppies So that's how we got Mocha. Mocha is all those things we wanted in a lab and more. He's just such a great dog! I learned my lesson with Boo and was determined we would train Mocha and we did (with the help of this board, PetSmart training class, several books and trail and error). I'm so glad we got him and glad we found this board to help me through the puppy stage (biting) to get to the wonderful dog we have now.

[kimbersmom]

I love reading everyone's dog autobiographies!

Growing up, people around me had dogs that mostly lived outside. My uncle had a series of huge German Shepherds that he kept in a pen who scared me to death. In junior high I delivered newspapers and I met a lot of large dogs barking their heads off, flinging themselves against the door when I rang the bell. I was in my mid-20s before I met a gentle, indoor dog. She was a sweet cocker spaniel who came up to me for petting, and I clearly remember thinking, "Wow, dogs can be nice."

DH loves animals and grew up with small dogs. After we got married, we started talking about dogs in a very hypothetical way. For a while, we were content to just have pretend pets, who would have all kinds of adventures with us. We liked the idea of a dog but we both worked long hours and it didn't seem viable. But in our "someday" conversations, we settled on a lab; he had met a lab mix that he loved. When we'd go to Barnes and Noble, , I'd read books about labs. We went to a local dog show and looked at the labs. In 2005, his job ended and he decided to take some time to figure out what to do next. First he gutted and remodeled part of our house. When that was done, he pitched the "puppy" idea. He'd be home to take care of it, so the timing was ideal. We checked the local lab rescue but they had no puppies available. Then we asked a local vet, who suggested we look in the newspaper. And while I was away at a conference, he found an ad, went to see the puppies, and put down a deposit! The day after I got home, we drove to the breeders. I now know it was a total BYB operation. Mom was sweet as could be; the litter (it was huge- kimber was one of 10 surviving puppies) was in an outside pen; Dad had been purchased from a pet store to 'widen the breeding lines'; owners were placing the puppies even though they had just turned 7 weeks. I didn't know these were red flags, andt of course once you SEE the puppies it's nearly impossible to not take one home, and we'd been talking about getting a puppy for about 3 years. So Kimber came home with us. She was a nightmare of a puppy- she was bitey and hyperactive and hated being touched. But with lots of training classes and patience, she turned into the wonderful lab everyone on this board assured me she'd become!

[ccetta]

My story is similar to Piper's Mom. My kids were grown and out of the house and evidently I still needed to take care of someone or something other than my husband. I had a yellow lab growing up who was the sweetest girl; I loved her & the breed ever since. One summer Saturday I was at my computer e-mailing breeders in the area and one responded almost instantly and said they had lab puppies ( I now know, thanks to this board that they were not the best place to get a dog). Anyway DH & I to look a ride and first looked at chocolate puppies that were about 6 weeks old & would be ready to take home in 2 weeks. They were adorable but then they brought Lucy to meet us. She was almost 4 months old and a leftover from a previous litter. I couldn't believe no one wanted her! I knew she was the one for us & I was so right. She makes us smile every day. My husband told me the other day that he loves coming home to her enthusiastic, body wiggling greeting every day!

[Abulafia]

It's a little hard for me to talk about, but basically:

I grew up with dogs. My first was a poi dog—a mix of some sort, small-medium sized, short yellow fur, incredibly sweet, though I have only vague memories of her, because it was in my earliest years. Our next dog was a Lab / Dalmatian mix, and we just lucked out with her. She was gorgeous, kind, and incredibly loving. I began to train her w/ my dad; she loved obedience classes, and excelled. We probably could have moved her into agility—she was smart, fast, and coordinated—but didn't. But boy, was she a marvelous dog. Best friends with our cats, just wonderful.

Our next dog was "my dog," an Irish Setter I'd saved up for and bought myself when I was 15 or so. In retrospect, it was a dumb purchase (and boy was my dad angry), but all I knew was that I loved Irish Setters, and I wanted one. As it turned out, she was great personality-wise—not hyper or crazy—but seemed to resist house training her whole life, and she chewed shoes obsessively. She was gorgeous and funny and I loved her. But her breeding (inasmuch as the Irish gene pool is to limited) also resulted in some health problems. I had to leave her at home when I moved to college—by then, of course, my parents were deeply in love with her. But one day she was doing poorly, and they took her in to discover that one of her kidneys was failing—and that the other had failed long ago. She died the next day.

I hadn't even known she'd been taken to the vet, but I'd had a dream that night—from her perspective—that she'd been taken to the vet and my dad had said "goodbye" to her. And then that he called me to tell me she'd died.

The next morning, I got that phone call. I was heartbroken. Devastated. It is in large part due to losing her, in 1994, that I had to wait so long for a dog.

A year or so later, my parents got another black lab, a male this time. I was transitioning into grad school. By then my parents were fairly ill, and this poor dog never got the training or all the exercise he deserved. My dad loved, loved, loved him, but his health was failing, and he simply couldn't take the dog on the walks (and hikes) they both wanted and needed.

Both of my parents died in 1998, one a few months after the other. I was in grad school at the time, and emotionally incapable of dealing with closing up the estate (had to sell the house, ship everything over to me and my brother, etc.). We had to rehome one cat, and the dog. I don't know where the dog ended up. I believe he went to family friends. I was living in Berkeley, in a tiny apartment, so there was no possibility I could take him. But frankly, that haunted me for years and years. It still does, actually. It fills me with guilt, and brings back a horrible time in my life.

Our animals always had Hawaiian names (I was born and raised in Hawaii; my father was fluent). 'Momo' was the poi dog; 'Pili Aloha' ("Loving Companion" —we called her 'Pili') was the Lab / Dalmatian. 'Kawena i ka maka o ka opua' ("The rosy glow on the face of the cloud bank" —'Kawena' [pronounced 'KaVEHna'] for short) was the Setter. Kamalu ("The Shade / Fortress") was the Lab male. Whenever we got a dog, my father would sit and think, then look some things up, and think some more, and then give the name. It was almost ceremonial.

The loss of my beloved (goofy) Setter, and then having to rehome my parents' lab after their somewhat unanticipated deaths left me in a dog shock that it has taken decades to move out of. Frankly, I was not sure I wanted to love something that much again, because the pain of loss is so great.

But now I have a son (11), and a house with a nice—not huge, but fine for a city—fenced yard. I'm solidly employed, a good career, and live in a city with loads of parks and water nearby. I used to be gone overseas every summer, and used that as a "we can't get a dog" excuse. We have two cats, one about 17 years old, and I used them as excuses as well. I used almost everything as an excuse for why we couldn't get a dog.

About a year ago, I was at the beach with my family and a colleague. The colleague looked at my son running around on the beach, and said "he needs a dog. He REALLY needs a dog." I came out with my typical excuses, which had become increasingly feeble sounding even to me. And I'd met a few dogs more recently that had begun to melt what I'd tried hard to keep frozen.

I came back from the beach—it was August 2014—and said, "I am going to start researching Lab breeders." My husband said "excuse me?" and my son protested that he wanted a ... I don't know. Something tiny and yippy and cute. I responded "No, I am sorry. It will be a Lab, because that is all I will have. And it will have a Hawaiian name."

I researched for about five months before contacting our breeder (I'd contacted one other, but didn't pursue an application). No puppies available at the time, and I said I'd wait. First little had take-home timing that clashed w/ me being abroad (and I was working, so couldn't come back early), so I asked to hold off for the next one—two months later—so we could all be at home for when the pup came.

When we went to get her, I was about to pass out. When she was handed over, I started crying. I was shaking so hard I could barely fill out the final paperwork (non-spaying until 18 months; no breeding; surrender if we couldn't care for her, etc.).

And while she has a kennel name, I researched and chose her Hawaiian name. She is "Hoku" ("Star") for short, but her full name is "Hokule'a," which is Hawaiian for "Star of Gladness," and is the Hawaiian name for Arcturus, which was the main navigational start used to guide the Hawaiians back from from their seafaring. I can't believe I did without her for so long.