Some bright spring-like sunshine warmed the day into a wonderful Saturday, leaving Thursday’s snowstorm nothing more than an occasional puddle or stream rippling across the road. It was February 28, normally the last day of the month. But it was a leap year, so that meant an extra day.
Anytime there’s an extra day, I find a way to get on my bike.
To celebrate the day I decided to take a leap and venture on a different route than normal, searching for more countryside than traffic. I happened upon Piney Road for only the third time — with its long, steep climb. This time, for a change, I decided to race down the hill instead of grinding up it.
Just before the descent, a white van creeped up behind me, hesitant to pass, so as I cleared the summit I pulled to the side to let them go.
About midway down the hill I realized I was gaining quickly on that van, which was a bit strange since I hadn’t seen any brake lights. I got within 300 yards, and suddenly it pulled away.
Then I saw what prompted the stop. A puppy in the road.
It was a small puppy. Not tiny, but small. Maybe six to eight weeks old. He was mainly black with distinctive brown features around his face and belly. He had a sliver of white on his brown belly, giving him a hint of Beagle. The tips of his paws had white toes. While his face showed signs of Rottweiler, there was enough of a hint of Beagle to keep some glimmer of hope alive.
The road has a number of Beagles up and down it. Down in East Tennessee, Beagles are very popular hunting dogs.
I rolled to stop. This puppy was far too small and too young to be out in the road and find his way home. He cowered a bit as I pulled up and bolted into the ditch. But he didn’t disappear deep into the brush. He began to whine, a near baby-ish howl, really, and eventually crept forward to smell my hand.
Piney Road isn’t a highway, but it’s plenty busy. With such a steep grade, traffic can get some serious speed going. He sat right at the end of a driveway, so it only figured that he had somehow wandered down the gravel on a little puppy adventure.
I picked him up and set my bike down at the end of the driveway. I hiked the 100 yards up to the house. As I came around the corner, I saw an old man sitting in a lawn chair.
“You missing a puppy?” I shouted before I got there, since he was wondering who was dressed in a sissy red lycra outfit strolling up his driveway cuddling a puppy.
“Nope,” he said.
We got to talking. He didn’t know any of the neighbors who had pups, but he knew on this warm day some folks had their Beagles running in the woods. He could hear them. He took a peek at the pup and figured it was a Beagle.
I headed back to the road and got back on my bike. I unzipped my sleeveless vest and stuffed him inside, holding him at the bottom with my arm like a running back carries a football. He poked his head out to see what was going on, but was very mellow and subdued. No frantic kicking or clawing or squirming. He actually nuzzled a bit, enjoying the warm contact with my body.
We continued up the road stopping at each homestead to find no one missing a Beagle pup. So we headed home. I faced about an hour ride home at puppy speed.
At first he had his head out, his nose in the wind. But a downhill felt a little too cold, so he buried his nose back inside and crawled in deeper looking for warmth. Then he fell asleep.
I had to make one or two stops to switch arms. Each time he was fast asleep. He’d wake for a moment, but close his eyes contently and quickly return to dreamland.
I made it home and poured some water. He was uninterested. The same for milk and a graham cracker. Well, at least the eating portion of the graham cracker. With tiny teeth breaking through, he enjoyed chewing on the cracker. So I got him a sock.
We sat around the driveway, slowly getting to know each other. I called Rae, our neighbor who used to work for a vet and has, oh, probably five or six dogs up at her place. I figured at least she could tell me what kind of puppy this was.
The more time we spent together, the more it appeared that this little guy wasn’t a stray who was fighting for survival in the woods. He was too clean. He wasn’t starving. Or thirsty. All he wanted to do was crawl up into my lap, bury his nose between my arm and side, and sleep.
My guess was that he was either an older Beagle, which would account for his mellowness and intelligence. Or he was a younger Rottweiler mix, which would account for his size.
When the girls got home, Sierra saw him right away. She said, “Daddy has a puppy!” Debbie took one look and turned her head away. According to Sierra she simply said, “Oh, my.” We’ve discussed it and decided that we would have to agree before we ever got a dog.
The girls were very skittish around dogs — especially Taylor. I figured at worst this would be our little test spin with a dog. Keep it around a few days and find it a good home. Then we’d know what the girls think about dogs.
Of course, they were petrified at first. But he was basically sleeping in my lap, so they petted him and were drawn by his softness and mellowness.
The girls came home early to paint the bird houses for the spring, before the birds make their nests. The puppy was waking up, and I took him out by the bird houses. Eventually I put him down in the grass, and he began to romp around. In a matter of minutes, they wanted to play with the puppy instead of paint the bird houses. They played tug of war with him and his sock. To this day those bird houses remain partially painted.
We fixed up a little sleeping box in the laundry room. The girls decided that he needed a name, even if he was only going to be around a few days. We thought about it a lot. Then I got an idea. “Leapyear!” It was perfect.
He ate his food. He nestled into his box and slept through our dinner. Then slept until the girls went to bed.
He woke up at 10:20, 1:20, 4:20, 5:20, 6:20 and was up for good at 7:20. Each time he whined I took him outside. Each time he peed in the flower bed, and twice he pooped. In the morning during breakfast he wanted to chew on everything. If I said no and tapped his snout, he sulked back to his box. Very smart pup.
The girls ran upstairs and got a plastic action figure from McDonald’s that they never play with. Leapyear loved that even more than his sock. Eventually he and I went out to spring clean up the garage. He was fine just roaming around. He never strayed too far. But he wanted to play.
So we did a lot of tug of war with the sock. I finally gave up and he grabbed that sock, tossed his head back into the air with pride and strutted around the corner of the garage. I had to laugh at how much he suddenly felt at home. I peeked around the corner, and he sat in the flower bed chewing away on his sock.
I went back to cleaning out the garage, and saw him stroll over to get his plastic toy. He picked it up and, head held high once again, disappeared around the corner. Sure enough, he had his sock and his toy, and was enjoying the warm sun in the flower bed.
I thought about my ride down Piney Road, and the lack of brake lights from the van. If they were driving down the road and suddenly came upon a puppy, they surely would have had to slam on the brakes. If they discretely coasted to a stop to, say, drop off a puppy, there would be no brake lights. I’m certain he got dumped right there in front of me. They must have been sure that someone on a bike would see him right away.
Around noon Rae stopped by. She took one look and confirmed that Leapyear appeared to be more Rottweiler than anything, but she was pretty sure from the streaks of white on the belly and paws, and the look of the face, that there was, bare minimum, some Hounddog mixed in, too.
She showed us some tests to see how he would be around children — mainly having him on his back and pinching his paws. He didn’t seem to mind either..
Rae told us that Rottweilers were originally bred specifically to protect and guard children. Only recently have people began to bred them as attack dogs, looking for bigger, meaner dogs. Still, a Rottweiler is not a beagle. That’s a bit too big of a dog for us. Besides, if Leapyear does turn into a 100-pound plus Rottweiler, he’s going to be the biggest lap dog in history. He just loves the lap.
We took a couple of pictures and made a poster. We put one up at the Post Office in Strawberry Plains on our way out to New Market. We figured we’d hit the playground on this warm spring day. It was well into the 60s and if you want to find someone to fall in love with a puppy, there aren’t many better places than the playground.
Before we got there we stopped at the Texaco in New Market to put a poster up in the window. They have fliers for firewood, cars for sale and other fun stuff. We walked in and Sierra showed the flier to the woman behind the counter. Her eyes lit up in a blaze. “Do you have him here?”
I went out to the truck and brought him in. He had been sleeping after following Debbie from flower bed to flower bed most of the afternoon. She took one look and said, “Can you come back at 7?” Sure enough, we said.
We thought about it and figured his name should probably be Lucky. He got abandoned right in front of someone who picked him up. He got a nice night with a nice family and then, boom, the first person we see decides to give him a home.
We went home and had dinner, packed up his box, his sock and his toy — along with the bag of puppy chow, and took him to his new owner. She came out after closing. Turns out she used to work for a vet, too, and knows plenty. She was sure it’s probably a Rottweiler mix, and she was fine with that. The girls said bye to him and we headed home, sharing stories of our weekend.
I could imagine that someday on some road I’ll be riding my bike and a huge Rottweiler will come screaming down a driveway after me, barking like a wild one and somehow I’ll know to stop instead of run, and Leapyear will leap into my lap and bury his nose in my jacket.
It’s strange how things work out. We had a little while before bed. Sierra started writing something. I asked if she wanted to watch a video. She said, ”Not until I’m done writing ‘Dog of my Dreams’.”
A few moments later she broke down in tears of sadness and needed a couple of hugs. She has a huge heart. Taylor was sad, too, although she still wasn’t sure she wants a dog around more than a day or so.
Maybe just once a leap year.
Time to ride.
