Please save the date for the Richmond SPCA’s Progressive Dinner, presented by The Main Street Group on Saturday, April 25. This fun, annual event raises much-needed funds to support the homeless animals in our care and takes place in five of historic Monument Avenue’s most beautiful homes.
Before Larry became ours, we’re convinced someone loved him. That someone took the time to teach him to “Shake” and “Sit.”
Sadly, in the days before Larry became ours, we’re convinced a different someone abused him. That someone left him on a chain, neglected, sad and hurting in a backyard.
The day we met Larry, July 5th, 2010, his neck was bloody, hairless and raw. A few of his teeth were broken—presumably from chewing on that restrictive chain.
So after years of waiting and wanting a dog, the time was finally right for our family that July morning. As we crossed the Richmond SPCA threshold, we agreed—each of us had to like our pending pup equally. We neededto be honest about our feelings, and be prepared for this visit to be the first of potentially many attempts to make that perfect match. My husband, our twins’ dad, expressed his desire/hopes for a medium-sized, minimally shedding, and ideally, not white dog.
We all entered the SPCA expecting to meet “Austin,” a dog whose web-posted photo and described personality seemed a good fit for our crew. Upon walking in, we got the combined happy/sad news that Austin had found a home…one that wasn’t ours.
As we repeatedly walked the kennels, we were drawn to a few possible matches. With each walk down the loud-with-barking halls, a large, white, Samoyed mutt with a patchy coat silently raised his paw toward my husband, who acknowledged each effort with an obligatory, through-the-bars head pat.
We met “Amos” in one of the “get to know each other” SPCA living rooms. He was sweet, but not the one for us. We voiced an interest in meeting another medium-sized dog, only to discover he was a poor candidate for a family with two 8-year-olds.
Inexplicably, with his “don’t want large or white or sheddy” preferences being the only ones voiced, my husband Scott suggested, “Let’s meet Larry.”
The volunteer led Larry into the meeting room. Larry headed straightto Scott and placed his chin on his knee. Immediately, our son went over and began petting Larry —talking to him as if they were already friends. Our daughter found a brush and started to lovingly groom his unevenly shorn fur. In short order, I began sobbing.
We found our dog. Our Larry.
-Cheryl Lage and the Lage Family
Clients and Friends of The Main Street Group