The answer was "of course," and just a few months later we began looking for the perfect puppy to come live with us. We found a litter born in January, not too horribly far from our home. It was across the border back in Minnesota, north of us a hour or so.
One night after school and work we drove over to meet the breeders, the mother and the litter of pups. It was a large victorian styled house and the dogs were all in the large, unfinished basement. The family who breed the dogs weren't professional breeders--they just loved their dog and thought it might be fun for their family to try. The human family had a number of kids, all of whom were asleep when we arrived.
My husband and I sat on the concrete floor, giddy over all the cuteness the came pouncing up to us. Some puppies slept, some ignored us, other gave us a greeting but then bounded off to do other things. The runt of the litter crawled up in my husband's lap and then bounced around on him for quite sometime. Our memory is that she stayed with us while most of the rest of them fell asleep (it was nearing 8 or 9pm). I don't remember anything else except looking back at house and feeling such joy upon finding this puppy.
A few weeks later we would pick her up outside a hockey arena in northern Minnesota. I had cashed in a number of savings bonds that my Great Grandmother had given me as payment for this new family member and I had the checkbook in my pocket as we stood in the frigid weather exchanging paperwork. The children of the family had named each of the puppies. The daughter, who was about 4 or 5, looked up at me as she told me our puppy's name--Annabelle. Something about the little girl and the way she handed me the puppy, made me decide to keep the name. I liked it and at the time had no consideration of the fact I might like the name, or a variation of it, for a human baby in years to come.
I changed the spelling to Annebelle--with an 'e.' I don't know why exactly. It felt more Scandinavian or more likely I just wanted to be...unique? I liked the idea of correcting her spelling at obedience classes. ??? In any case she has paperwork to prove her uniqueness and my nutso-ness.
This all took place ten years ago. The photo above shows her age, but her day to day health does not. Like all of us, she had a rough go of it in her teen years and even into her early adulthood. It is a darn good thing for her we never intended to hunt with her. She spent years in obedience training and did exceptional, except for the fact she won't sit or lay down in wet grass. She also has bouts of hives and allergic reactions to weeds, grasses and perhaps some foods. Don't get anyone started on her obsessive tenancies in ball retrieval. She loves a good snowfall. A light snow ball to the face is among her greatest joys. She's sweet and well behaved. She doesn't really snuggle or want to be around us---unless we have food or a ball, but due to loving Grandparents and a Dad who remembers to play and feed her each day, these last few years have been good ones for her. The click of her toenails on our floors is part of our family's soundtrack.
Happy Birthday, Annebelle. We love you!
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