Meet Ginger

Sanctae Familiae Villa's lovable,  junk-yard dog.

No homestead is complete with out man's best friend. Even though Ginger is our great friend her start with us was anything but great. We got Ginger when we lived in our house in the city. She was a puppy that was posted on free-cycle (a sort of give away site - which now I believe has banned the posting animals). I saw a photo of this Boxer-Rottweiler X litter posted and thought they were so cute. I just had to have one. We already had a Retriever Mix and she was getting older. Since dear hubby really likes big dogs it was easy to convince him. Besides we lived in the city, our family needed protection and it just happened to be around the time of our son's birthday. She was a puppy so we train her to be our guard dog and we would train her to be great with children. We trained our previous dog and she was great. So we were really prepared. 

Ginger keeps an eye on things.

Yeah, prepared! Ginger was the worst puppy in the history of worst puppies. No, I am not exaggerating! She chewed on and through everything. She suffered from separation anxiety; so on the rare occasion of us actually leaving our house, she would freak out. Upon our absence we tried crating her, only to return home to blood and vomit all over the crate . . . yuck! We tried locking her in the bathroom and she chewed through walls. We even tried chaining (chain not rope) her to a tree outside; which resulted in her breaking off, running around the neighborhood and trying to get on a school bus. I then had to bail her out of the pound. Her episodes continued to grow while Rob's patience began to shorten. "She has got to go!" he shouted. I began to protest "but she is so lovable . . . the kids love her . . . she was Donovan's birthday present" I cried. But soon I came to realize he might be right. We found Ginger another home.

  

 One month went by and the tears began to lessen,  when all of a sudden, the man we gave Ginger to pulled into the driveway. "You !@#$@, take this !@#$%# dog back." "Okay, sorry" . . . was all I could reply. He drove off . . . this big goofy dog, was so sweet, so tender but so much trouble. "God answered my prayers" my son cheered. I wasn't sure his dad would feel the same way. Yikes, I had to tell Rob she was back. 

Rob, called at his lunch time which he usually did  . . ."How's everything?" he asked. "Just fine, fine,  . . . uuuuummmmm . . . Ginger is back." I said. Silence. "Um, did you hear me?" I asked. "Yeah, I heard and I was already having a really bad day. How did this happen?" I proceeded to explain and then ended with "Who else but us will learn to work with this dog". " Yeah, who else but us . . ." was all he could muster. 

Ginger races her little dog-sister Bonnie.

The next few years were filled with many eventful moments. She jumped through a glass window to greet Jehovah Witnesses. When we were out she rummaged through kitchen cupboards, not to eat anything just to scatter beans and flour around the kitchen floor. One time she even covered the entire kitchen floor in canola oil  and another time she got her head stuck under a microwave cart only to pull the whole thing down . . . have you ever seen a microwave go poof? Oh yeah, many eventful but good times. 

Soon we laughed at her moments and learned patience and detachment to material goods. Wow, she actually started to teach us something. I soon began to think this dog was a gift to us from God. And that is exactly what she has become to us a gift from God. 

Ginger, the 100 pound, drooling, 7 year old dog has grown into the most fun, lovable, adorable, relaxed, protective, gentle and wonderful dog. She is obedient and kind. She is great with people, big and small. She is watchful of the farm animals and great with all the small ones she is around. There is nothing this dog would not do to please our family including a big sloppy kiss. She is our chief herder, guardian, and as we like to call her our junk-yard dog. She has adapted to all the moves we have made and now is so happy her on our homestead. Sanctae Familiae Villa would not be complete without this great dog.

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