Search

The One About Cowboy

Updated: Jan 23

In this first episode, hear the story of how Just Add Dogs Podcast, founder, Lindsay found and adopted her first rescue dog, Cowboy and how it started her on her dog rescue journey. At the end of the episode she highlights a Weimaraner in need of a home!


Now onto the main attraction. Zoe! This sweet 7 yr old girl, Zoe, came from a shelter in Kansas where she was picked up as a stray! She is a sweet sweet girl, a true cuddler and pretty chill lady. She is good with other dogs and people of all sizes, but no thanks on the cats please! Zoe is housetrained, walks nicely on leash and is a very steady lady (possibly has a little labr

ador in her). She is a little overweight currently, so will need a family willing to walk her and help her trim the pounds off. Could she find a couch to surf on in your home?


You can find out how to adopt Zoe at mhwr.org and follow Mile High Weimaraner Rescue on Instagram at @milehighweimrescue


The purpose of Mile High Weimaraner Rescue is to find loving, permanent homes for unwanted or abandoned Weimaraners, by preparing prospective families for responsible dog ownership through education and support and by helping companions through training and behavior modification.


Mile High Weimaraner Rescue is located in the Denver, Colorado metropolitan area and is run by, supported by and exists, thanks to a tireless group of dedicated volunteers.



Read the transcription below!


Cowboy Adoption Story


Welcome to episode 2 of Just Add Dogs, where we get to hear the stories of how rescue dogs got a second and sometimes a 3rd or 4th chance and finally found their forever homes.


Today I’m going to share with you one of my rescue stories. The story of my very first rescue dog, my good old boy, Cowboy.


I picked up Cowboy, then called Dusty, a nervous two-year-old weimaraner from a lady in a big truck at the Circle J parking lot off the highway in northern wyoming, just outside the Montana border.


Next to those tractor trailers puffing out fumes, travelers filling up on gas and grabbing a bag of Mike and Ike’s and a soda for the road, people stopping to stretch their legs or walk their dogs or rush their kids into the nearest bathroom. The large parking lot was busy with movement, with pulling in and pulling out, everyone coming or going because it wasn’t a place you stayed in. It was a place to stop at and then move on.


I’d driven up there by myself, while my family--four kids under 4 and husband--waited at home. Our Ford explorer ate up the 10 hours of road beneath me, while books on tape played through my stereo one after the other.


I’d stopped the night before at a roadside hotel, a little better than the Bates Motel, to sleep, though you could hardly call what I got that night “sleep.” I spent the night tossing and turning, worried and excited, terrified and thrilled.


As a writer, I have a natural gift for imagination which is both a blessing and curse.


So that night, I imagined everything from our new dog attacking one of my kids, to saving them from an avalanche at the last moment.


I worried that I wouldn’t be a good owner or that he wouldn’t like us and wish he was with someone else.


And Dusty, that was what the rescue named him, had been bought as a puppy, given up for adoption, given back to the rescue, adopted again, found as a stray, and when he was found, his family didn’t want him anymore so he was transferred to the rescue in Montana where I found him.


That’s a lot for a two year old dog to go through. Abandonment, uncertainty, fear, mistrust, attachment issues?


What baggage was he bringing with him, and would I be able to help him unload it?


I thought, “well, I can just turn around and go back home and the dog I was supposed to pick up would find another family, probably one better than me.”


And also, I had four kids under 4--yes, my oldest was 4 and my youngest was 1. Am I crazy to bring another being that I had to take care of into our home?


Yes, and no. Because it was a crazy that I desperately wanted.


But then my heart would expand at the thought of having a dog in our home, sleeping by the fire, running beside me on the mountain trails, going with us on walks or other places and being a part of our memories as a family as my family dog Buzz had been for my sisters and my parents and I.


And I hadn’t rushed into this. I’d looked and researched different breeds and different rescues, acknowledging what I couldn’t do or what I didn’t want and recognizing and pinpointing everything I did want.


And it wasn’t wrong. It was only all that was right.


That next morning, rubbing sleep from my eyes and stretching out legs that were sore from a whole lot of sitting, I hopped back in the car and drove the remaining hours to that rest stop.


My heart pounded, looking around me at the trucks and cars people and wondering which one my dog was in.


“Are you Lindsay?” a voice asked.


A small woman with curly hair, jeans and a tshirt stepped over in the hot sun. “I’m Teresa, from the German Short-hair Rescue in Montana. I’m here with Dusty.” She waved over toward a truck with the back hatch open, allowing the breeze in and through.


We made small talk, but to tell you the truth, I didn’t hear a word of it. I had a brand new leash and a collar in my hand and I just wanted to meet my dog. But I had to sign some papers and wrote a check for the adoption fee and then she opened the back, unlatched the cage and my dog--my boy--hopped down.


He was 2 years old and a perfect, nervous, whining boy that had no idea what was happening.


Teresa and I chatted for a few more minutes and before I knew it, Dusty--Cowboy--was sitting beside me in the front seat as he and I began the long journey home.


He whined and circled in the seat as I cried both tears of “oh my gosh, did I just do the wrong thing” and “Oh my gosh, he’s perfect.”


I talked to him, saying his new name over and over together we ate up all the miles back to Breckenridge.


I remember pulling up to our house, my husband walking out the door, my youngest on his hip and my other kids scattering around the gravel pathway, so excited to meet him. Our dog.


Once inside our home--his home--he paced and whined and ran in circles through our kitchen, living room, dining room and back, hardly giving us the chance to pet him.


He would do that pacing whenever things were different or he was insecure or scared the rest of his life.


He fit right in, claiming a chair in my husband and I’s room, laying on his bed by the fireplace, following me wherever I went--because whatever I did was something he wanted to do together.

He’d greet us at the door with barks and tail wags, stayed close to the house, barked at the bears and moose, and was always up for a walk, a hike, a ski, or a run.


He was a good boy, kind and gentle and happy and always a little nervous if something was a little different in his day. He ran with me every single day for years, went skiing with us in the early mornings, took evening walks with us in snow and rain and sunshine. He ate two gingerbread houses, caught a few squirrels, threw up every Thanksgiving, brought home an elk leg on one of our runs, and had his own special gingerbread man toy and his own special song.


He set the tone for all the others I would adopt after.


I told him, after bringing each one of them home, that it wasn’t because he wasn’t enough that I wanted to adopt another dog, but because he made my life so much better.


We adopted him when he was two--he would be the youngest dog I would ever adopt--and he lived another ten years, watching my kids grow from barely walking infants and chattering toddlers to seeing them walk out the door for drivers licenses and homecoming and prom.


He would pass away a few days after Christmas in 2018. My Cowboy.


It’s funny to think how the trajectory of my life, really, began to change and begin anew on that sunny day in the Circle J parking lot in northern wyoming just outside the Montana border with a nervous weimaraner we called Cowboy.


And as I always say, that’s what rescue is all about. Taking a story that was headed in one direction and changing it for the better--whether that be for 10 years or 10 days.


Every dog deserves a chance at love and forever.


So let’s see if we can change our feature dogs story. Meet Zoe from Mile High Weimeraner Rescue in Colorado. Please remember, that ____ is available, now, at the recording of this podcast. He/she might already be adopted by the time you listen. That said, please visit the rescue’s website for more information on the other dogs waiting for their chance at forever. AS always You’ll find information on the rescue on our show notes at www.justadddogspodcast.com .


The purpose of Mile High Weimaraner Rescue is to find loving, permanent homes for unwanted or abandoned Weimaraners, by preparing prospective families for responsible dog ownership through education and support and by helping companions through training and behavior modification.

Mile High Weimaraner Rescue is located in the Denver, Colorado metropolitan area and is run by, supported by and exists, thanks to a tireless group of dedicated volunteers.

Now onto the main attraction. Zoe! This sweet 7 yr old girl, Zoe, came from a shelter in Kansas where she was picked up as a stray! She is a sweet sweet girl, a true cuddler and pretty chill lady. She is good with other dogs and people of all sizes, but no thanks on the cats please! Zoe is housetrained, walks nicely on leash and is a very steady lady (possibly has a little labrador in her). She is a little overweight currently, so will need a family willing to walk her and help her trim the pounds off. Could she find a couch to surf on in your home?


You can find out how to adopt Zoe at mhwr.org and follow Mile High Weimeraner Rescue on instagram at @milehighweimrescue


Let’s find Zoe a home!


Now, in addition to subscribing to this podcast, follow us on facebook and instagram and go to www.justadddogspodcast.com to download my free resource guide called The Basic Guide to Adopting Your Next Best Friend. And if you have adopted your best friend, or maybe two or three or five, and would like to tell your story, please send me an email at justadddogspodcast@gmail.com or a Direct Message on Instagram at @justadddogspodcast. Also, feel free to submit a rescue or a shelter that you love and adore to be featured on the show.


Thank you so much for tuning in and listening. Until next week, I’m your host, Lindsay.










6 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All