Extinction of the Corgisaurus

It was a couple of months after our move to Massachusetts and we could no longer put off our promise to get a dog. I have to admit I was dragging my feet a bit, but when I saw the advertisement for the Save-A-Dog open house I knew the time had come. 

My husband and I had criteria for our new dog; NO PUPPIES was number one, followed by not too big, not too furry, not too much shedding and not too much barking.

“Impossible,” my kids said, but the excitement was high as we drove the Save-A-Dog open house. With all the adoptable dogs out there, I was confident we would find a dog that fit our family.

At the Save-A-Dog event, the kids tumbled out of the car and immediately investigated an adorable litter of fuzzy golden puppies.

“Mom, Mom, MOM! Look at the puppies!” My ten-year old dragged me to the play yard that corralled the furry, wiggling bundles of fun.

“Oh no,” I said even as I put my fingers into the thick, soft fur of a puppy with big brown eyes and wandering tongue. I had to steel myself from its heart-melting cuteness. “Come on, let’s go to the information table,” I said and we headed to group of volunteers in Save-A-Dog t-shirts.

A Save-A-Dog volunteer handed me a clipboard to fill out our family information and dog wish list. I started with the checklist, Adult dog – yes. Female – yes. Size – medium. Do you work outside the home? – no, (I worked remotely from my living room). Do you have a fenced-in yard? – yes, (luckily it came with the house). Provide the contact information of a veterinarian you plan to use with your new dog.  There was no box for “I have no idea” so I skipped ahead. Provide two personal references that know you and your ability to provide a good home for the dog. HMMM I would have to get back to that one. I flipped the page and was shocked to see how many additional questions Save-A-Dog asked.  Will you be feeding dry kibble and if so, what brand? Will you feed a raw diet? The list went on for four pages. I thought, are you kidding? I dated men knowing less information than this form required.

“Can I finish this at home if we find a dog we like?” I asked the Save-A-Dog volunteer.

“Sure,” she said, “why don’t you just look around?”

My husband pointed out a tiny, trembling white dog with a high-pitched bark named Snowball. She met the not-too-big, not-too-much-fur requirements but she seemed a bit skittish. Snowball bared her sharp teeth, and growled low in her throat as we approached. “Snowball doesn’t stand a chance in hell of coming home with us,” I muttered.

My daughter chose a big brown Lab/Rottweiler/something mix that wagged its whole body with joy. “Too BIG,” my husband and I said in unison.

The Save-A-Dog volunteer glanced at our application. “New dog owners. Well that narrows it down,” she said and started pointing at dogs lined up in their crates. “Not that one, nope, definitely not that one, no, maybe, no...”

My husband pointed at a mid-sized, fluffy white and tan dog with big stand-up ears and a flag of a tail. “What about that one? She’s pretty.”

“Yes, that’s Maggie,” said the Save-A-Dog volunteer. “She is an excellent choice. She just came up from a high-kill shelter in West Virginia. Very sweet and not a big barker. She just needs to be spayed.”

“I don’t know,” I said slowly, eyeing the thick white coat and calculating fur per square inch. “I was hoping for a dog that doesn’t shed much. What kind of dog is she anyway?”

The volunteer consulted Maggie’s paperwork and confidently answered, “She’s a Welsh Corgi/Collie mix.”

OK, I could see the resemblance to a Corgi in her face, her tan and white coloring and shorter-than-average legs. The Collie part was up for discussion.

      

“That’s a whole lot of fur,” I said, but my family ignored me as they greeted Maggie with enthusiasm. She wriggled all over them, bumping her head into hands, weaving through legs and wagging excitedly. After a long trip from West Virginia in a crate and a week in a foster home, Maggie just wanted someone to love. Ten minutes with Maggie and we knew she was the one.

A few weeks later, Maggie had recovered from her spay surgery and was settled in with us. Owning a dog jump started my exercise routine and introduced me to our new neighbors as we walked our daily route. People frequently stopped us to ask what kind of dog breed she was and before long, I had dog-owner walking companions. Maggie was a great ambassador for our newly transplanted family. 

I absolutely loved having a Corgi mix breed. The queen of England has Corgis so I figured I was on good company. Corgisaurus climbed to the top of ridiculous Maggie nicknames. I bought a couple of books on Corgis, and it was amazing how much Corgi personality there was in our dog. I fantasized about someday having a pure-breed Corgi puppy and my daughter and I became fans of the Web site, www.corgiaddict.com, even posting a photo or two of our Corgi mix breed along with the other crazy Corgi owners.

My family recognized my growing obsession with finding Maggie’s real heritage. We knew she was a Corgi, but what was the other dog parent? My son and I spent hours looking at images of Corgi mix breeds on the Internet and decided that Maggie was not part Collie, but most likely a Corgi/Lemon Beagle mix. The resemblance was undeniable:

In order to stop the madness, my family gave me a Canine Heritage DNA test as a gift. I was so excited to open the test results and see what other dog produced our beautiful, but unusual looking Maggie.

The Canine Heritage test results proved you should not judge a book by its cover or believe a Save-A-Dog volunteer. Maggie is NOT a Corgi, or a Collie or even a Lemon Beagle. Maggie is primarily an Australian Shepherd with a little Husky (those ears!), Italian Greyhound (?) and Wirehaired Pointing Griffon (we had to look that one up) thrown in. Maggie is the true definition of an American mutt.

So much for rubbing elbows with the queen of England. I have had to realign almost six years of touting the advantages of owning a Corgi. I gave up her Corgisaurus nickname, donated my Corgi book to the library book sale and rescinded my membership to www.corgiaddict.com.

Maggie of course, remains unfazed.