When Evie was about six, I started thinking about getting her a companion. I knew she was getting a little older, and I had this feeling that it was kind of now or never. I worried that if I waited too long, she would be too old, too grumpy, too set in her ways to want another dog in her life.
And, if I'm honest, I was terrified.
It was just me and Evie for six years, and I loved our little life together. I kept thinking, Is this going to massively change the relationship I have with her? But I also knew Evie. And I thought she wanted a friend. So I started looking.
I found Max through the Basenji Club of Great Britain. He was ten months old and had been imported from Russia. The person who had brought him over had struggled within a couple of weeks, and he was looking for a new home for him.
I saw him mentioned in one of the Facebook groups, contacted the rescue coordinator, and things went from there.
Although "went from there" makes it sound much simpler than it actually was.
There were a few false starts because his owner was struggling to let him go. I was supposed to be picking him up, then I wasn't, then he changed his mind again.
Eventually, though, we got there.
I first met Max at my cousin's house, which was roughly halfway between our two homes. And he was so sweet. He was ten months old, so he still had a bit of that puppy-ness about him. He was quiet, calm and inquisitive.
That didn't last long.
Although, in his defence, it was a completely new environment, a completely new situation and a very big change for a ten-month-old dog.
I remember doing the handover, getting him into the car and securing him in his harness. He curled up on the seat next to me and slept the entire way home.
I took him straight to my local vets for a little health check, just to make sure he was okay, and we booked in to discuss neutering.
Then we went home.
I let him into the garden while Evie was still inside. They saw each other through the window first, and then I opened the door.
Evie came flying out.
All attitude.
The Queen Bee had arrived to make sure this new boy knew exactly where he stood.
And Max?
He was brilliant. Every time Evie snapped or grumbled at him, he would just put his head to one side and look away. He didn't react. He gave her space and let her tell him what she thought of the situation.
They had a few minutes of "Oh... I'm not sure about you". And then they had about two solid hours of absolutely insane zoomies. And that was pretty much it, they were in love.
For the first couple of weeks, though, Evie would occasionally look at me with a face that very clearly said:
"It's still here though, Mum."
It would get to the end of the day and she'd look at me as if to say,
"But it's still... why is it still here?"
And after about two weeks she finally accepted it.
"Oh. He's staying, isn't he?"
Yes, darling.
He was staying.
That was my one rule throughout the whole process. The only reason Max would ever have to leave was if he and Evie didn't get on. And they loved each other from the very beginning. Which was lucky, because those first few months? Oh my word.
Exhausting.
I think the only word I could safely use to describe Max when he first came to us was manic. He was very confused. Very unsure. And he had SO. MUCH. ENERGY.
His separation anxiety was extreme, to say the least. You couldn't leave him alone, even with Evie, he was destructive, very destructive.
I once stepped outside my front door for about five minutes to speak to the postman.
Five minutes.
I came back inside and he'd pulled my bag off the side and completely destroyed my leather handbag.
Curtains weren't safe.
Cushions weren't safe.
He can get through a seatbelt in the car in less than a minute!
Pretty much nothing was safe.
He was a worried, confused young dog who didn't really understand where he fitted anymore. And I won't lie, I found it really difficult. I had got Evie as a puppy, so part of me had thought, He's ten months old. Surely this will be easier.
No.
No, it was not.
And this is something I think is really important when we talk about rescue and rehoming.
There are plenty of people out there who would make absolutely wonderful dog parents, but rescue or rehoming isn't necessarily the right path for every person. Max tested me to my very, very limits. He had a lot of issues, and some of those are things we still have to manage today.
If he'd been my first ever dog, I completely understand why someone might have looked at that situation and thought, Oh my Lord, this is too much. And honestly, if he and Evie hadn't got on so beautifully, I don't know if I would have stuck it out.
But he was here for Evie, Evie adored him, so we were going to make it work.
Then lockdown happened.
Max came to us in October, and not long afterwards the first lockdown hit. And, strangely enough, I think that period gave him the time and space he needed to settle. He calmed down, he became more confident, and slowly, the manic, confused young dog we'd brought home started to become our Max.
And watching him change was incredible, he took so much reassurance from Evie. She became his safe place, and he became her companion. She seemed younger with him around, too. Six isn't particularly old for a dog, but after six years of mostly just being with me, she'd become a bit of an old grumpy lady.
Max knocked years off her, she became playful and youthful again, and I was so glad I'd made the decision to bring him home, because underneath all the chaos, there was this incredibly sweet boy.
Our boy.
Our Max.
And this was only the beginning of his story.
Next time, I'll tell you how our little manic Russian import went from a confused ten-month-old whirlwind to the elder statesman of the Dearhearts we know today. 🧡🐾
Max with his darling Evie
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