Five years ago I arrived at our local dog park in Manchester, Vermont and I ran right into two women whom I saw there often. I noticed they were both in tears! Crying at the dog park! They were walking up and down the field together very distraught. I didn’t think they knew each other very well so I was surprised. They immediately came over to me and told me the whole story. A dog they knew and loved from the dog park had been taken to the shelter in our rural Vermont community. I didn’t know the dog or the owner and was surprised to hear this story. These women were devastated for and so worried about this little dog they had come to love dearly. Due to living circumstances, neither of them could possibly take him home.

For the past few months I had been contemplating getting another dog. Our magnificent 110 pound black lab Dudley was very playful and I thought he would enjoy the company. I could not believe this opportunity had literally been dropped right in front of me. I decided to go to the shelter and take a looky poo at this little dog I had heard about. I realized I needed a second opinion and went home and grabbed our son Scotty, who I knew would be brutal in judging odd little dogs at the shelter. He concurred that he was the right man for the job because his younger sister was completely unable to be objective and would take home any rabid beast if the opportunity presented itself! Scotty and I arrived at Second Chance Animal Shelter and found the little guy above. His name was Gizmo. He’s a funny looking little guy who dances around on his hind legs like a circus dog to get attention. He was hoarse from so much barking. He had been returned to the shelter by two different adoptive families. The little black dog flat out, with every cell in his body, refused… under any circumstance, or under the influence of any sedative, to get into ANY type of animal carrier. He’s like a crazy hyperactive toddler who wants to be held… a lot. He likes you to hold him so he is sitting upright… looking around the room or into the eyes of whomever you are speaking. Scotty and I decided this miniature bundle of energy was absolutely perfect for our big crazy family. We put him on hold for 24 hours so we could bring Dudley back to make sure they could tolerate each other.

Meeting “Gizmo” at Second Chance Animal Shelter

My husband was in Boca Grande at the time. Too chicken to call, I sent him an email telling him I’d found the second dog I wanted. Don was expecting another black lab, not a weirdo named Gizmo. Scotty and I returned the next day after school with our lab for a “meet and greet” and left 20 minutes later with the weird little dog, his plaid sweater, and a dog bed he knew as his “poof”. I am a woman who never calls a piece of furniture a “poof” so I was a tad annoyed by this revelation. When I returned home I found an email from my husband telling me that he’d thought it over and he felt adopting some odd, little dog was a huge mistake. Oops! He was already home with his new family! Poof and all!

We immediately knew that the name Gizmo would 100 percent not work for us. I questioned the vet about changing a dog’s name and she told me if you pet them and feed them when you call them their new name, they will adjust quickly. On day four, we decided on the name Finn. Looking back on it, it is clear this dog could have easily handled a weirder or more exotic name. My husband and eldest son Japer have since given him the last name Wilson…AKA as Mr. Wilson.

Dudley and Finny Foo Foo, Dorset, Vermont

Finn has other peculiar habits that we have learned about over time. When I leave the house he runs and takes one of my shoes in his mouth and keeps it with him until my return (resulting in my shoes strewn all over the house, making it impossible to find a pair!) We have recently figured out that he occasional sneaks a shoe outside when he runs out to greet us. After our 2021 moves and packing up homes I have realized I am currently missing an UGG slipper and a Jimmy Choo ballet flat. I am not amused.

Finn is full on living his best “blue haired special” life. He starts asking for his dinner at 3:15 and puts himself to bed at night by 7:30. He goes upstairs to sleep on our pillows until we come to bed and he moves reluctantly to his prized “poof”. Finny Foo Foo fell madly in love at first sight with Don. The feeling was NOT mutual! Don arrived back in Vermont 4 days after Finn’s arrival and the day I was leaving for a trip to NYC with my friend Amy. I got several phone calls over that weekend about the horrible decision I made to bring this “disastrous little dog” into our lives. I called the kids and told them to keep the weird little pooch away from Don until I got home. Within a couple weeks they became completely devoted to each other. Don is obsessed with our little Finny Foo Foo and the feeingl is mutual...that is until Finn finds Don hugging me. Then our little Finn Wilson pounces high into the air to try and knock Don’s hands off of his mama. I find this behavior extremely annoying but my husband finds it wildly fun. He will come running, laughing into the room, and throw his arms around me and wait for the attack.

Due to the complete and total hysteria about pet carriers…I mean really BIG hysteria, Linda Blair head spinning type hysteria, we now drive back and forth between Florida and Vt for the sole reason that our Finn refuses to get in a carrier for a flight. We had a vet try to sedate him for a practice run with a carrier and I swear to God, it make him worse! We now put the poof on top of duffel bags in the middle of the backseat so he can get the full view of the cockpit and the road. We strap in the baby, and he rides quietly and obediently from state to state with his chin resting on the driver’s shoulder. He is the most perfectly imperfect backseat driver extraordinaire!