Conclusion of my story about adopting a dog from Texas
By Nancy Turner
The Dalles, Ore., Sept. 27, 2025 — The plan was for the rescue dog I’d chosen to be crammed in a crate and driven by van from Texas to The Dalles. The first text message I received from the Mutts and Meows Rescue in Missouri City, Texas, said they were departing from Texas on Sunday, then it was changed to Monday morning, then to late Monday afternoon. After a flurry of text messages, they reported the van left on Monday evening.
On the way, the van broke down in Logan, Utah. Eight dogs were checked into the Cache Humane Society for a couple of nights while the delivery service woman tried to figure out what was wrong with the van. The ditzy driver couldn’t decide what to do. Mutts and Meows Rescue put pressure on the transport service to get going. The driver finally rented another van and continued westward.
Meanwhile, I feared I was being scammed. I’d paid my money. Where is my dog? What was supposed to take just two days had now stretched into five. Delay after delay scared me. I complained. I bitched.
I threatened to contact the Better Business Bureau. Both the head of the rescue service and the foster mom assured me they were as upset as I was. They asked me to hang tight. Saturday morning, after six long days on the road, the van pulled into The Dalles at 8 a.m.
I finally held in my arms a frightened, weary little dog. He’d been through hell, not knowing what was happening or why he was caged in a van for days on end. I peered into the van. There were still several more dogs bound for homes in Washington.
When I first brought him into my house, my other dog, Pippin, immediately wanted to play. The poor little guy was too dazed. He just sat there, eyes glazed. He treated my cats’ pieces of furniture to be respected and ignored.
The term “housebroken” is borrowed from breaking horses. It meant training, taming, or bringing under control. We use the phrase “break a horse” or “break in” a new pair of shoes. Fortunately, this dog already knew how to use the pet door and head outside.
Nothing is known about his history. He’d been found on the streets and arrived at the shelter with matted hair so bad it impinged his vision. Even so, he has a calm, agreeable personality. He is not a small yappy dog, thank God. Just small. Thirteen pounds, and the best guess is that he’s around three years old. Unlike a puppy that wants to chew everything, he leaves my shoes, socks, and table legs alone.
I settled on the name Sancho. Centuries ago, this was a common Spanish name meaning simple, rustic, and very much a “man of the people”. It’s a soft-sounding word that fits this gentle dog. In Cervantes’ book Don Quixote de la Mancha, Sancho Panza was his sidekick.
I have a strong affection for the book, Don Quixote, not just because it’s one of the best literary works since 1605, but for personal reasons. Back in 1971, I hitchhiked with a friend, Helen, through Mexico, Central, and South America. You know how it is when you’re young. Anything is possible. During the many hours of waiting by the roadside for a car or truck to come along, I'd been reading Don Quixote.
While exploring Mexico, Helen and I hitched a ride with a couple of Canadian fellows about our age. They were headed from the capital to the coast. When night fell, they pulled off the desolate highway and parked their jeep. There were no houses, no farm buildings, nothing but desert, cactus, and clear skies. We rolled out our sleeping bags under the stars and fell asleep.
At sunrise, I sat up to scan the horizon. Approaching over a hill was a tall, thin man riding a bony old horse. Following him was a chubby Mexican fellow bouncing along on a donkey. I was astounded by the synchronicity of seeing characters right off the pages of the book. Rather than stopping to say hello, they trotted off across the desert and vanished out of sight.
To this day, I still juggle in my psyche the impulses of those two characters. Don Quixote's mind turned ordinary events into epic adventures. He's ridiculous in his delusions and admirable in his sincerity and moral ideals. Sancho Panza, his loyal, down-to-earth squire, provides a practical counterbalance. The story explores reality vs illusion, idealism vs pragmatism, and the dignity of pursuing one's dreams – even when the world laughs.
When I first thought about rescuing a dog from Texas, I thought I must be nuts. What the hell was I thinking? Call me Don Quixote. Someone said, "But you already have three cats and a dog." Another questioned why I didn't adopt from the local shelter. I asked my friend Rhiannon if I was crazy. She didn't think so.
Sancho, the pragmatic character in the book, often spouted sayings that really annoyed Don Quixote.
Here are a few I dug up.
"When the head aches, all the members ache." His way of saying that when the leader is in trouble, everyone under them feels it too. (telling for our times)
"He who sows winds will reap tempests," Sancho warned Don Quixote that stirring up trouble only brings worse trouble, advice Don Quixote ignored. "Whether the pitcher hits the stone or the stone hits this pitcher, it's bad for the pitcher."
Since choosing the name, I’ve learned that “Sancho” these days has a new meaning. It’s the nickname for a man who visits a wife when her husband is away. Oh well, too late to change it now.
My dog Sancho a happy little guy who considers every dog and human he meets his best friend. He likes to sneak up on me and give me doggy kisses, then looks away as if to say, “What was that?”
If you have even the slightest inclination to adopt an orphaned animal, do so. Don’t listen to those people who think you’ve lost your mind. Follow your Don Quixote impulse. Lose your mind and find your heart. You won’t regret it. You can’t save them all, but the one you do save will love you forever.
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