What started out in the dog days of summer

Hi. My name is Abbey Fitzpatrick, though my parents refer to me as Abbey THE dog. I wanted to share my story with you and how I came to live in the Lowcountry.

Let me start out with some of my back tory. I am mostly terrier, in both appearance and personality, but I qualify as a “mixed breed.” I started out in Georgia a little over 14 and a half years ago. My birthday, at least according to whatever records they can find, was Sept 5, 2010. My parents really don’t know how I ended up in a shelter the first time, but they do know that I was adopted by a family who was looking for a pet that was hypoallergenic, and the shelter seemed to think I was exactly that as my makeup is more hair than traditional fur. Sadly, for me and the family that adopted me, that turned out not to be the case, and their child had some tough issues with me due to that, so back to the shelter I went. The family was told that since I was a “returnee” their rules were that if I was not adopted within a week, I would be euthanized. While they were unable to keep me, they were appalled at that thought and called around and found a rescue group to take me. Double Dog Rescue saved me and connected me with a foster home, still in Georgia, and they put me up on their website as a young girl looking to be adopted (my name was Pippa at the time).

Back up in Conn., the soon to be mom I didn’t yet know was looking to adopt a dog. She had always had cats, and her family had a dog when she was young, but she had never had a dog of her own. My soon to be dad had always had dogs, but his last one had crossed the rainbow bridge about six years earlier, and during that time, he was enjoying the extra travel freedom that came with being dog free. Well, my mom wore him down, and together, they started to look. She fell in love with my picture and said I was exactly what she was looking for, a medium size dog who was already trained and was about a year and a half old. So, in March of 2012, I boarded a pet transport and made the seemingly long ride up to Conn. where I was met by my new family. We were both very excited, so much so that even after being walked around I decided that the best welcome would be to christen their comfortable living room with a few presents as soon as the door closed. That was really not my style, so it was the last time I did that, as I really did know better.

They had a very nice home, a full acre of land but not physically fenced, though they did have the “electric fence” for Kacey, the lab who had crossed the bridge back years earlier. Though my personality was such that they didn’t think I’d really take to the electric fence, so it was decided that since the layout of the property didn’t allow for a section to be easily fenced, I would be a leash dog. What my parents were not told was that in my foster home, they did have a fence, and I was encouraged to go out whenever I heard the door open, so on first full day I was in my new home, I was resting happily in the living room and my dad took the opportunity to go out the back door to bring out the trash. I have really good hearing, and as soon as I heard the door open, unbeknownst to my dad who was simply opening the door with the trash bag in his hand, I bolted out in front of him and proceeded to run around my new neighborhood for over an hour as I played hide and seek with multiple cars and lots of kind neighbors helping them to look for me. My next-door neighbor, Sophia, pulled up to me in her car, and since I love car rides, as soon as she opened her door to approach me, I bolted into her car, and she quickly shut the door and brought me home. My parents called the foster and asked if I was a runner, but she then explained about her fenced yard and what I was used to, so they learned to be very careful when opening the doors.

For the next nine years, they would take me out for walks and to take care of my necessary business always on a leash. In the back yard where serious business was conducted, it was always on a 20-foot leash so I could have some freedom. During that time, my dad would always shovel paths for me when we got large snowstorms (he wasn’t thrilled, but he always did). I loved running around in the snow, and in the other parts of the year, I would lie on my favorite lounge when they sat on the back deck, always attached to that same leash, and life was good.

When my parents decided that a combined 80+ years of teaching had run its joyful course, they retired and looked at options. It was spring of 2021, and the house sold very quickly, and with the help of Beth D’Angelis and her team, they found a new home in Bluffton, so on a Monday evening in late August, my dad packed me up in the car and with the help of his son, Drew, we made the trip from Norwalk, Conn. to Bluffton in one long, overnight drive. I spent the first three nights at the May River Pet Resort as my dad and brother were staying at a hotel waiting to close on the new house and waiting for the movers. They picked me up on the fourth morning, and when I arrived, I was completely over the moon. My new home had a brand-new fenced yard, and I was, for the first time since March of 2012, able to go outside without a leash. I could simply walk around untethered. I also got a lot more leash walking in since the weather is so much better to do that down here. Well, ok, I’m not really that fond of long walks during the aptly titled dog days of summer, but laying in the yard still is nice, and for nine months of the year, it is really great.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my journey as I move ever closer to the end of my timeline. I am very grateful that I can simply walk out the door to the yard multiple times of the day. My folks don’t have to suit up and leash me up at 2 a.m. or 3 a.m. the way they would have back north. I spend more time these days sleeping, and the ability to lay in the sun, unencumbered and untethered, is quite the pleasant experience. I also like that I can go out and just pace around outdoors, even if I’m not really sure why I’m doing it, and my parents, who seem to be a bit sad these days, can continue to do what they need to do without worrying about me. These may be small things, but I am so happy my parents decided to move to this wonderful Lowcountry home. I know I can see the bridge in the distance, but for the time being, I’ll continue to wag my tail and enjoy all that this area has to offer. Thanks for joining me on this trip down memory lane.

Kevin Fitzpatrick is a retired teacher who, along with his wife Sue (also a retired teacher) is enjoying exploring life in the lowcountry and all it has to offer.