What Is He?

When people see our dog Opie (left), they notice his two different colored eyes first. Then they say, “What IS he?”—a mystery we have been trying to unravel since we “rescued” him from a kill shelter in South Carolina in January 2015.

In the only photo we had seen, he appeared to be a German shepherd mix, which is exactly what we wanted. He looked young; the rescue organization thought three or four months old. Also exactly what we wanted! Perfect! We started the process to get him brought up to Vermont from South Carolina, which was surprisingly rigorous, with references and home visits.

Finally a group of dogs was set to be transported up from SC. All of us adopters received a message telling us to show up at 4:30 the next afternoon at the Kmart that was about to go out of business. Standing around that empty parking lot waiting for a van to arrive from another state with our dogs felt super sketchy. We stood around making black market jokes. 

I had been tasked with getting a large—MAYBE medium—mixed breed puppy and had scoured the rescue listings for several weeks before finding our ideal dog.When Opie got off the van, I saw his dainty little fox feet, and my heart sank. This is not a young puppy; this is a small dog. My husband says he thought, “Where’s the rest of him??” His legs were so short. He was adorable and he was ours, so we brought him home, but I had concerns. We had wanted a dog with a known and hopefully brief history because of our two rambunctious young boys. We hoped that a three-month-old puppy would grow up with our boys and be unfazed by their loud volume, rough play, and sudden movements. We worried that a dog old enough to have a history of abuse could snap at them, but we were one hundred percent committed to using a shelter and not a breeder to get our puppy.

One peek in Opie’s mouth and the vet confirmed our concerns. “Those aren’t puppy teeth. This dog is at least six months old, probably seven.” Oh. Will he get any bigger? “Maybe five pounds.” OK then. We were a bit put out that the rescue group got his basic description (age, weight, probable breed mix) so wrong, but it all worked out: Opie is an amazing family dog. Not only that, he’s the smartest dog I’ve ever known.

We now realize there is no German shepherd in this dog. Opie looks like what you get if you take a Husky, swap out one blue eye for brown, trade the white and gray color scheme for black and tan, add a couple vertebrae, chop off part of the legs—then shrink. 

And if you fixate on the short legs and think “Maybe basset hound. Maybe Corgi!” you need to know that his full brother, his litter-mate who was also adopted in Vermont, has crazy long spider legs.

Honestly our best guess is part Siberian Husky, part Chihuahua, which is a combo that can be hard to wrap your brain around. We almost tried a doggie DNA test, but the reviews weren’t great concerning accuracy, and $80 is a lot to spend on a guess. It’s more fun to google images of random mixes anyway. The results are endless. Try "Husky Chihuahua mix."

What I finally realized was that I was trying too hard to control the outcome. Adopting a mixed breed rescue dog requires a leap of faith and a willingness to accept uncertainty, but it's completely worth it. I will always choose shelter dogs over buying a dog. Opie is amazing and hilarious and I couldn't be happier that he's ours.