My 12 year old (going on 13) mutt is a mix of Collie, Heeler, and possibly Golden. I still call him my puppy. Basically he looks and acts like a red-headed Collie. He is wicked smart and a lover through and through. As I tell people who are meeting him for the first time, he doesn’t want to just kiss you, he wants to french kiss you.
He loves everyone, except men in uniform. The only time he’s ever been aggressive toward someone was when we were hiking and came across some kids in camo gear with paintball guns & he lunged at them with a vengeance (he was leashed so no harm done other than scaring the poor teens).
We met online, 12 years ago. I found him on an adoption site (I spent a lot of time on those sites because I volunteered at our local shelter & took the pictures & posted them for that shelter). I knew from his picture and his BIG smile that he was the one for me. When I went to meet him, the shelter staff was full of warnings: he’s a lot to handle, he needs a lot of activity, he’s not good around other dogs, he is too much for small children, etc. etc. He nearly pulled my shoulder out of the socket pulling on the leash during our little stroll around the yard.
We spent the next 18 months getting to know each other and learning what the rules of our relationship would be. More than once I came home to some thing or another destroyed and wondered if this was going to work out. But, while I’m very slow to commit, once I’m in there’s no going back. I’m all in, loyal to a fault.
So we muddled our way through, and now things are smooth and easy and he is the angel of my days (which started around the time he turned 3 years old). I love him and he is my family. He’s also the only boy I’ve been able to commit to for an extended period of time (so far).
What has been a BIG surprise for me, having never lived with a pet as an adult until him, was the sheer volume of hair that he sheds ALL THE TIME. Seriously – it is everywhere, in everything, on everything. Frequent brushing helps but we are now on vacuum #4 in 10 years, and I’ve learned the hard way that if I change the bedsheets twice a week then my allergies are less affected by the accumulation on the bed (yes, he’s allowed to sleep with me and now when I travel I miss his 60lb bulk pushed against me as I fall asleep).
And now, as he ages into what I teasingly call ‘my grumpy old man dog,’ the thought occurs to me that my days of dog hair are numbered. I’ll get another dog after him, I love having a dog, but the next one will definitely shed less. I think. There’s something heartbreaking to me about finding a dog hair in a box when I unpack Christmas gear (or something similar) after he’s gone. I’m so sentimental that I’m likely to put it into a bottle on a mantle or something crazy. Or just burst into tears missing him. I’ve already learned that there is no way to be completely hair-free no matter how diligent my efforts.
For anyone wondering why this is where my mind goes when I’m cleaning up after my currently active and healthy dog today, I come by this imagination of future heartbreak honestly. My father was overly sentimental as well. It’s a bittersweet depth of feeling combined with knowing that nothing lasts forever in this world.
And, yes, I admit it – a little bit of a poet / dreamer who will do anything to avoid cleaning up dog hair on a Sunday afternoon, including waxing philosophical about it to The Great Online.
Overly Honest 