Monday, July 1, 2013

I'm a Dog Person

I have never been what one would call a dog person. Sure growing up there was the occasional pet canines such as Little Puppy (cut me some slack I was 3) and Milton. But my budding friendships with my four legged companions were cut short when thieves stole both dogs which is actually quite common in Mississippi. Through these events I had come to the conclusion that dogs just were not meant to be for the Puma of Chocolate persuasion. That was until a Saturday visit to a local shelter and the first dog that strolls in changed my mind immediately.
Sir Franklin of the House Thompson
 I remember it like it was 8 weeks ago; the door opened and in strolls a short legged Corgi-Spaniel mix that plopped right down at my feet. If I could have walked out with him that moment I would have. He had won me over. He was so relaxed, so calm, and overly lazy. He was just like me. I left there without him but a mere two days later I was back and walked out the door with this delightful weirdo.
The first few days were filled with feeling each other out, what he could do and what he couldn’t do. Very early on it was evident he had a home before as he was house broken pretty well and was a bit quiet. But there were some rough patches, he had a freak out moment where he just wouldn’t move off the couch so old Puma sat up with him all night, patted his head and we watched tv literally all night. Around 5 am he felt comfortable enough to hop off the couch and follow me outside and give chase to a few squirrels. After that one rough night my little buddy appeared to be a changed dog. He’d hop on your lap as soon as you sat in the chair in my living room, began to figure out when he was in best position to get a treat, and of course his pension for falling asleep in the oddest positions ever.
Who sleeps like this?
 So after about 5 weeks of awesomeness together the decision was made to have a temperament test done by a trainer who came highly regarded after seeing a few disturbing characteristics most notably attempting to bite my niece. The news that came from that wasn’t good. Apparently the prior home I suspected he had been in earlier had been a bit violent as he had been overly corrected to the point of fear to growl which is how you know a bite is imminent. Because of this it was suggested he be placed in a home where there were no children and minimal social activities. Crushed, saddened, deeply depressed the next day my little buddy was taken back to a fantastic shelter where later that evening he was placed with an older couple with no children and a large yard for his goofy run to get plenty of action.
So here I sit, entering week two of no spastic jumping when I enter the room, atrocious smelling farts, and hearing scratching at the door whenever I went to the bathroom and while I am comforted by the fact he is in a home where he is comfortable and not stressed whenever someone new comes in it has been by no means easy.
Very different reactions to a torrent of farts.
I still wake up every morning around 5:30 because someone wouldn’t let me sleep in, I plan social activities still around getting home to let him out, and find myself looking from my bed hoping to see him sprawled out.

But alas the asshole-ish nature of another human may have made him not the right fit at the current moment. I am comforted that he had a good home and saw that not all people are ass clowns. So that’s it. Will I get another dog again? You bet I will. And I will destroy your Twitter, Instagram and Facebook feeds with pictures of him.

Why? I guess you could say I’m just a dog person.
Special buddies.

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