"Stubborn" dogs- don't need- corrections
|Barked: Fri Nov 30, '12 2:17pm PST |
|I think I've had two. But for me, they're not "heart dogs" they're familiars, and my belief is that familiars come back to you in another form after they've passed on. It isn't the body that you love, it's the spirit. And if that spirit is truly your familiar, then it will come back. It may not be the same species, and it may not even be the same personality. But you know. (:
Anyway, my first was a dog named Pooh. Well, actually, his name was $#%!-head, but around little two year old me, he was called Poo-poo Head. He was called that because they never managed to house train him. He was a Poodle/Wirehaired Terrier/who knows what else mutt. His grandmother is a legend in our house! His mother was my dad's heart dog.
Here's the story:
Dixie came to live with my grandparents when she followed my dad home form school one day. Dixie was a stray, and that's pretty much all they knew. I haven't seen any pictures of her, but they tell me she was some kind of Terrier mix; my dad thinks Wirehaired Terrier. Or, she could have just been a wirehaired mutt. Who knows? Anyway, there was a larger stray that terrorized her. At first, my grandpa did not want her. (He was VERY strict back then; he'd just come back from 'Nam and he was nothing like the spoiling, gift-giving person he is now.) But when he saw this itty bitty little puppy being chased around by this big mean bully, well... The rest is history.
Dixie got preggers (twice; remember, back then, things were different with breeding and stuff. Dixie was never fixed, I don't think. And she got out ALL THE TIME, so it's a wonder she didn't get pregnant more often) and out popped Patty. No one can seem to remember if Patty was in the first or second litter, but they do know that she was in the litter where Dixie needed help. My dad stayed home from school one day, and he suddenly heard SCREAMING. He ran in where Dixie was, and, yep, there was a puppy stuck. My poor teenage dad had to pull puppies out. They think the father of that litter was a neighbor's Standard Poodle. So, yeah, they were definitely too big for poor Dixie. ):
Anyway, I don't know the whole story of Patty. I just know that she was EXTREMELY loyal to my dad, and that I made her afraid of kids. I would chase her because I REALLY REALLY REALLY wanted to pet her. I didn't know any better. (Oddly, I didn't know that my daddy was my daddy until later in life, after Patty had passed away; he and my mom divorced when I was an infant and she kept letters and stuff from me. I only saw him when I visited my grandparents, but like I said, I didn't know who he was to me. I just knew he had a pretty white dog.) I'm not sure how Patty ended up pregnant, but she was. And this is where Pooh comes in!
Pooh was black. He DEFINITELY looked like a Poodle mix. He was the most patient, relaxed, and friendly dog I will ever come in contact with. I don't know if we have pictures or not, but if I ever find any, I will definitely make a Dogster account for Pooh.
Pooh and I grew up together. I used to ride him like a pony. He helped me learn to stand and walk. I would follow him and he would follow me. If I was old enough, I'm sure I even could have walked him. Pooh's only faults were his inability to be housetrained, and his anxiety. My grandparents left for vacation, and Pooh somehow escaped. We believe the cougar got him. ): The reason we think that, is because the cougar was seen in the neighborhood around the same time. His/her territory spans to other neighborhoods, so we only see him/her every few years, but we all know when the cougar's back, because pets start disappearing. Cats never come back, dogs vanish from their yards... Pretty scary. But I'm pretty sure the cougar is dead by now.
Anyways, I came back one vacation, calling for Pooh over and over again. When I finally asked my grandparents, they told me that Pooh was gone. To this day, I have never cried that loudly, that heartbrokenly, or that long. To this day, nothing compares to the amount of pain I felt. Not being cheated on, not reliving my traumatic past, nothing. Pooh gone was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. The one and only thing I would ever change, is somehow finding a way to convince my grandparents to bring Pooh to where my mom and I were.
After Pooh, there was Mitzi and then PeeWee. I loved PeeWee, but I was so troubled when we had PeeWee. Mentally, I should not have owned anything with a life. But, I think PeeWee did know he was loved, even if I was harsh to him at times.
And then... Lobo.
After PeeWee passed, we realized that a house without a dog was terrible. We spent weeks looking. In the meantime, my grandparents bought me a ferret. Another regret I have is giving her away when we got Lobo. I wish I would have just kept her and worked things out somehow. But maybe it was better? Maybe keeping her would have led to her death? I'm not really sure. Anyway, we ended up finding the perfect dog about an hour outside of town, at the SPCA.
Okay, so "perfect" isn't the adjective I would use to describe year-old Lobo. "Pretty" maybe. Or "out of control." "Hyper" worked well, too.
I've told this story countless times. I'm sure many of the dogsters remember it. But basically, Lobo was a terror. He marked, he pinned my brother to the floor once, and on a leash? Oh god. If he saw a dog, he was gone, and I was being dragged behind him. He didn't have a care in the world what *you* wanted. It was Lobo > everyone else in his mind. Heck, it probably still is. Definitely a far cry from passive, obedient, relaxed Pooh.
Honestly, I didn't feel connected to Lobo for quite some time. There was another dog I wanted, and Lobo just... annoyed me. A lot. It was *his* fault I had to get rid of my ferret. It was *his* fault that I had bruises all the time. It was *his* fault I couldn't pet other dogs. It was *his* fault my knees were scraped. It was *his* fault for... well, everything.
But he somehow grew on me. Not really sure how that one happened. I guess I started to admire his strong will, his free face, his... well, everything. Lobo was mine. He knew before I did. Despite all of his, erm, "faults" he clung to me like I was his sun. Yeah, Lobo definitely knew before I did.
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