He liked to eat and if you allowed him he would gorge himself until he was sick. There didn’t seem to be an off switch and when he threw up it would be in a large pile that usually required a small shovel to pick up. If you didn’t get there quick enough to clean up the mess, he would simply re-eat what was deposited on the floor, a hot lunch if you will. I wouldn’t really classify this as a discerning palette, would you? The cat’s litter box was always a treat and if you were out in the forest there was plenty of material to dine on; a rotting carcass served a dual role because he could roll in his dinner as well as eat it. Mud puddles, regardless of size, were a particular delight and one had to be careful when letting him out of the truck because in a blink of an eye he would be frolicking in the filth. I sometimes thought he was part hog. He was 120 pounds of Chesapeake Bay retriever and although he lacked social grace I loved him dearly and had him by my side as my Big Buddy. He was my closest companion for 12 years. When he got sick at the end, we took him to the vet and were told there wasn’t much to be done. The vet gave him a shot and told us it wouldn’t probably make much of a difference. We all knew how this would end. That last night I sat up with him, silently praying that he would go to sleep and pass away peacefully. It was not to be. When the morning came we drove him back to the vet. I felt like a murderer. Big Buddy (his name was Bismarck) was given the final needle and when I saw him close his eyes that final time, I experienced pain and a sense of loss I never knew existed. Even now, 7 years later, the wound is raw and writing these words of remembrance rips me open to the core. If you don’t love dogs and have never had one, you have no idea what the fuck I am talking about. I’m guessing however that most of you feel what I am throwing down. If you don’t then I honestly don’t want to know you. One of these days I might get around to spreading his ashes around the pond that he so dearly loved to go in, especially at inopportune times. Someday, but I am not quite there yet.
Well you can imagine my astonishment when Max started to bring up the possibility of getting a dog. Firstly, she is more into cats than canines (even she was surprised that getting a dog interested her) and secondly the fact that I was totally okay with us taking the step and getting another dog. I put Bis down 7 years ago and I wasn’t sure I could handle dealing with another heartbreak like that. For me, if you have a dog there is no half way; they immediately become the centre piece of the family, end of! If you can’t commit to that, don’t get a dog. I was not only ready to commit, I was actually looking forward to the new addition, and it wasn’t even going to be my dog. When all the humming and hawing was over, we found the new addition – an Australian Shepherd / poodle cross – an Aussie Doodle! Oh my!
A little over two weeks ago we brought the little fella home. That morning at the breeders, Max handed him to me while paperwork was being exchanged and I held him the first time – believe it or not, he actually smelled nice! Totally sucks you in, doesn’t it? He hasn’t smelled that nice since. The ride home? Uneventful, he was a good little boy. That whole first day he was a good little boy, but then again, we had yet to experience the darkness.
Max named the little guy Bodhi. In Sanskrit, Bodhi means “awakening” – rather apt I would say! He is BUSY!!! Bodhi has naps, he does, but when awake? This little bugger is Hell on Wheels. I forgot how much work a puppy can be. If he’s on the move, all eyes are on him. Normally you don’t have to look far, he’s nipping at your heels when not fighting his red pig or rubber chicken. Then there’s the ZOOMS – know these? When they strike indoors, it can often end in major carnage! Think Motley Crew’s Kickstart My Heart!!! Full Contact Bumper car Bodhi!!! The aristocratic cats look down on this freak show from above with barely disguised disdain. This nonchalant snobbery can turn hostile in an instant if they get too close to the buffoon. He will run them over if given the chance, all in the name of rock and roll I suspect (that’s two Motley Crew references in one blog if you are paying attention). Then of course there’s issues when outside. Deer shit is not a delicacy, it isn’t! Today we had a game of chase while he tried to eat as much as he could before I pried it out of his mouth. And heading straight for the soil in the flower bed is not cool, especially after a fresh rain (why the Hell is it raining in February anyway?). Overall, it’s been awesome though and I am glad that he is part of our lives. Eventually I might even get to write one of these blog posts from my nice, new desk. Downstairs has yet to be Bodhi proofed (don’t fuck with the books and oh yeah, there is a litter box down here too) and is currently acting as the cat’s sanctuary away from the madness of this little princeling. For now though, I walk about with my laptop nearby, pounding out a few words at a time, when there’s time. I wouldn’t have it any other way!