Fact: Dogs are a very important part of my life.They always have been and always will be.
For as long as I can ever remember, there has been a dog in the house I have lived in, and over the past 17 years in every aspect of my life, and now more than ever.
Our first dogs as children were little moppy furballs. Pekinese, my Mother loved them…
I remember Twinkie and Blossom (to whom I became quite attached), but I know there were many more before them. After that we moved country to live and saved a German Sheperd cross form the local pound and, very unimaginatively, named him ‘Max’. Max was my first intro to big dogs, but we lost him soon after.
Next came Ben, a German short-haired Pointer we acquired from a couple who were moving and couldn’t be bothered to make arrangements to take him with them. He came with all the accessories of a spoilt dog and a warning that he liked to tear clothes from the washing line. Ben had lived in a small townhouse type deal with little space to run and play, with owners who worked all day-it was no wonder he got bored.
Ben was very placid and pretty obedient, but soon turned from ‘Family dog’ into my brother’s dog. I still got to walk him and such, but when Matt got his first ute, Ben became permanent luggage in the back, and so began their love affair with the Maccas drive-through and its’ cheeseburgers 🙂
It wasn’t until I turned 18 that I got my very first dog of my own. I went to pick my 18th present from a special breeder from Blackwater who insisted I view the dogs, meet with them all and choose from there. After a long conversation, instructions and exchange of details I was on my way back with the biggest smile I could have ever thought I would smile and a bundle of fluff. I named my new Rottweiler boy ‘Kadin’ meaning lone soldier, and so he came to be.
For the next 6 years Kadin was by my side every step of the way. I trained him to work with me, he protected me and I loved him with everything I had. Words cannot explain what that dog meant to me…they just can’t. He was the only one there with me during the times I thought I could not go on, for being hugged, cried on and leaned on. He was there when I made decisions that would change our lives and take us to a better place. He was always there.
When I lost my boy my heart broke. He suddenly got sick and nobody could tell me why or what was wrong. He had treatment after treatment. Everything that could have been done, far beyond my means, I didn’t care. I sat on the kitchen floor in tears every night and hand fed him when he would no longer eat from the bowl and carried him up and down the stairs to the yard. He died in my arms waiting for another vet appointment. I screamed at the vet, I cried and yelled and couldn’t make sense of it.
They sent me the bill in a condolence card. That didn’t go well for them
I have never gotten over it, I probably never will. But I got lonely and knew something needed to fill the void that had been created, so when the time was right I looked for another friend.
I had fallen in love with the breed, so I spoke to another local registered breeder. The day I walked into the pen, this ball of fur bit my toe, fell over himself and barked at me-spunk! Ty was born with a genetic ‘defect’ on his back. A scar where hair won’t grow, and was therefore deemed as not suitable to show, so they were trying to get rid of him quick. A Bargain basement puppy-we were well suited. So he became mine.
Tyler is now 12, and still thinks he’s a puppy at times, but mostly is a grumpy old man and great foster brother. He creaks in Winter and is becoming more stubborn, but I figure he deserves to be.
Three years ago, even though Ty had accepted him as ‘Dad’, my husband decided he wanted a friend of his own, so we picked out Isabella (Aka Issy, Bella, Bee or Boombah). Issy is a black LabXKelpie with a lot of love and separation anxiety and we love her to bits too.
Recently our two have become foster brother and sister to four dogs and counting, in our quest to try and help save other dogs less fortunate through such great rescue organisations as Arctic Breed Rescue and fetching Dogs rescue. They play with, accept and mentor the fosters as best they can, and set them straight when they need to be.
My brother has sadly recently lost his dog/best friend confidante GSP Monty at age 13.
Another friend lost his beautiful Beagle girl Hershey just last week. They are both in my thoughts, as is everyone else who have ever lost a loved pet. It sucks. It really sucks. Bad.
The only thing that makes it any easier at all, is knowing they are free from pain and in a better place. And to all those who doubt…of course dogs go to heaven..all they know how to do is love, why wouldn’t they? 🙂