My second-best friend Charlie is a fuzzy dog. When pondering things I need to improve upon during 2014, Charlie had most of the answers.
He’s half king charles cavalier spaniel and half poodle. The idea was to get the best traits of both breeds and Chucko was lucky. He’s smart like a poodle but he’s not high strung and weird and he’s sweet and friendly like a spaniel.
He’s not really my dog. I didn’t want another dog. Our dogs had been shot by someone who didn’t like dogs and it broke my heart. I didn’t want to revisit that sadness ever again. Then one day John said we should “Just go see this cavoodle dog” and would I please go.
We lived in New Zealand at the time and this dog ended up being a 2 1/2 hour drive away. On the way out of the town John suggested that maybe we should stop at the bank and get some cash.
“We are NOT buying another dog, John, I don’t want one.”
“Of course, we’ll just go see and it can’t hurt to have money, can it? We don’t have to spend it. We could have a nice lunch.”
“For THAT much money? It’s gonna be a helluva lunch,” I said.
He kept the conversation on anything but a dog on the drive down. We arrived at the lady’s house and she had 3 of the most wonderful puppies. The owner explained that the mother loved chasing a ball and loved it so much they had to hide it so the dog wouldn’t drive them nuts with it. I laughed. Little did I know he’d be just like her.
I was on the floor with a small white ball of fluff and then I turned around and saw John holding this chocolate brown dog with its little head in the bend of his elbow and he was fast asleep.
“Don’t fall in love, we’re just visiting,” I whispered.
As we listened to information about the cavoodle (cavapoo in the US) I kept looking over at John and thinking, “This battle is lost. I knew it when he got money out of the bank.”
“Maureen, he’s so cute, look at him.”
He was cute. He looked just like a miniature wookie with his hair all pushed back over the top of his head. John gave all the “you don’t have to look after him” and “he wouldn’t be any trouble” and I rolled my eyes. John was beaming. He’s a dog person through and through.
“Oh all right, but he’s YOUR dog.”
In 15 minutes we were headed back north with this ball of fur on the floor at my feet. He never cried, never seemed homesick and was a joy all the way home. We stopped for dog toys and supplies on the way and when we got home it was like he always lived with us. Then we noticed all his toys were gone. Not one was left. We began searching throughout the house and then on John’s side of the bed between the bed and the night stand we found all his new toys carefully stacked up.
So, he IS John’s dog. He’ll always be John’s dog but he’s mummy’s boy. And… he does windows.
As I type this he is lying on the floor between the chair and my feet and that’s where he stays until I turn the chair to get up. If I go downstairs, he’s with me. If I go outside, he’s with me. If I leave the house he sits at the front door and waits for me to return. But he’s John’s dog.
He loves to swim and go to the park and play with Gramps and eat. Sometimes he humps Lucy the cat but I pretend not to see it. They’re best friends and she doesn’t seem to mind – even when he gets the wrong end.
Hope you have a fabulous new year – we’re going to.