Must love dogs

I have a dog.  Well, to be more accurate, a dog has me.

We named him Stewie because he seemed to have plots being hatched behind his deep brown eyes and fringe.  He was 4 years old, had come from a family who lived in the country, and was nervous of men, especially those with bags or umbrellas.  Don was the only man he allowed near him.  It took about 2 weeks for him to fully train Don to get up, go for walks, and provide snacks on demand.  When Don took a nap, Stewie took a nap, lying in the same position.  When hockey was on, Stewie sat and watched intently. He learned our routines, and promptly took over.  He would wake me every morning at 6, and paw on the bed until I got up.  He would remind Don of the time to come pick me up from work – and the time to take him for walks.

Once we welcomed him into our home, there were certain things that we gave up – the ability to sleep in on weekends; the ability to use the bathroom without a small furry face staring at you; the option to stay curled up under a blanket when it’s cold out.  We gained a tiny, furry alarm clock who does not have a snooze button; a reason to exercise in all weathers; and lost any hope of having a rug lie flat.

He is sitting right now glaring at me as I type – he seems to dislike any time I spend on a keyboard   I have maybe 5 minutes before he starts climbing the side of my chair… Everyone in the building (about 200 families) knows him, and most people have affectionate words for him.  (The ones who don’t also aren’t very pleasant, so we know what they’re like!!)  I describe him as a cat in a dog’s body – he’s not one of your fawning dogs!

I never imagined that there would be a time when I would willingly clean a dog’s teeth, or trim a dog’s fur, or administer medicine.  I definitely never considered going for walks in freezing temperatures, in the rain or at 3am because he had a tummy ache.  And yet, I’ve done all of these and more.  I know that my friends have heard every cute, clever or unique thing he’s done, and they put up with my dotage as I recount how he (this tiny, 7kg dog) drags me up hills and along muddy routes on his walks.

We’ve asked each other several times how we managed before Stewie… and are amazed that a small dog can occupy such a huge space (including stretching over a queen bed!)  He can make himself comfortable anywhere, and is firmly convinced that we can’t do even the simplest tasks without his supervision.

Of course, there is no question that I would change anything about my tiny imperious lord and master   Because of his insistence on walking I’ve lost weight, gained muscle tone and improved my endurance.  I’ve acquired a new winter wardrobe (Nothing like walking the dog to require functionally warm clothing for your sybaritic mall-wandering lady of leisure)  Most of all, though, I am assured that when I get home, there is a little fuzzy welcome wagon, sitting behind the door all ready to be cuddled.  What more could anyone want?