We are currently debating the idea of getting a dog. I shouldn’t say ‘debating’ since that’s a bit strong and we are of accord in the thought that a dog would be a jolly nice addition to the household, especially since the demise of the late, great Griffin has left us pet-less for the first time since we’ve been together. Actually it is one of the first times in my entire life that I have been sans furry creature about the place.
In some respects it has been OK in the sense that it grants us a lot more freedom to come and go and not worry about the wellbeing of another resident of the place. But, you know, we really miss not having a pet. I mean, I have my pond fish and they’re quite charming in their own cold-blooded way, but it’s just not the same as a dog or cat.
Wendy has never had a dog, though she is charmed by them in all respects. But she confesses she knows nothing about the caring for and rearing of a canine. I have had dogs and my caveat to her is that caring for a dog is an entirely different matter than sharing digs with a feline. Cats don’t really give much of a damn about their owners and that’s why they make very easy pets. Oh, they’re affectionate enough in their own way, but mainly all they ask for is a bit of food, some fresh litter once in a while, and somebody to clean the hall carpet after they have puked on it — yet again.
Dogs are another matter, which I have attempted to explain. I’ve had three of them in my lifetime. I had my ‘kid’ dog when I was young. I wasn’t all that bonded with him — he was just there when we were playing. He was friendly, dumb and mortally afraid of the malemute that lived up the street, and had good reason to.
Then, in the 1970s and 1980s I had the wondrous Muphy, my border-collie cross. Murph was magnificent. Smart as a tack, friendly as they come and the worst fighter on the planet. He was always getting the snot beaten out of him and the vet bills for stitches were steep. But, he was charming and wonderful and I still miss him after all these years.
When I was with Trudy a few years later we had Simon. He was a beautiful Tibetan terrier and dumber than a sack-of-hammers. Trudy used to call him our very own dumb blonde. He was charming and fun but I missed the intellect of Murphy. When she and I split, the missus got custody of the dog. I didn’t bother fighting it. Anyway, I was living in an apartment by then, so I wouldn’t have been able to accommodate a canine there. That was why I got Griffin.
So, some of the debate centres around the fact I do want a dog as bright as Murphy, so I am gravitating to a border-collie cross. I don’t want a pure border-collie because they are not only highly strung, they just gotta be out herding sheep or they’re lost. They’re working dogs and that has to be respected. We don’t have much in the way of a paddock in our back yard and sheep are notable for their absence at the homestead.
So, a cross would be good.
Now, dog or puppy? Well, I go all wet over puppies. Puppies to me prove there is a benevolent God. But, they’re also a pain-in-the-ass in some ways. They need to be tended to like a toddler and, as with that same toddler you are always cleaning up after them. Then there is training them and maybe even obedience school. It’s a lot of work.
I’m more thinking of a post adolescence female. Males are, quite frankly, too beligerent, whereas bitches never live up to that name at all. They are usually gentle and friendly and softer of personality. That’s OK by me. A spayed female of one or two years of age would be ideal.
We still aren’t fully resolved on the matter, and it may change, but we are at least thinking of going the canine route.
I’ll let you know.