Our D-O-G

First, I love my new lens.

Second, I love my dog.

Sure I don't like finding his hair everywhere, his smell, the way it sounds when he obsessively and constantly licks some part of his body, waking up in the middle of the night to his snoring, tripping on his 88 lb mass in the middle of the night when I get out of bed to pee, the trail of water constantly on the floor from his sloppy drinking habits, the way he eats piles of cat poop in our neighbors yard, the way he jumps on our furniture when we leave the house, and forking out $50 a month in dog food and four times that amount each time we take him to the vet. But I really, really don't like watching him struggle to get up from the laying down position, the fact that I can't run more than three miles with him anymore, how gray he is getting, how cloudy his eyes are and noticing his loss of hearing.

The other night I had a dream that we gave him away in preparation for out upcoming move. Then, in the middle of the dream I wanted him back. We went to get him back but the family had already given him to someone else, and so on and so on and we couldn't find him. It was an awful dream.

I don't want another dog once he passes. Ever. For many reasons. But I am thankful for how Blake has been a part of our family and how good he is with Andrew.

I wrote this in my journal a year or so ago but never shared it here:

The first time I saw Blake was in September 2001. I came home from a 15 hour shift to find this little brown fur ball in the middle of a peach blanket on our family room floor. He was a birthday/anniversary gift from my Jason.

I cried. I always cry when I am surprised. No matter what. I cried from exhaustion, having been working through one of the most trying times our country has ever seen. I cried out of happiness, he was so stinkin' cute! I cried because I didn't want him, I didn't think two working "parents" would be able to provide him with the attention he required.

Blake quickly became more than a dog, he was our baby. He slept in our bed, laid on the couch to watch T.V. with us, swam with us in our pool, traveled with us, ran with us each day...he was the king of the household. That is until a little tiny Prince arrived. Blake quickly took a back seat, no longer seen as our baby but as a dirty, smelly, drooling, cat poop eating (dare I say) dog.

His bed is now a dog bed on our bedroom floor which gets moved to the floor near the couch when we watch T.V. We moved from the house with the pool. Due to the amount of gear we carry for Andrew when we travel, there is no room for Blake in the car so he frequents the kennel. My hands now grip the handle of a jogging stroller when I run instead of a leash. Sometimes I don't realize until 10:00 am that Blake hasn't been fed or let out. I don't remember the last time he was treated with a raw hide or chew toy partly because I don't think of those things and partly because they cause such a mess when he chews them up it is one less thing I want to deal with.

However, despite his demotion within our domestic hierarchy, one thing remains constant: Blake never complains. Despite a missed feeding, Andrew biting tugging his ears or tail, getting rammed repeatedly by a toy, or the void of roaming the neighborhood sniffing all the world has to offer, Blake remains calm and patient. He still greets us with a wagging tail upon entering the house and searches frantically for us if we leave the room. He still remains loyal and dependable to his neglectful owners. He still worships the ground we walk on and always will.

One day last week we took a family walk, Blake included. We passed a woman gardening in her yard who commented, "What a beautiful dog!" I politely thanked her but thought to myself, "What a beautiful dog? Do she not see my adorable Andrew in the stroller? She must not have kids, otherwise she wouldn't have commented on the dog."

Immediately I gasped at myself. What a horrid thought! First, that I was insulted she did not comment on Andrew (how prideful and selfish is that?). Second, I realized how much I truly have been neglecting Blake.

So this morning, I got up with the sun, grabbed his leash and collar, and took Blake for a run. He used to be able to run 5 or 6 miles with me but he only lasted about 2.5 miles before he started dragging behind. Another sign of the lack of attention. I was happy (and felt safer) with my running partner and hope to do it again tomorrow. I am also thankful for the realization that I need to make a little more time for Blake during the craziness of our day. He is still only a dog, but he is part of the family.