First things first, this is NOT an accurate picture of me. I have no piercings and don’t wear earrings.
I do, however, love polka dots in the summer time. With the Summer Solstice 2023 passing yesterday, I need to find my collection. Summer will arrive someday. When it does, we’ll go from our costal-like spring to desert bake. All in one day, most likely. For now, we’re still in the mid-70’s this week.
I need to get some things off my chest about Oliver. Sneaky little brat. After reading yesterday’s blog, I must agree. Every story has two sides. Let me tell you a little about mine.
Oliver came to me through God. There is no other explanation. VST and I looked and looked for months for the right dog. A few days before Christmas 2018, I found this little picture of Oliver on the internet. What a porky little DORK!! All his brothers and sisters had been snatched up, leaving him to hang out alone.
How much trouble could one little dog be? Really. He was 12 lbs. when we met him on Christmas Day in the parkin lot of a huge casino. With snow everywhere, I couldn’t even watch him walk. From the breeder’s arms to mine, into the truck, and home. On our long drive up the mountain sat one very scared being, trembling at the thought of the unknown.
I settled down by the time we arrived home.
Oliver grew up on the side of Mt. Davidson in Virginia City, Nevada. He looks a lot like the character, Falcor on the movie, Never Ending Story.
After 4.5 years together, I know some things about him and he knows some things about me. I have learned to accept his shortcomings, which are more than just his 4″ legs. On most days, we get along pretty good. But, no mistake. Oliver is a difficult dog. Sneaky. Stubborn. Persistent. Cunning. Adorable. Loveable.
It’s the adorable and loveable parts that keep him here at Winterpast. There are days when I wonder why I torture myself with this untrainable hound. Many days……… Through his puppyhood, it was MOST days.
Early on, I came up with the 3/4 plan. 3/4 of the time, I’m on call as HIS pet. I’ll do whatever he needs to remain happy. I’ll attempt to train him, while becoming more trained myself. I’ll be patient and loving. I’ll do my best to be a good dog mom. One week a month, Oliver must go have some fun at puppy camp for his mental health and mine.
Extreme? There IS something extreme about this. Life with Oliver 3/4 of the month.
Oliver comes when he wants. He might sit, but it’s hard to tell because he is so close to the ground. He pees outside, but only because he likes too, usually on the patio. He barks whenever he feels the need. He loves stealing things only to hide under the dining room table, where he’s quite safe. He has learned to beg effectively and incessantly for anything he wants. He attempts to counter surf, but so far, can only jump about four feet in the air from a standing position. Oliver is ON much more than he is OFF. It can be exhausting.
Sunday, as he told you, he disappeared. So many things run through one’s mind when their dog runs away.
WHY???
Was the dog food not tasty?
Not enough treats?
More ear scratches needed?
Or, is there just no brain matter in that little skull. Just the will to follow a scent.
With Oliver, the last thought is probably close to the truth.
In those 90 minutes, I did think about life without Oliver.
Peaceful.
Non-stressful.
Freedom to go without planning for him.
No hidden poop to step in.
No responsibility for another life.
As the minutes ticked away, my inner voice was becoming louder with one dreadful thought.
NO MORE OLIVER.
Oliver is draped with my phone number. He has his Rabies tags with his vet’s number. His collar is stitched with his name and phone number in bright yellow letters. Another tag hangs around his neck giving all necessary information. If someone found him on a day he went exploring, they’d call. They might be sucked into his cuteness for a moment, but, make no mistake, within 24 hours, they’d pay ME the reward to take him back.
By minute 89, while creating a “Missing Dog” post, my heart was breaking at the reality of his absence. Oliver is really a good match for me. He might not be as stupid as he is creative, giving me something to worry about. He certainly has stepped up to the plate when it comes to being a Grieving Gardener’s partner. He lost VST, too.
When Oliver was found in the garage by his new best friend, MM, there was a celebration. He zoomed around with Wookie and immediately begged for a Greenie. He went outside to water the flowers and came in for a bite of dinner. Finally, he came, and for a very long time, snuggled next to me on the couch. Two old friends that need each other. Two best friends that have a complicated relationship.
Since being locked in the garage, Oliver has turned over a new leaf. Just a few weeks from his 5th birthday, he is taking life a little slower these days. Not as many immature antics. He still goes crazy when Wookie is around, but only to show off a little. Then, it’s back to the new Oliver. The one that really likes his naps.
As for me, each day I’m more appreciative of this little roommate of mine. I need to help him out a bit. After all, life without thumbs is a beast. I’m his ride to visit Wookie because he’s way to short to drive himself. I know how he likes his breakfast and dinner.
That sums up my side of the story. All’s well that ends well. As Joni would say, “You don’t know what you’ve lost ’til it’s gone.”
Whatever you do, do something extra for your pet. Five minutes extra with the ball. A few extra pats for being good. A extra snuggle now and then. If they could only talk, eh?
More tomorrow.