Ellie, you're killing me.Your first road trip with us when we picked you up from your foster family was a foreshadow of life with you, our new baby. You never poked your head out of the window like other dogs. You were two years old. What Golden Retriever doesn't like the wind in her face? You stayed in the floorboard from Chattanooga to Montgomery. And you made the car smelly all the way home.
You wouldn't get near us when we brought you home but stayed in our closet only to come out when we coaxed you with pieces of steak we kept in our pockets. When our neighbors came to welcome you to the street, you were not in the greeting mood.
You would run off when you could and when we called you, you would look over your shoulder and keep going with that over the top donkey kick of yours.
You refused to get into your crate no matter what kind of food we threw in there. You even convinced me to get in there first to show you it wasn't so bad, but you didn't hold up your end of the bargain. I ended up giving it to our neighbors whose dog knew how to follow commands.
I had to literally drag you into obedience school because you would not get out of the car. We had to have help to get you in the door every time. You did not enjoy school like the other dogs seemed to. But we finished the course and you were at the top of the class. Your only break was when a man with a booming voice interrupted our final exam. All of our practice paid off even though you didn't seem to want to go like the other dogs.
When Jetta and Ford would come to get you for a walk with their mom, Kathy, you would run off with them and not pay attention when we pleaded with you to come home. We hunted you down in the country more times than I can count. You didn't come when Clark whistled or called like the other two dogs.
You were a Golden Retriever!! But you would slink into the other room if we threw a ball. You refused to fetch a ball even when I put it in my mouth to show you how retrieving works. And when we went to the huge dog park at Shelby Farms, you would not go in the water after a stick. You would wallow like crazy in the hot and sticky mud on the edge of the lake until you got ear fungus from all the gook in your ears. You never learned to swim like the other dogs. You just sat on the edge and watched the others frolicking in the water.
After your first year with us, you began to approach people with a waggy tail and you followed me around like a shadow attached to my heels.You busted into the bathroom while I sat on the toilet. You would peek into the closet to make sure I was in there when I was getting dressed. You alarmed us of oncoming storms long before they arrived by helping yourself to our shower floor. You loved your walks, chasing squirrels, and wallowing---always the wallowing. Every few feet you would throw yourself onto the ground, kick your feet skyward, and begin to writhe on the grass. I would tell you to wait and hold the leash tight so that you wouldn't wallow in the dirt before we made it to a better place to scratch your back. Our walks were not like the other dogs'.
And you know what? I loved that you were not like other dogs. You made our lives interesting and funny and memorable. I would not have traded you for any of the other dogs that were predictable and obedient and compliant. I will always remember your sweet disposition, your quiet demeanor, your stubborn streak, and your constant attentiveness to me, down to your kisses for me this morning. You were not like the other dogs. You were perfect.
You wouldn't get near us when we brought you home but stayed in our closet only to come out when we coaxed you with pieces of steak we kept in our pockets. When our neighbors came to welcome you to the street, you were not in the greeting mood.
You would run off when you could and when we called you, you would look over your shoulder and keep going with that over the top donkey kick of yours.
You refused to get into your crate no matter what kind of food we threw in there. You even convinced me to get in there first to show you it wasn't so bad, but you didn't hold up your end of the bargain. I ended up giving it to our neighbors whose dog knew how to follow commands.
I had to literally drag you into obedience school because you would not get out of the car. We had to have help to get you in the door every time. You did not enjoy school like the other dogs seemed to. But we finished the course and you were at the top of the class. Your only break was when a man with a booming voice interrupted our final exam. All of our practice paid off even though you didn't seem to want to go like the other dogs.
When Jetta and Ford would come to get you for a walk with their mom, Kathy, you would run off with them and not pay attention when we pleaded with you to come home. We hunted you down in the country more times than I can count. You didn't come when Clark whistled or called like the other two dogs.
You were a Golden Retriever!! But you would slink into the other room if we threw a ball. You refused to fetch a ball even when I put it in my mouth to show you how retrieving works. And when we went to the huge dog park at Shelby Farms, you would not go in the water after a stick. You would wallow like crazy in the hot and sticky mud on the edge of the lake until you got ear fungus from all the gook in your ears. You never learned to swim like the other dogs. You just sat on the edge and watched the others frolicking in the water.
After your first year with us, you began to approach people with a waggy tail and you followed me around like a shadow attached to my heels.You busted into the bathroom while I sat on the toilet. You would peek into the closet to make sure I was in there when I was getting dressed. You alarmed us of oncoming storms long before they arrived by helping yourself to our shower floor. You loved your walks, chasing squirrels, and wallowing---always the wallowing. Every few feet you would throw yourself onto the ground, kick your feet skyward, and begin to writhe on the grass. I would tell you to wait and hold the leash tight so that you wouldn't wallow in the dirt before we made it to a better place to scratch your back. Our walks were not like the other dogs'.
And you know what? I loved that you were not like other dogs. You made our lives interesting and funny and memorable. I would not have traded you for any of the other dogs that were predictable and obedient and compliant. I will always remember your sweet disposition, your quiet demeanor, your stubborn streak, and your constant attentiveness to me, down to your kisses for me this morning. You were not like the other dogs. You were perfect.
