Nine years ago today I stopped to keep a furry dog from darting into the road and to help him find his way home.
Little did I know his home was with me.
Unlike with DeDe, ours has not been an easy relationship. His size, his high activity level, and his breed have forced me to be proactive in ensuring he does nothing to create ill will with others. Complaints about a “dangerous dog” would certainly sign his death certificate, so the woman with the cocky swagger and smart mouth has been fearful and overly-cautious when it comes to Rumpy.
To be sure, Rumpy has suffered from my paranoia. Yet he always forgives me for my fears and my failures. A ruffle of his fur and a cookie make all right with the world for my sweet boy.
Rumpy continues to challenge me to reach beyond my comfort zone. It’s been good for me, but definitely not a path I would have chosen for myself.
As we both grow older, we come to terms with our aches and pains. June Buggie is 17 now. Rumpy was somewhere around 9 months old when we came together, so he’s close to 10. And me? Well, let’s just say she ain’t what she used to be.
I know our days together are numbered, and I remind myself of that each time he wants to stop and sniff for the twenty-eleventh time during the course of our walk.