After we moved into the house I found myself dog-sitting a sweet pup named Dahlia for a friend of mine. I swear she must have been part cat, because she was terrified of water! So much, in fact , that if the neighbor’s sprinklers were on, she wouldn’t go out into OUR back yard. But we had some good times during her brief visit.
After she went back home, Jason asked if his dog, Doo (as in Scooby Doo) could come live with us. I was a little skeptical. I had some strict dog rules (no getting on the furniture, or beds, stay out of the kitchen, etc.) Despite the fact that I was dog-sitting not to long ago, I worried about the house and my belongings getting covered in hair. Not to mention the fact that I’m actually allergic to dogs. But, I thought that Doo should be w/ Jason. You know… all that “man’s best friend” stuff and whatnot.
So Doo came to live with us. He’s a black Border Collie/Rottweiler mix w/ curly black fur. He’s pretty tall, although thin and lanky. Still, a good-sized dog. He’s well-behaved in his old age (11 maybe?) and listens very well. But my OCD flares up when I see his dog hair everywhere.
So what do I do?
I get another dog!
Yeah… I know… my brain contradicts itself all the time.
Try living in here… it’s even worse.
Anyway, I start browsing for dogs and then I fell in love. I saw the cutest Pembroke Corgi listed at a kill shelter about 150 miles away. He had just been listed that day, so (with Jason’s blessing) I called and requested to meet him. It turns out, a local animal rescue group was picking up some other dogs from that shelter so they said they would pick him up too and drive him here to meet me, Jason, and Doo. We were all introduced, the little guy had an attitude but we figured that getting him fixed would probably help that issue. We decided to adopt him, and so Hank joined our family.
Well… you see, it has always been a dream of mine to have a corgi and name him Hank (I have some strange dreams). And it was either Hank, or Huck… like Huckleberry Finn. But considering we had a three-year-old staying with us on weekends… we didn’t want him to stumble with the name “Huck” and accidentally say something else… So Hank it is!
Now, you remember all the rules I mentioned about the dogs?
Apparently I didn’t. Because those little pups are spoiled! Okay, so they aren’t allowed on the couches still. And they understand the meaning of “get out of the kitchen,” but that whole thing about no dogs being allowed on the bed. Well…. they’re just so cute. We don’t let them sleep up there, but they come up and join us for a movie from time to time.
And about that dog hair? Well Hank is a rather fluffy corgi. Who sheds 2x a year, for about 6 months at a time. I swear, my vacuum weeps every time I pull it out of the closet. If I wait more than a few days between vacuuming, then I have to stop every minute or so to unclog the thing.
But in the end, it’s all worth it because they’re our sweet (mostly) boys. And I couldn’t stand the thought of a dog as wonderful as Hank being put down in that shelter.