My Three Sons
I know: I only have two. But Dudley really quite technically counts as a dependant. He is, on some days, far more work than the other two, and, even though he has four legs and pees outside, he really is one of us.
But a small change has come over Dudley in the last 6 months: the beast has calmed down.
He and I are now the same chronological age: 35. And I think that just as my wrinkles and greys are starting to appear, his own age marks are slowly making their way in. It used to be that if he wasn’t in the same breathing space as me all day long, he would howl like a wolf and bark like a hyena. But now he will often escape the crazy noise of the boys and slink into my cool, quiet bedroom and lie in a patch of sun on the carpet. Once he would instantly inhale any scrap of crumb that landed on the floor – so much so that I never had to clean up after feeding baby Kenny. Now he ignores the cheerios and cracker crumbs littering the floor beneath the high chair and instead politely waits for a sliver of steak to come his way. He used to nearly explode if we waited a moment too long to take his morning walk (or Heaven forbid, skip it due to hurricane or blizzard). Now he perks up when he hears, “Wanna go for a run?” but otherwise doesn’t seem to mind the occasional lazy morning.
It’s his demeanor with Cooper, though, that most amazes me. Cooper adores him. He fawns over him. He pats him and strokes him and covers him up with his blankie. And Dudley just sits there calmly and takes it all in. Even yesterday, when Cooper pulled his tail for the first time, Dudley let out a tiny whine and looked at me as if to say, “Hey Lady Who Takes Care of Me and Spawned These Hellions: can you please remove Sticky Fingers here from my arse?”
Here, in fact, is where he sits as I write:
…laying peacefully beneath the desk. He was dozing, but lifted his head as I snapped the shot.
He’s only 5 and a half, but it is a little melancholy to see the puppy years finally wean away. I love you, Dudley!
You mean the puppy years of a Weim finally end? I thought that was a mythical legend started by breeders in an attempt to keep themselves in business. More than once when describing Lance’s antics, someone’s said to me, “oh, he’ll grow out of that. Big dogs have longer puppy years.” My reply, “Really? Because he’s 4.” Kristjana, you’ve given our pack hope. And, as always, some glorious laughter!
September 1st, 2009 | #
I’m laughing aloud to myself as I look across the room to Dudley’s cousin on the couch. Alexa is our 4 (nearly 5)-year-old Vizsla! They are so similar. Glad to be reading you again! 🙂 Congrats on the newest (future) addition, too! I missed that announcement.
October 22nd, 2009 | #