Hops in the Right Direction: The Dogs Around Me

Having a dog is awesome.  No, really.  Even after moving, when Prada is settling in by marking the living room floor (thanks for that, by the way) and establishing a new routine for herself (by waking me up half an hour before my alarm goes off with a request to be let outside), having a dog is fantastic.  Something about coming home after a long workday to a a fluffbomb of excitement is so validating.  And sure, it's twenty to six in the morning, but when I carry her outside to go potty and she nestles her head under my chin sleepily, it's hard to mind too much.

My dog makes me feel like a superstar every damn day.

Now I live in a household with, altogether, a Dude, three dogs, and Stink the much-maligned cat.  So let me introduce you to the new dogs around me.

Benny and Blink are brothers of about seven years of age.  They're mixed breeds--definitely some Australian Shepherd in there.  Both are handsome merles:  Benny is mostly black with a bit of grey, and Blink is mostly white with a few small, black spots.  Blink is also blind and deaf--but don't let that fool you.  He is a smart, well-adjusted dog who loves running around the yard and exploring parts of the house he's really not supposed to be in.

When you open the door to let the dogs into the backyard, he feels the change in air movement or temperature and knows.  He knows when you open the closet door that houses the dog food, too.  He has the layout of the house memorized, so as long as you don't move furniture, he gets around just fine, using the top of his head as a bumper on the walls and furniture as guidance.  His favorite game to play seems to be "I'm not supposed to go over there and I know it because you're blocking my progess.  So I'll sneak to the left or the right and you'll never know because I can't see you, so you definitely can't see me either."  He's a riot.

Benny is just as much a character.  All he wants out of life is to be loved on and simultaneously not seen.  So if I'm on the floor playing with Prada, he'll sneak up behind me and try to join the game in a casual, "you'll never notice" way.  One time, flopped down on the couch, I stretched my arms back and over the arm of the couch, palms down.  Suddenly, there was a dog head in my hands.  But when I sat up to see, Benny had already retreated around the corner.  It was like a sneak attack of affection.  If Prada makes me feel like a superstar, Benny acts like the paparrazi.




Benny:  "Oh, do you see me sitting here?  Oh geez.  That's awkward."


Having a dog is awesome.  Being surrounded by them makes me very, very happy.


(True:  You can learn more about merle Aussies and the sight and hearing defects that can occur here.)