|
My Shar-Pei, Hotai, is a nightmare dog. We adopted him two years ago last October because our first 'pei had died and our Chow was in a deep depression (she wouldn't eat or sleep, she just kept pacing). He expected him to be calm and sweet, like our first 'pei, but instead, we got a wrinkly demon. He literally climbed the walls, chewed everything not nailed down (and some stuff that was), screamed like a child who'd been stabbed at anything interesting (and since he had doggy ADD, everything is interesting), and was morally opposed to housetraining. My partner and I argued endlessly over him. Will was ready to throw in the towel and take him back to the shelter, I negotiated with him to at least keep the dog until we could get him into a no-kill shelter, which could take months. I worked with him for hours on end, training him to at least fake some obedience. I felt a duty to improve his behavior, and I felt some affection for him, but no actual love.
Until one night, last spring. Hotai was all tired out from jumping and screaming in the backyard until dark. We brought him into the house and he snuggled his filthy, wrinkly hide up under my legs, which is his oh-so-subtle way of saying he's ready to be petted. I began lightly smacking his rear and sides (did I mention he likes it rough?) while singing "If I knew you were coming I'd have baked a cake" and thinking of the first day we had him, how he'd figured out how to open the kitchen door and crawl up on the counter to devour three pound cakes my partner had baked for his office. Suddenly he turned and looked at me deeply, with perfect love the way only a dog can do. He'd stopped wiggling, his tail stopped wagging, he just stood, stock still, staring deep into my eyes. Then, he dropped his head and licked my hand once, and stared back at me again, turned around and shoved his head under my armpit so I could hug him close to me. He buried his face under my hair, next to my neck, and gave a deep, wet Shar-Pei snort into my ear.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was that. My heart had been stolen by a poorly-behaved dog with an anxiety disorder and apocalypic gas. He's still a great big four-legged pain in the ass. But he's my pain.
|
Printer-friendly format
Email this thread to a friend
Bookmark this thread
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
