Monday, July 6, 2015
how I got my dog
This is my dog, Fizzy, he's a rescued border collie x kelpie and today is our third anniversary or "gotcha day" if you are familiar with rescue terminology. Since he is such an important part of my life, I thought I'd share how miraculous it seems to me that he is mine, and the magic he works daily on our family. To be honest, I don't think we'd have made it this far without him.
Fizzy is my very first dog. I never had a dog when I was a child. I wanted one desperately. I don't think any child has ever been sent more gaga for want of a dog. We would be out and about as a family and I would see a dog, with a collar, and tags, and a family of its own on the horizon somewhere, and I would be crying and begging my parents to save this poor, wretched homeless dog that needed us. Loudly. Passionately. Blind to all the facts. I am sure many a family left in a hurry "quick Marge, put the dog in the car and let's get out of here!"
I was hysterical in my desperation to have a dog. To add fuel to the fire, my Dad was always whistling or singing 'How much is that doggy in the window'. He's not an evil genius or anything, he's just oblivious to the effect he has on the people around him.
I left home, lived in student housing (no pets allowed), lived in share houses (no pets allowed), lived in rentals (no pets allowed) and dreamed of the day of owning my own home and buying a dog even before fully furnishing the place... and somehow ended up back with my parents, and nothing wears away your morale more than being an adult and needing your mummy and daddy's permission to get a dog.
I wasn't overly hopeful about the chances of getting a dog - my parents never gave me any signs of hope that they like dogs at all.... they didn't want to pat dogs when visiting other homes and had steadfastly resisted all forms of begging and pleading for over 20 years.
But my Mum knows how much I need pet therapy for my mental health, and a 19 year old cat that poops on our beds during the night was a) not going to live forever and b) thankfully, not going to live forever. I said to Mum, "Mum I'm never going to have kids, and all I've ever really wanted was a dog. What if I die and I've never even had that experience of owning a dog?" (Oh Yes, I Did) and she told me that when my poor old scared cat left our lives I could get a dog.
Dad said "it will have to be an outdoor pet" and I said yes, mainly, but we've got to at least let is sleep in the laundry at night. So he made a pet gate for the end of our hallway. I still was a bit nervous about his attitude to our potential new pet, but Mum assured me he would be the softest of all of us and would let it in even if we didn't want him to.
And she was right. My dad, freaking loves this dog. My dad has never raised his voice to this dog, he is more patient and kindly with the dog than with us... but bygones....
We adopted a friendly but frightened, beautiful 8 month old boy named Tizzy (I renamed him Fizzy) and from the first day he has brought us nothing but joy. He is the most perfect pet we have ever had. He is gentlemanly, eager to please, grasps his place in the home (he never jumps on their bed or the couch) he doesn't dig, or bark, or steal our food, he is gentle and exceptionally patient with children, he brings joy to the elderly nearby who have no pets, and is everybody's favourite dog. They tell me every day.
My parents say "you could not have gotten a better dog" and I glow.
Fizzy is amazing, he has brought magic into our home. It brings me joy to see that he is pet therapy for both my parents and not just me. I accept many things about my parents that I previously would have fought them on because I think "they let me have a dog, let go of it". We laugh together, we enjoy his antics, we enjoy his love, we share his love.
For three years we have had better lives because he is with us.