A Girl and Her Dog

16-year-old me decided I would one day own a Sheltie. 23-year-old me decided it was a good idea. Neither version of myself had any idea what I was in for.

I did some research and found a reasonably local breeder, Yvonne. I went to meet her and the mom of the litter I was picking from and the next thing I knew I had put down a deposit on a puppy due in early November.

Yvonne emailed me on November 1, 2011 to let me know Izzie had given birth to five puppies – two girls and three boys. I went to meet them when they were about four weeks old to pick one. I thought I wanted a female since they tended to be cuddlier and sweeter. But Dallas chose me. His littermates all went to pile up to sleep, but he wouldn’t leave me. He sat in front of me, his little feet sliding out from under him on the hardwood floor, determined to stick around as long as I did. I picked him up and he fell asleep in the crook of my arm. I was a goner.

He fooled me.

Four-week-old Dallas was a sleepy baby. When I brought him home on December 30 at nine weeks, he was…not so sleepy. He was, as all puppies are, rambunctious and playful and curious. He was never a bad dog, never destructive, and incredibly easy to house train. But it quickly became obvious that he had some unique quirks.

You see, Dallas is noise-phobic. I didn’t know that was a thing until I talked to my vet about his over-the-top reactions to things like sneezes, the opening of pop cans, thunder, hammering, etc. We ended up putting my dog on a mild anti-anxiety medication. Yes, that exists for dogs. Yes, it feels ridiculous. But yes, it helps. A lot.

He got prettier and prettier as time went on and it soon became obvious he was going to be big for a Sheltie. He grew up beautifully and became a well-mannered, usually well behaved, very sweet companion.

I was living with a friend when I brought Dallas home and that spring decided it was time to get my own place. I’ll never forget moving day. I put Dallas in the car and started it to warm up while I scraped the frost off the windows. Dallas thought the scraper was something to be chased and, as he assaulted my windshield from inside, managed to step on the lock button and lock me out of the car. I had to call my mom, who was a half hour away, to come with my spare key. When we got the car opened, he’d been napping and opened one eye to look at me as if to ask what my problem was and why I was disturbing him.

He was a welcome distraction when I was in university. He made sure I took study breaks as he needed attention and walks, and he kept me laughing when things were stressful.

I bought my own condo in July 2013 when Dallas was not quite two. He handled the move (and the new roommate) like a champ. Then, that December, my boyfriend moved in. I used to half-joke that if my dog didn’t like my boyfriend, the boyfriend would have to go. (We’re married now, so I think that went okay.)

My boyfriend proposed in May of 2016. As he had been for all of our milestones, Dallas was there for that.

A burst pipe in the ceiling in our master bedroom caused a massive flood in the summer of 2016. We had to move out (for four months) for repairs and again, Dallas was a champ. Our two cats were very stressed by it all, but we didn’t need to worry about the dog.

A broken pipe on the third floor of our building caused another flood this year. Dallas was not the most helpful while I was cleaning up water. For some reason he thinks wet towels are fantastic toys and he had the best day “helping” me mop up water.

I’ve lived in apartments with Dallas his whole life. This spring, we’re finally buying a house and he’ll have a yard for his senior years. He loves to lay in long grass and sunbathe in the summer, he loves to crunch through leaves in the fall. He lives for bounding through snowdrifts in winter, and spring runoff and puddles are great fun. I can’t wait for him to have all of that right outside our door.

He barks at things, as Shelties do. People walking by the patio door. People making noise in the hallway of our condo building. Having the door closed in his face when you’re going to the bathroom and need some privacy. He’s got some opinions, and he wants to share them. Age is creeping up on him, slowly but surely, but he refuses to let it get the best of him.

He’s not the best dog, but he’s my dog. And I’m thankful for our many years together.