The great thing about blogs is that as you document your daily life, it becomes easy to scroll back to past events and reminisce. I did that today. Way back to March 1, 2006. An important anniversary forgotten and not acknowledged. Until now.
It was on that day that we decided to adopt our faithful friend, Humphrey. It was also the day the cats stopped speaking to us.
We got Humph from a shelter. He is a cross between: a) a Rottweiler and a German Shepherd, b) a Rottweiler and and Irish Wolfhound, c) a German Shepherd and an Airedale Terrier, or d) all of the above. The answer is e) we have no freakin’ clue. People, especially strangers, love to guess but we just can’t figure it out. It’s almost more fun not knowing. We also don’t know how old he is. The folks at the shelter estimated at 9 months to a year old last March, but he could easily be younger or older than their guess and we would be none the wiser.
He had been abandoned by his family and left to fend for himself on the mean streets of Petawawa for over three weeks in late January/early February of ’06, the coldest months of the year. The reason we know this is that the former owner told a shelter volunteer that they decided against having a family pooch, opened the door and, less than politely, asked him to leave (translation: gave him a swift kick in the ass). Who does that? And by ‘that’ I mean first throw a dog out AND then tell someone that you did.
That family missed out on a very fun-loving, affectionate, adorable, hilarious, and somewhat hard of hearing pet (translation: he often ignores when he’s being called). He’s awesome to have around, which is mostly underfoot when carrying a baby, laundry or anything else ackward and heavy. He is my very own guard dog during night runs or when Dan is away and he has recently become Jaia’s personal bodyguard, hovering around her when she cries.
Looking back to a year ago, and knowing what I know now about the ownership of a 70lb dog, I would not change a thing. Well, I might make him less sheddy and a bit smaller (smaller dog = smaller poops). But overall I’m glad he joined us and we would not be the same without him.
Happy Anniversary, Buddy.