This is my dog:
He is the one spinning, you know, with the four legs. The others are my old roommates. They are cool, but not what this post is about.
This post is about Jarvis.
Jarvis is a mostly Australian Shepherd (the rest of him is clearly handsome gentlemen) that I got at the pound two years ago. I was a young thing, just rented a house with a yard, had a soul sucking call center job that paid pretty well, I was as well off as I’d ever been. I thought, I will get a dog! So I wandered into my local shelter and looked at the dogs.
Dog 1: Chihuahua
Dog 3: Pit bull
Dog 4 Pit Bull
Dog 5 Chihuahua
Dog 6 Mutant chihuahua/ pit bull hybrid
I begun to despair. I wanted a DOG, not some sort of rat in dog suit. And while I don’t subscribe to the pit bull’s are killers school of thought, they are not my kind of dog temperament wise. What was I going to do? Obviously I couldn’t go home and come back another day. I needed a dog NOW.
And then I saw him. huddled in the corner of the final cage. A perfectly round ball of brown fluff. I walked over, not daring to hope. I reached my hand to the pen, snaking my fingers through the bars.
Then a little head emerged miraculously from the fluffy round thing. He fixed his brown eyes on me. Sniffed, and then licked me. Once.
I was in love.
And not I want a second date sort of love. I mean, I can spend the rest of my life with you, let’s get matching tattoos and then get Chinese food until we die sort of love. His soulful eyes, his pink tongue. The way he was clearly calm and relaxed, therefore wouldn’t require me to play ball for hours on end. I was hooked.
It wasn’t until I took him home that I discovered he had kennel cough. His disposition was a sham, a medicine and sore throat induced sham.
Fast forward two years and you will find me, throwing a ball across an arroyo. For HOURS.