Throughout my entire life we have had dogs. As a kid at home, we had Boston Terriers. Cute, well behaved, and minded relatively well. When my wife and I got married, the first dog we had was a miniature Poodle. My wife bought it from some people who had to give it up, according to them. Well, I can see why. This dog might have been small in size, but had an ego the size of France. And it hated me with a passion. It slept on the very foot of our bed, and my wife could push, move or whatever and the dog would do nothing. If I moved a foot into her space, she would growl and snap at me. Outside, we had a border collie, who loved me and my wife both equally. While we had her, she could sense both times that my wife was "with child" and would be very careful around her, not jump or bump, yet she was her usual playful self with me. Weird!
When we moved to town, some people we knew who had fallen in love with the border collie wanted her. They lived way out in the country and had a large fenced yard. So, Brandy went to live there. I maintained visiting rights, though. The poodle went with us to town. We discovered that she wasn't very nice around the baby, so she found a nice home somewhere else.
I said "no more dogs!" Well, down through the years we have had others. We had a Keeshond who was the best dog I had ever owned. But, the hair! And allergies! Alas, she, Miss Teddie, when to live with some other friends. As far as I know, she is still there.
The last dog my wife had was a Pug. She was cute. That's about all. I thought she was so dumb. She would go out, do her business, and come right back in and do it again. We worked and worked with her, and finally she accomplished house breaking. She was a good friend to my wife. As my wife became more disabled with heart and diabetic problems, the Pug would be her constant companion. About 6 weeks before my wife passed away, I came home from work and she said that she was finding a new home for the Pug. I asked why and she said she just thought it was time. I was gone a lot working two jobs and she sometimes couldn't get around well enough to make sure the dog got out when she needed to. Now, I know that she was preparing for what was to come. Our minister told me later that Tilly confided in him that she knew she was going to die. Again...weird!
I said "no more dogs." That lasted for 5 years. Last December, my daughter,Prof, who lives in my "attic" adopted a retired racing Greyhound. Giles was 5 years old, had raced in 47 races, won several and either placed or showed in several more. In his last race, he ran so hard that he broke both of his back feet at the first joint. His owner wanted to have him put down, but his caretaker or handler talked him into giving him to rescue where he received medical treatment and healed.. He was adopted from there.
Giles is the best of pets. Of course he doesn't belong to me, but he lives in my house, so I can claim him, too. He sleeps a lot. I say he has earned it. He doesn't jump on people, he doesn't growl, and I heard him bark once while I had him out in the back yard, because the children in the next yard startled him. One bark! That's all. He's loveable, and kind. He is neat and tidy, And his is housebroken. One accident in the house and that was our fault for being gone longer that he could hold it.
Prof is talking about moving. If she goes, Giles will go with her. After all, he is her dog. I have already told her that I do reserve visitation rights.
Basically, I am really a dog person, though I profess not to be. I just don't want one of my own to tie me down. Not at my age. But, having Giles here is a real treat and a lot of company while Prof is at work and out doing her things with friends. If they move, I will miss having Giles the Wonder Dog, cause as Prof says all the time, "we got the best one."