I’ve always been a dog person probably not by choice per say. I think it comes inherited. My parents always had just a dog and that was that.
I had two dogs through out my childhood, Inkey and Penny. Inkey lived for a little over 15 years and then Penny lived a good 10 years after.
When I got married I became Wisdom’s step mom. Hub’s dog. Once Wisdom passed, it was only inevitable that we get another dog.
Anakin somehow adopted me as his, even though he was supposed to be C’s dog. Funny how it always seems to work that way. The pet claims you, whether you choose them as yours or not.
He is my boxer malamute mix more boxer than malamute. He’s my constant companion whether I want him to be or not. He absolutely cannot stand for me to be out of his sight. If I move from the couch to the recliner he also must get up and move with me.
His needs are rather simple; food, water, belly itch, and a daily toss of the ball. He’s actually very vocal about his needs to a comical extent. When he needs a back or belly rub he lifts my legs up to rub against his back. He will do this several times and then roll on his back for a rub.
No matter what it is that I’m doing, his ball is more important. Ball time is anytime that I happen to be engaged in something else. Story time is ball time. Blog time is ball time. Fixing dinner would also be ball time. It almost becomes habit to not even think twice about my multi-tasking ability of throwing a ball in the middle of typing a post or reading a blog. I try to throw it hard enough so it goes a fair distance without breaking a window or something. He’s always back with in seconds for me to throw it again though. If he can’t find a ball he always finds a substitute; the boys stuffed animals, an action figure with it’s arm chewed off (wonder who the culprit is on that?), or even a rock if he’s lucky.
My favorite quirk about my dog is the process he buries his bones. I’ve found chew bones in my shoe piles in the closet, bones in the laundry basket, bones behind the T.V. and the couch. He chews up everything else, but bones those he buries. I haven’t figured it out.
He’s the sweetest dog ever and would never hurt a fly, except when it comes to the vacuum cleaner. His nemesis. I’ve never seen a dog bark and attack a vacuum like he does. At least I know I’m safe from any attack vacuums.
I love him like a 4th son and I’m pretty sure he believes he is the 4th son in our family. I’m not sure what I would do with out his constant companionship and protection against the evil vacuum.
Here’s Annie after first arriving to our new house.