the wild, wild webbs: Love Like Your Dog Does

If you're reading this and you're on Facebook, then you probably already know we lost our oldest dog a few weeks ago. Our sweet Logan was a giant weimaraner who at one point topped out at a hefty (but not fat, we were always promised) 115 pounds. We found him by taking online surveys and searching the Memphis newspapers and eventually after he was grabbed by the scruff of his tiny-but-already-large gray neck from the back of an Arkansas farmer's pick-up truck. This was in early April 1999, eight months before Chip and I were married. He served his original purpose extremely well... he barked loudly and deeply at any stranger that so much as walked along the sidewalk in front of our house in the depths of Memphis. His bark would alert me of strangers even a quarter of a mile from our house after dark when Chip was still at the library studying. He was my guard dog, my walking buddy, my blanket and my pillow. Our first house in Memphis had a beautifully shaded backyard and a dog door into our house that was always open. We eventually moved to a house with no dog door and not a single tree in the backyard. He still greeted us the same when we got home at night, as far as I can remember. We eventually built a dog house and the patio was covered, plus we bought him one of those plastic blue baby pools and filled it up with fresh water every morning which he would sit in all day. He loved us for it, I'm sure.

Eventually, we decided that even though he seemed like he loved us unconditionally, he needed a friend. Long, long story short, we ended up with Macie. Our only dog we've ever had with papers and a "proper" dog name consisting of at least 4 words. We were ill prepared for what kind of effect bringing a female dog into our house would have. It sort-of dawned on us the day we were at the dog park and noticed Logan was fighting a Great Dane in the middle of a pond. He had never really fought before. It really hit home the time we saw him "mark" a male black lab's owner while we were chatting with her (she only noticed the second time he did it). Thus started the whole era of "Logan can't be around other male dogs." We won't even go into the time he had my parents' Jack Russell by the throat.

He really was an amazing dog. I've talked a lot about fighting and goodness knows he killed a bush or two with all of his marking, but he was wonderful, just as long as you weren't a male dog. Or maybe a cat. He didn't much care for cats. He was loving and lovable, he leaned up against you until his 100lbs nearly knocked you over, just to get petted. He could walk on his hind legs like a circus dog and open doors with his nose. We yelled at him a lot. We yelled at him to get off the couch, to go outside, to stop licking the baby's feet. After we had kids, I think we probably forgot to let the dogs inside a lot at night. Or outside in the morning. We probably forgot to feed them way too many times. I wouldn't put it past us to have forgotten to give them water in July when we had 2 toddlers in the house. It was one of the best days of my life when we realized the kids could feed and water the dogs on their own!

I wanted to share this story of Logan. He was 15 when he died. Actually, less than 2 weeks shy of his birthday. He was older than many of your children. He was alive longer than my children will be in the city school system. I spent more time with him in the last 15 years than my own parents. Probably my own spouse. But like all good relationships, I yelled at him, I forgot about him, I left him alone often... when in return he had never yelled, never forgotten me (he was always, always waiting for me when I got home. Every single day of those 15 years) and if he had had his own way, he would have never left me alone (to be fair, I left him, he never left me). I hope my best relationships are a mirror image of my relationship with Logan. I hope people will eventually say "she never yelled at me, she never forgot me, she never left me." Wouldn't that be amazing?