Our biggest and most-softest-insided dog, Lupin, has always had some social struggles. Being a German Shepherd, I was aware of needing to channel her energy from the beginning and at puppy training, she was quite the showoff.
Embracing Hermione Granger energy, she could sit, drop, wait, and do fifty million other things by 16 weeks old while her classmate compadres were still working on basic bladder control.
What she lacked was capacity for friendship.
And what she had was the world’s most loudest bark.
Her technique for making friends involved choosing one of two primary strategies:
- Screaming and running for the hills as though being attacked and dragged down by a bear
- Barking at a decibel designed for certain deafness
Stella, our old dog who has since left this earthly realm, was really not that helpful. She thought Lupin was a horrendous waste of space, the worst decision we have made, and consequently, spent most of her time ignoring her or speaking in hushed tones that were full of doggy swear words.
That is, until we brought home Frankie. Frankie may be small, but she has the constitution of a firm and solid brick of concrete. She enthusiastic, game, and right up in your business.
Loud barks do not deter her. She will continue to pluck at all your soft bits until you surrender, lower to her level and start to play.
And let me tell you, I’ve never seen two dogs more delighted. If Frankie and Lupin are separate for a time, they smile and lick and frolic. And they run and leap and roll and frisk all day.
Just when I think, it’s too much! Back off! I’m not sure Frankie’s strong enough to take it (after all, Lupin is a beast), she’s leapt up and is back amongst the game. In fact, for the most part, I’m suspicious that she starts it.
It’s impossible not to smile and snort and wince as you watch them dart and play.
They are most definitely a somewhat naughty, hairy Happiness that winds itself through each and every day, and a very worthy Happiness for this moment.
Number 15 to be precise.