Sunday, January 25, 2009

An anniversary approaches

Today is the day that, six years ago I met Dante. He was seven months old at the time and had immediately won me over by crawling into my lap and putting his head on my chest, looking up at me as if to say, "You know I'm the most adorable thing in the world and you have to take me home with you." Shortly after that, I signed all the paperwork at the Animal Protective Association of Missouri, and scheduled to pick him up two days later, after he was neutered.

During a reorganization of my paperwork and files today, I came across the "Dante" folder, and looked through the papers. I found the "pick-up slip," which was my receipt and, as if a dog were like dry cleaning, my only way to acquire the dog after the ready time of 11 am on the 27th.

I also still have the slip used by the person who dropped him off at the shelter. They apparently found him somewhere, as a stray, and had him for a month before bringing him in (I actually think they had gotten him and decided to give him up, but that's just me). Looking back at this sheet of information they filled out and thinking about the last six years of having him, I have to laugh.

First, they circled "Interested in Trash." That is an extreme understatement. And this is something I didn't quite appreciate when I first got him, because I always had my trash under the kitchen sink. Oh, sure, he would always go into the bathroom and empty all the tissues and shred them, but it wasn't until going to Maine the first time that I truly understood his obsession. He even learned how to get into my parents' trash can quietly, so we didn't know what he was doing until we heard him chewing and eating whatever the hell he found. And every time we're at the folks, he will at least once shove his whole head into the garbage can. It's adorable.

They also circled "Nervous." Yeah, I would say that. I would say that he is, with the exception of say, Sonya and Chris's Jake, one of the most nervous dogs. Of course, it's only when I leave the house, but still. Even today, if I just go out to do laundry, he freaks and waits by the door, ecstatic as hell when I walk back in.

They did not circle "Afraid of Storms," and dear lord is he ever. Luckily they just don't happen often, so it's not a big thing to worry about.

So the last six years of my life have had this crazy four-legged creature in my life. I think on a weekly basis there is at least one time he pisses me off, and there are plenty of times I wish I didn't have to deal with coming home because he's waiting. There are days when I want to pull my hair out, scream and just flat out cry. But I wouldn't have it any other way. He's my baby.

by Topher at 1:54 PM |