Trouble Love [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

In a surprise twist, Dogga now answers to the name, “Trouble”. It could that in his old age his alter ego is ascendant.

He’s always had two distinct personalities. During the daylight hours, in constant movement, running endless circles, we call him “Crazy Boy”. At night, he is distinctly different, calm and quiet; we call him “Sweet Boy”.

I can’t recall how we discovered his alter ego. One minute he was Crazy Boy and the next he was responding to Kerri’s call, “Trouble!” We performed a specificity-check and called him other names. He rolled his eyes and refused to respond. “Here Trouble!” brought an immediate running-wag-a-wag response. “I think his name is Trouble!” she said.

“What took us so long?” I asked.

We wondered if originally Farmer Don called him Trouble, and perhaps, after 11 years, we were just discovering his real name. Farmer Don needed to find a home for him and no one wanted him because he was, unusual for an Aussie puppy, mostly black. We imagined Farmer Don saying, “You’re my little Trouble-Dog!”

These days Dogga né Trouble complains when he doesn’t get his way. He groans (like me) when he lifts himself from the floor. He snores at night. He licks the achy joints on his front legs. He is, no matter his name, our Trouble, our Crazy Boy, our Sweet Boy, our Dogga-Dog. We are infinitely richer for the daily sweet trouble that he brings us.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TROUBLE

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Love Your World [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

It’s simple. Dogga wants to be where we are. He reads us like a book. He anticipates our every move and makes certain our passage is clear of marauders.

He does not split himself in confusion. He does not hold onto the past. He never worries about the future. He is all in, every moment. His happiness is sourced in our happiness. When we are on opposite sides of the house he places himself directly between us.

Last night, we watched him struggle to get up from the floor. We caught each other’s eyes, said nothing. I remembered the moment, years ago at farmer Don’s farm, that the little Aussie puppy ran to us and sat at our feet. He chose us. In that moment, we became his whole world and I do not exaggerate to write that he became ours, too. We chose him. Our whole world.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DOGGA

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