If any one out there is actually reading my blog, or following my tweets, then you will have noticed that I spend a lot of time talking about Alba. You will also know that I have another dogter, Willow. Now you can be forgiven for thinking that Alba is my favourite but I want to set the record straight…I have no favourites, I love both of my girls equally. And to prove it I’ll tell you a little about Willow.
First a little bit of history. I have always loved dogs, I have always wanted to have a dog in my family but I did not achieve this goal until I turned 40. When you’re a kid you have to abide by your parents rules, we were allowed fish and budgies and bunny rabbits. We did have a dog once when I was about three, but he used to take me for a walk, or should I say drag and he liked to 'play’ with the cattle in the field at the bottom of our garden. Needless to say the farmer didn’t appreciate this, so rusty, after a very short visit with us, went to another home.
Then as many of us do in early adulthood, I moved from one rental apartment to another and pets of any description were not an option. Even when I bought my first place, a modest two bedroom unit, I still was not in a position to own a dog.
So, I am now forty with a husband and a house with a garden…come in doggy! I had been researching for months as to which breed to get, I won’t bore you with those details, suffice it to say for about four months my poor husband lived and breathed dogs. We finally decided on a White German Shepherd, found a breeder with a pregnant bitch and went to see her. We were not impressed. We thought the dogs had no personality, they showed no interest in us, were not playful…plain old boring. However, if we knew then what we know now, we would have realised that the dogs were simply well trained.
On the way home that day we passed a sign saying German shepherd pups for sale, on a whim we pulled in, just to see what they were like. We left half an hour later and headed straight to the nearest pet store, where we spent a ridiculous amount of money in preparation for our new baby.
Willow Bear was ten weeks old, she and her brother were the only pups left, and she was the most beautiful thing we, notice I said we and not I, had ever seen. Golden brown puffed-up fur that made her look big but when we picked her up, our hands sunk into that deep luxurious coat until they made contact with her little frame. She was like a little tapeworm that quickly wriggled her way into our hearts, now that tapeworm has grown into a boa constrictor and I do not know what we will do when she has to leave us. Enough of that!
That evening neither of us got any sleep, my husband would have, if I had let him, but I didn’t. I was excited and worried and sleep was not going to come to me that night. Did we buy everything we need? Will the collar fit? What if we can’t find the food she likes? Will she slip on the timber floors? You have no idea. At about three am I tapped hubby on the shoulder, for the hundredth time and asked, My God…what if she doesn’t like me? He’d had enough. He sat up in bed and gave me a Taste of Reality when he asked; 'Can you hear yourself? Do you even know what you’re going on about? You sound like a crazy woman. She’s a dog! All you have to do is be here and she’ll love you. Now shut up and go to sleep.'
I did see his point and I did shut up, but I didn’t go to sleep, how could I? I was getting a puppy in the morning; my Willow Bear was coming home.
|Willow Bear at 10 weeks|
|Willow at 8 months|
|Willow at 2 years|