“Once you have had a wonderful dog, a life without one, is a life diminished” – Dean Koontz
You always cherish your first dog. They’re the dog that teaches you what it really means to have another life depend on you and what it means to be loved unconditionally, even when you’re at your worst. They’re the dog that teaches you patience and understanding, and that if you leave things on the floor, they will get chewed. I had no idea just how much my life would change when I got my very first dog, Floyd.
From the day I brought him home, life suddenly became like a sitcom with Floyd becoming synonymous with a canine version of ‘Dennis the Menace’. He was extremely determined in every ‘task’ he undertook, whether it was the removal of our garden’s underground irrigation system, the delicate stripping of individual leaves off almost every tree and plant in the yard or the destruction of the front fence covering in order to gain a better view of the outside world.
Floyd was also extremely insecure and needy. His separation anxiety saw him scale 6 foot high fences and chase after the cars of his leaving family members. Driving away from the house required strategic planning and SAS-like skills of stealth and non-detection. Floyd was a force to be reckoned with and could proudly chase family cars for great distances and at top speed.
There were times I thought I couldn’t keep Floyd, that he would be better suited to someone else, someone better, someone with a larger yard and a higher fence. But no matter how bad things got or how much trouble he caused, when the commotion he caused had subsided, Floyd would always come and sit down beside me, look up at me with his big brown eyes, his unusually long tongue hanging out and smile. I loved him more in those moments. He looked at me in an almost knowing way, so certain that he would never be going anywhere. And he never did.
No one was ever going to love or be as patient or be as understanding of Floyd as I was and, putting all his flaws aside, he was a great dog. On walks I was always within his eyesight and he made sure I never wandered off or got lost. His favourite game was catching a ball and having you chase him around the yard trying to get it back off him. His manners were non-existent – he would stand on your feet and burp in your face as often as he felt like it. He wasn’t an overly affectionate dog either, but he would follow you into every room so he could lie at your feet and be near you.
You never forget the day you lose your first dog, especially if it’s sooner than it should be. For me it was Valentine’s Day, 2013. Floyd had been struggling with us recently moving house and was constantly escaping to go back to the old house. That morning after I’d left for work, Floyd jumped the fence and inadvertently hung himself. I came home that afternoon with no wagging tail to greet me ever again.
Floyd was never a perfect dog, but that’s what made him so special. He reminded me that you don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of love. Floyd was my best friend, my protector, my family. I wouldn’t have exchanged him for all the well-behaved dogs in the world. And all those moments where Floyd’s chaos and destruction made me want to pull my hair out… they are the memories that now make me laugh and appreciate what a great dog I had.