I thought it might be nice, after kicking off the blog with our origin story, to spend the rest of the week looking at where we came from, and where we’re going.
Today I’m going to dredge up ancient history and tell you a little bit more about myself!
I was born and raised in Canada, not far from Toronto.
I very much enjoyed growing up there, in a household with a little West Highland White Terrier named Toe Jam. (The deal was my mum got to pick the breed if my da’ got to pick the name. You can tell the sort of silly family we were.)
Toe Jam was my best friend growing up. I remember crawling into her kennel to hang out with her on more than one occasion, and feeding her carrots and popcorn, which were her very favourites. (Mine, too!) We loved to lounge out in the grass in the summers, and play games with the hose. In the winter we built snow forts and played catch with snowballs.
She lived with us until I was fifteen, and then went to live with my grandmother and keep her company. A few short years later she passed away.
Toe Jam was the first, but not only dog I loved growing up.
My best friend in my youth had two Golden Retrievers, Sarge–who I didn’t know nearly long enough, and after his passing Mikey–a goofball who would run circles around the coffee table when riled up, pausing every turn for a quick scratch behind the ears.
I would go over to their house as much to see the dog as my friend (and their adorable lop-eared bunny, too!). Goldens are still one of my favourite breeds, big, beautiful, gentle darlings.
I will always smile when I see them.
How, then, did I end up with a brindle Boxer mutt?
I’ll admit–I just couldn’t get over this face.
It does bother me though, on occasion, that I know so little about where Baby came from and what she’s been through.
She came from the rescue group having been abandoned in a yard, left out on a chain. One would think that meant that she’d lived with a family, or indoors, but the latter I’m certain wasn’t true.
Baby was trained for nothing when she came to me. Not house trained, no basic commands, she got hyper and over-stimulated at the slightest hint of something new, and cowered at sudden noises (especially loud or rustling ones). That being said, she’s made great strides, and while it points to her being extremely under-socialized with household life, she’s always been a great lover of people.
So is it good natured? Or has she had good people in her past, as well as poor?
I’ll never know for sure, and the truth is it doesn’t really matter.
Baby’s forever home is with me, and though sometimes in dark moments I can’t help but wonder if she might be better off with someone else–I know that she will spend the rest of her life being loved immeasurably, and provided for unfailingly.
And that’s more than enough for both of us.
Bringing up Baby, Dog 