I'll never know your real birthday - no human does. The people who housed you simply said they noticed pups wandering in the yard one day, apparently missing your mother's pregnancy entirely.
My guess is you were around 11-12 weeks when you came to the farm just after 9/11/01. Flea-ridden, worm-filled, and terrified. I remember that first night, when I had to treat you for some of those ills and you scrambled away from me to hide under half a vari-kennel I had set up in the box stall. Lifting it up, you were curled into a tight ball, beyond frightened.
I remember sitting on my haunches for a few moments thinking I might be about to get bit but you had to be treated. But you didn't bite. You never have.
And there began, as they say, a beautiful friendship.
You were unsure of people for a while, but we worked on it. And then we worked on it some more. And then, somewhere along the way, you turned the corner to be the waggy, happy dog you are today. You are still your own dog. You always have been and you always will be. You are my Wyld Chyld - a creature of the woods. But you come back to me, every time and every time, that makes me smile.
You have taught me and surprised me along the way. I remember you in the training room in Gardiner as I worked a client dog. That dog came up at me when I unhooked the tether and I could hear you hitting the gate - wanting to come to my aid. From that time on, you hung out curled up under the big desk. You held your spot unless you thought a dog was or was going to be a handful. And then you would rise and step forward, looking at me.
If I wanted some help, I'd speak to you and you would come in calmly and deal - with a sniff and a look and a freeze - you handled things in a doggy way no human can. And then you would go back to the desk. Satisfied.
If I had things in hand, I would say so - thanking you - and you would head back to your bed.
Amazing.
It never really looks like you're paying attention but you always are. You simply quietly appear by my side.
You are a wonder and a gift. I know - for sure - there will never be another dog like you. I am grateful to share these years and hope we have many more together.
Happy Birthday, PJ.
