For some reason every year I’m surprised that Calvin has another birthday and becomes that little bit older. My puppy dog is seven! I hate that he’s creeping ever closer towards retirement. I’m fairly sure I will get another dog after Calvin, but if I had the choice, I’d keep him working forever. Not because he is the best at guiding, just today he walked me into a lamppost and decided to take me on a tour of the park instead of finding the way out, but because he is my best friend.
At the end of 2014, Calvin and I moved into our own place. Perhaps selfishly, I knew it was a massive change for me and didn’t really stop to think about the affect it would have on Calvin. Well, he didn’t lose his appetite, yet the weight was falling off him, from what I can only conclude was stress. He developed an ear infection, which was proving a devil to clear, so we were going to the vets on a weekly basis. At first I was delighted he was shedding the pounds, then I began to get worried when he didn’t stop. Nevertheless, after a month or so in our new home, he began to fatten up again and is now back to his former cuddly self.
Our new house has a nice sized garden, which Calvin has well and truly marked as his own. Cleverly, I adapted a section of my driveway into a spending pen, except at present Calvin refuses to do big busys in there. I fully appreciate the garden is a more appealing area to busy yourself, yet come the summertime I don’t want to be stepping into something unpleasant. Note to self, must persist.
Calvin is also having issues sleeping downstairs. He has an extremely comfortable new fluffy bed in the living room and a box of toys that is over-flowing. Only, every night he waits until I’m lost in the clouds and sneaks upstairs. If I send him back downstairs, this doesn’t last long before he creeps up again and goes and sleeps in the spare room instead, as if this is an acceptable alternative. Ever since I have had Calvin, he has slept downstairs. He has become an expert at opening doors, unless it is clicked shut, he somehow manages to open it. I go through phases of shutting the door totally, hoping he learns, but at the moment he is winning.
Calvin thrives on pushing the boundaries and being a rebel. A few days ago, I got out of the shower, heard a grunt as I entered my bedroom and discovered the monster curled up in the middle of my bed. He realised he was too slow to stop himself from getting caught, so slumped back down, crossed his paws and prayed that I would leave him be. Obviously, I used my sternest voice and ordered him to get off of my bed, but through the powers of telepathy, I could hear him grumble ‘ok, ok, chill out all ready, I’m moving’, as he casually jumped off the bed. Admittedly, I did laugh to myself in astonishment afterwards.
I think it is safe to say Calvin has settled into our new home and his dog bowl that states he’s ‘the boss’ is very apt. How could another dog ever live up to Calvin?!
Some say Calvin is a menace, I say he has personality!