Blame it on early imprinting.
Family legend has it I spent a lot of my first few years on the floor, with the family dog.
Boots was an excellent dog, a classy, whip-smart mix of black Lab and Border Collie. Unfailingly obedient and people-savvy, she helped Grandma raise my two youngest aunts. I grew up hearing stories about how Boots refused to move from next to the car when the family would pack to move, how she'd back my aunt Judy into a corner and lean on her when she was acting like a typical toddler, and the time she broke the household rules to warn my grandparents of an incoming tornado. Later on, when Boots was an old dog, I arrived on the scene. The family album has it's share of photos of me on the floor with Boots, on my hands and knees. Apparently there's a photo somewhere of me trying to eat the kibble out of her dish, too... (but I can neither confirm or deny those rumors!)
Most of my memories of Boots have long sense faded away, replaced by more recent memories of other dogs that have been a big part of my life and our family over the years. Ginger was our family dog when I was a kid- a little black "cockapoo" with a big bark and a mischievous personality. She was a stray that followed me home when I was in fourth grade, and lived with Mom until I was well grown and out of the house. Although she played with my sister and I, she was Mom's dog at heart. Ginger hid paper money in the couch, opened her own Christmas presents, and stood in line to use the slide just like all the other kids at the playground. She howled along when my sister and I sang loud, rude campfire songs and had a sixth sense about when mom was coming home. I appreciated her, but she made me want my own dog!
I saw my first borzoi sometime in the mid-eighties, when I was in Junior High and Mom dated a guy that cleaned kennels for a lady with a lot of show dogs. He brought me along, and when I first saw the lithe, ghostly shapes, I froze in my tracks. They seemed lighter than air! Backlighted from the warm glow of the indoor lights, they were first just silhouettes dancing and racing in the lazily falling snow. Then, they came closer and turned into dogs.
I was enchanted.
They weren't just dogs, I discovered. They were the epitome of Dog. I looked into their expressive eyes and felt as though I'd found long lost kin.
My first dog wasn't a borzoi, sadly enough. He was a sweet, high strung whippet who was too nervous for the show ring. I didn't have him long, but I learned a lot from him. Important lessons like patience, loyalty, and accepting someone as they were- even if that someone was deeply flawed. An unexpected move out of state right before my senior year of high school forced me to give him up, and although I made sure he was placed in an excellent home with "whippet knowledgeable" people, I swore then I'd never be in a position to give up my dog ever again. And over the last year I've had the heartbreak of reliving that experience. Due to unexpected life experiences, I had to place my beloved older bitch, Miriah, into a permanent home in Canada. I hated having to break that promise to myself, but putting her in a permanent home that was experienced in caring for senior borzois was a far better choice for her, than dragging her along on my uncertain journey of the moment. Painful lesson learned.
The events of our lives shape us and make us who we are. It’s likely that every dog I've known has contributed something to this story, even if it's just been their bit part in influencing the person I've become through their friendship, dedication, and even those hard lessons about loss and sorrow. Through them, we learn about life and all it's seasons.
One of the best lessons I ever learned from my friend Riff, my first borzoi and the dog this project is dedicated to. Through his adventures and misadventures, he showed me that sometimes it’s worth sacrificing your dignity to get your point across. Anyone who was ever met him in person is probably chuckling and nodding at this point, remembering some of his mischief. Other folks might be thinking this is kind of ridiculous. I'm writing a biography for a dog?
Why, yes… I am. With pride!
Another of the valuable things Riff taught me was to take my friends where I find them, and he’d been one of the best that I could have ever hoped for. All the remarkable people in the world don't always come on only two legs! Don’t worry- my aim here isn't to make this one of those sappy, sentimental animal lover books. It’s a biography. It’s part adventure, part drama- and a whole lot of comedy. His life was a comedy! He made me laugh daily for the almost ten years he was in my life, and still almost ten years after he's gone. The memories of some of his antics still make me chuckle, ponder, and even contemplate deeply on occasion. Riff was a very unusual dog, and this is the best way I can think of to share him with everyone that didn't get to meet him in person.
I dedicate these stories to all our canine friends- past, present and future.
To go on to the first chapter of the story, click---> HERE!
All content (c) C.T. Griffith, 2010. All rights reserved.
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