My Family Grows
For going on about six months now, I’ve been considering getting a dog. I grew up with dogs. My first dog was a black thing named Shadow, but we had to get rid of him when I was a very young boy because he bit me. Sometime around the age of 5, my sister Liz came home with a puppy. She was just a little mutt, likely some sort of beagle/Sheppard mix, and we named her Rhiannon. She was a great little dog and lived until I was about 16 or 17, when she died of cancer.
When I was 18 or so, my family decided it was time for another dog. My Mom, Dad and my sister went off to a kennel while I stayed home playing DJ or something stupid like that. About two hours later my Mom came running into the house, somewhat frantic, yelling, “Come out here, I need your help! We have two puppies in the car!” They were two beautiful golden retriever/lab mixes that we ultimately named Gypsy (I named her) and Tiffany (my sister named her). They lived very long lives for Golden’s and were excellent dogs.
So, I’m a dog guy. Never owned a cat. I live in an apartment and, yeah, cats are easy in apartments, but I didn’t want a cat. I wanted a dog.
I began by going to some local kennels and found a number of puppies I really liked, but it became clear quickly that with mutt’s there was just no way of knowing how large these dogs would end up being. Living in an apartment, I didn’t want a dog bigger than 25 pounds. After some time I decided a pure bred was going to be the way to go. This way I could be better assured the dog would have a good temperament for apartments and wouldn’t grow beyond a specific size, in this case less than 25 pounds.
In looking at small dog breeds I quickly realized most of them are either A> retarded looking, B> yippy little shitfucks or C> well, if I owned certain toy breeds people would think I’m gay. Now, as the “Seinfeld” saying goes, there’s nothing wrong with that, but I’m not gay and being a single man in LA on the prowl, let’s not make it any harder on me than it already is, OK?
So, I settled on five different breeds – the Beagle, the Pug, the Boston Terrier, French Bulldog or Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.
I’ve met many a fine Pug, Terrier or Bulldog, but it came down to my not wanting to look at my dog’s ass all that much. I dated a girl who had a couple of Pugs and while adorable and loving, there were a couple of times I watched her have to wipe her own dog’s ass and, well, I wanted to avoid that if at all possible.
The Beagle is a dog I’ve always wanted and came very close to getting. The problems were size and temperament. First off, I couldn’t find a breeder who had a litter from a smaller sized mother (or bitch, as they say!). I didn’t want a 35-40 pound Beagle. Secondly, they’re very smart and loving dogs, but they’re also hard to train. Living in an apartment I thought this might be a bad idea, so I passed on the Beagle.
It was down to the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. They have an excellent temperament for apartments, won’t get bigger than 18 pounds and, well, when you see the guy I got you’ll see he’s a lady killer.
My good friend Jason actually has three of this breed, so I wrote him on IM one day to explain my situation. He gave me the name and number of his breeder, and off I went to make a call.
That was on Saturday, October the 12th. The following day I had my little pup. I hadn’t exactly planned on getting the dog that Sunday, but the opportunity to get this dog, who was a best of breed, with a crazy heritage, was too much to pass up.
Meet Yeager – named after the test pilot, not the alcohol. I’m not some asshole frat boy who names his dog after his last alcoholic drink. Here he is on my first night with him. He’s just about 10 weeks here.
There’s a great page about the CKSC up on Wikipedia. Yeager is of the Blenheim variety, meaning he’s a two-color dog with a rich chestnut/orange color on a white background. He’s got the coveted Blenheim spot in the middle of his head, too. He’s just quite perfect.
I was also told by the breeder that Yeager is a half-brother of one of Al Pacino’s dogs. Only in Los Angeles.
I forgot just how tough it is to bring up a puppy. I’ve done it before, but frankly my Mom did a lot of the hard work. Sure, I did help a lot with the training of Gypsy and Tiffany, but Mom did most of the cleaning up of poop and pee. Learning that all over again, knowing when to limit Yeager’s play time in the house, understanding when he needs to go and when he doesn’t, that all takes time. That’s the hard part, but the fun part is the playing and training and quality time I get to spend with the little guy. I mean, come on, check out this photo, how can you not love this little bastard?
Yeager was born on July 21st and he’s now four months old. I’ve had him for about six weeks and we’re doing very well. He’s got sit, down and stay (well, he’ll stay for about two minutes) and we’re working on shake. The house breaking is going better than it was two weeks ago thanks to the help of a really excellent dog trainer I’ve hired to come out once a week for six weeks. I plan on really training this dog because I want to take him places. He’s just finished up his shots, so now it’s time to socialize the little guy with other dogs. Overall, it’s been great – he is a tremendous amount of work, but absolutely worth it.
I’ll post more pictures in the coming weeks. You won’t be able to stop me.
