There has been something missing from my life for some time. Just over three and a half years in fact. There has been grief, longing but a level of acceptance that one day, some day, that hole would be filled.
For you see, although I have owned (or been owned by) cats, I am a dog person. My parents had a dog before I was born. I grew up with dogs and formed strong bonds with dogs of relatives and close friends.
My first very own ‘baby’, Dave came to us on our first wedding anniversary and stayed for nearly fifteen years. A rough coated Jack Russell Terrier, he had loads of personality and a winning way with everyone he met. He was just another member of our household.
In Dave’s last months our home became a canine aged care facility. Stairs were gated to avoid stress or falls on dodgy knees, chasing of possums was banned and potentially embarrassing continence issues handled in a caring, yet practical manner.
It took some time after Dave’s passing for us to be ready for another dog. After much debate about getting a puppy versus an adult, breeder versus shelter, our new little family member came to us from the Lost Dogs Home. He turned out to be much smaller than he looked in his online profile, tipping the scales at just over 3kg but he was so friendly and full of life that I forgot my issues with ‘handbag’ dogs.
The shelter had given him a name but it wasn’t really him. My hubby has strong opinions about dog names, preferring them to have human ones rather than ‘wet’ pet ones. He chose Dave’s name and had always been keen on Craig for another dog… but Trevor won out.
Trevor settled in like he had always been here, crying a tiny bit for the first couple of nights but quickly learning to trust that we will always reappear in the morning or after time away from the house. He made himself at home on the couch in no time and loves snuggles and pats and tummy scratches. His elastic legs can elevate him almost three times his height in anticipation of his morning chicken neck.
Trevor decided his presence was required for bedtime stories and he is now part of our evening routine. Mr 7 is almost in danger of loving Trevor to death but is quickly learning how to handle such a small dog. I found him one day lying on the floor in front of Trevor’s basket singing to him: “You’ve got a friend in me, you’ve got a friend in me…”. A priceless moment.
I’m so loving having that little doggy presence in the house again, particularly when I’m on my own. It’s hard to explain the sort of companionship a dog provides. I can feel my cortisol levels dropping when I sit and stroke him. I take him for daily walks where I would always find an excuse to forgo a walk for my own benefit. His cheery little personality makes all of us feel better when we’re tired and grumpy. He seems to know who needs him most too.
So welcome to the family, Trevor Craig Clarkson!