Those who follow my writing might remember my dog is my Office Manager. Guess what? That was years ago, but I have news about him. My husband and I talked in depth about moving for various reasons. We decided it was time for a change before we might need to move. We visited several smaller homes that would be excellent for us. But about the dog? That dog is now sixteen years old, a Manchester, a small dog, about 13 pounds. What about the dog? We thought he’d be gone by this time, but I’m here to tell you, he still has his title of Office Manager.
Looking back, I had to run after him when I first got him. I had notes on the front and back door announcing, he would escape if they dallied when leaving. I could tell he laughed all the way home when he escaped when he was about three or four years old.
I remember arriving at home one day to find he had ripped into a box of candy. It was chocolate- covered cherries and no, it did not agree with him. I am particularly glad that is the only time he had an accident in our home.
He was a year old when we got him. My husband said I could get a dog “if he or she was a young dog, under five, under 15 pounds, and friendly.” I told my husband to look for one. He showed me a picture of six dogs, and I picked the one who lived about 60 miles away. When I met Fargo, he was a bit shy but came around the back of me and put his paws on my back. It was love at first sight. He came home with us, but returned after the holidays as one of our youngest relatives tried to choke poor Fargo. I was elated that the foster mom took him back during that Christmas.
The fun began once we picked him up after the holidays. We didn’t think he had a voice as he was quiet and shy. That changed.
Fargo was named for going far to pick him up and it fit him. He loves to travel. He’s gone many, many miles with us sleeping soundly in the back seat. He “Goes Far” (aka Far-Go) with us.
We never thought he’d make it to age 15 when we started planning our move to Houston. However, we have moved to a smaller home in an apartment building on the third floor. He never had “an accident,” in our former home or this new apartment. But he has become overly upset when no person is with him. He barks. We got him a collar to show him that he needed to quit barking when we were not at home. It didn’t work. No, it wasn’t a shock collar. It was noise. He stopped barking and switched to howling when we leave, so we only leave for quick meals. Not good, but he continues being our best friend.
I’m trying to teach him to “shhhhhh.” He refuses to understand that one of us will return. If someone is with him, he behaves, but howls when alone.
He’s the best dog in the world, I think, but I’m hoping all my neighbors are deaf or have the TV loud enough to cover this unfortunate situation. Meanwhile, let’s hope the new meds and long walks for him will help him understand we love him and would never give him away.