In September of 2006, I was on one of our “adventures” with my four-year-old son, Bobby. He was a very active child (to put it mildly), so my wife and I were always looking for ways to keep him occupied. I thought that a trip to the Humane Society was just the trick. As soon as we arrived, Bobby ran off to bother the cats. I, however, was fixated on a litter of seven puppies. It was fairly rare (at least to my knowledge) to see puppies at the Humane Society, as most of the dogs were either abandoned or “not working out.”
The litter was a mix of black and brown, all with patches of white. The sign on the cage stated that they were an Australian Shepherd / Welsh Springer Spaniel mix, and had been born on July 10th (my birthday). They were adorable. As soon as we were back home, I called my wife (Helen) and asked if we could adopt one of the pups. To my surprise, she said yes, with very little begging and arm twisting. Helen, our daughter Erika, Bobby and I soon headed back to the agency to pick out our dog.
Unfortunately, these puppies were adopted very quickly, and there was only one female left. (I prefer female to male dogs for a variety of reasons, details for another time.) Anyway, the remaining female was fairly thin, and had some spots of hair loss. She was also very timid and docile, which we took for a good thing. Helen and Erika whispered in a corner and conspired to name the puppy Tootsie, as in Tootsie Roll, because she was black and white. I conjured up images of Dustin Hoffman running around in high heels, and decreed “Over my dead body! I’m not going to walk around the neighborhood shouting ‘here Tootsie!'” As Erika rode horses, her second choice was Blaze, as the dog had a white blaze on her forehead similar to that of many horses. Sold!
We took Blaze home, the vet pronounced her healthy, and her hair filled in. However, her passive behavior soon gave way to becoming a little Bobby doppelganger. My fellow puppy parents at the PetSmart dog training clinic affectionately called her “the ADD dog.” Walking her on the leash became my best source of exercise, and I’m certain that my arms lengthened with each walk.
Fourteen years and thousands of walks later, Blaze passed away on July 1st. There has never been a better dog.