Best Friends Part I

This topic has been on my mind since I started realizing my best friend wasn’t exactly young anymore. He’s not old mind you; he’s just closer to the top of the hill than the bottom of it anymore.

Let me first state – I married my first best friend, this guy is my “other” best friend. Before I introduce you though – I have a request, no, make it a demand – don’t judge how he came to be. You might not like it, might think it was wrong, or bad practice or whatever. Either way, it’s done, it’s over and my best friend’s already here.

To introduce you, I’ll go back to the beginning…I was 25 when we met and in desperate need of a stable friend. Party friends I had aplenty, but steady friends, they were scarce. My mom knew this, so when she was approached by a friend of a friend to stud our bichon frise (directly from the Czech Republic), she thought of me. Dazzle, the love of our lives, was bred to a love of another family’s lives and we were to receive the pick of the males, which my mother gave to me.

My best friend was born on Easter, 2006 and has two living siblings, one girl, and one boy (his mother was spayed immediately after). Each was spoken for before they were born. Because it was a family affair, my mother and I were able to come over quite often to meet and help socialize the puppies. It was my first time meeting newborn puppies and first time choosing one.

Mom and I chose together, and took weeks to get to know each of these precious babies. It was a hard decision; each one was a healthy, hearty part of Dazzle. Dazzle, whom my father had chosen to be a part of our family, before my father died. Ultimately we chose my best friend because he was the more outgoing of the two boys, wanted to play more, and loved to roll around in the grass with his family.

Looking back and remembering how I felt – I have to laugh – during the choosing process I almost felt guilty – wondering how on earth I’d ever love a new puppy nearly as much as I loved Dazzle. Eight years later, sitting here writing at my desk, I’m surrounded by three dogs, my best friend, plus two – each of whom I love dearly. But your first, your heart, just never changes.

Some people joke about “fur-babies” and often I’ll call the three “my boys”, but my first – he’s special – he’s my best friend.

Back to the story, as I got ahead of myself for a minute – before we brought him home, I named him. The name wasn’t something I could think about before he was born, it was still so unreal to me – and how could I name someone I’d never met? I didn’t want a typical name, so I thought something Czech might do – as I lived in the Czech Republic during my teenage years, and Dazzle listened to Czech sometimes better than English, something I expected my new friend would probably do. Nothing I came up with was working, so I solicited the help of a good Czech friend. Upon her suggestion, we chose the name Dárek – or Gift; we could also call him Dáreček, or Little Gift. Mostly he goes by Dare – but the meaning stands, he’s my gift. As the years have passed I think we’ve added on to the original meaning – once he was a gift from my mom, but he’s also given me the gift of his friendship.

Because I worked full time, lived in an apartment alone, my mom took Dare home with her for the first six months. She was able to house train him, leash train him and socialize him really well. He had so many experiences (boating, swimming in the bay, long walks on the beach, running on the farm, spending lots of time with other dogs, including Dazzle, and so much more) that he would not have been able to have, I am grateful she was able to do this for Dare.

Although, looking back, I think it made his transition to my life a little bit harder. With my mom on the farm, Dare was used to having people and/or other dogs around pretty much 24/7, but then he came to stay with me. Dare slept on the bed with me, sat on the couch with me, and because it was winter I was able to take him pretty much everywhere I went – except work. Even a well socialized 8 month old puppy shouldn’t stay in a crate for nine hours at a time, even if half of that time should have been sleeping time (I worked 4-12:30). So I made plans.

My uncle’s family didn’t live too far away, my aunt loves dogs, so they agreed to take him in if I dropped him off and picked him up. So every morning I’d run into their house, set up Dare’s crate and drop him off. Eventually, even my very patient family had enough – apparently when I dropped him off and left – he’d bark, and not stop, until he had attention. At any hour a dog barking non-stop is annoying enough – but when it’s in your own home starting around 3:45 in the morning? Needless to say my morning trips to my uncle’s house ended.

Before they ended though, I was still getting to know my little guy. We were going for long walks, to dog parks where he loved to meet every dog in the park, and play and just flat run with the big dogs. Dare still doesn’t really bark quite right (it’s a little high pitched), but he’s definitely not a yippy dog – doesn’t bark at just anything or anyone, which I was extremely grateful for at the parks. At home, we’d play chase or hide and seek, when he caught or found me, he’d pounce with glee and we’d start all over again.

And he cuddled – oh did he cuddle, my boyfriend (now husband) lived with three of his friends, and Dare and I were over there a lot. Dare would cuddle with me for a few minutes, but as soon as I got distracted and stopped “actively” cuddling, he’d move on to the next person, and then the next and the next. If your hand was slightly out, he’d nudge his head or belly under it so you’d start scratching. As long as your fingers were actively moving, he’d move himself around to where he wanted to be pet.

I think my favorite thing that only ever lasts a few seconds, is when I’m lying on the bed and he comes up to me, and puts his head on my neck so his face is right next to mine. I scratch behind his ears and then he’s up and playing again. Or – I’m holding Dare in my lap and I tap my chest and he throws himself at my chest to snuggle that much more closely with me.

Dare’s favorite place in the car is the far back, up by the window. Dare loved going on errands with us, even just up to the grocery store. As soon as we parked, he’d hop up in the back to watch and wait for us. It took months, if not years for him to not bark non-stop in the car (or my apartment) while we were out of sight. It’s so strange, looking back, to remember that Dare, because he hasn’t done that in years, he’s learned to trust that we come back – every time.

Now, back to the sequential line of events – after Dare’s actions ended his stays with my uncle’s family, my boyfriend’s mom (now my mother-in-law, who was in love with Dare) offered to come by during her lunch hour and take Dare out on a nice walk.

My boyfriend and I got married – I wanted Dare in the wedding party, but it wasn’t to be. Getting married outdoors in August, even in the Northwest, isn’t conducive to including a dog in a wedding. Right before the wedding, Dare and I moved into the house my husband and I would be sharing. Dare and I had so many adventures in that house. We’d play hide and seek – chase in the yard – and still something was missing. I teased; It was time my - my companion pet needed a companion.

With that decision, I was to learn there was a LOT more to learn about dogs and my best friend than I could have ever dreamed of.