“When a man's best friend is a dog, that dog has a problem.” - Edward Abbey
Been busy lately, getting to know my brand new best friend, a Red Heeler I adopted through a rescue service. I'd been thinking about a dog for a while now, but was reluctant because of my schedule and the fact that you never really know what you're going to get when you bring a strange dog into the house.
He's about a year and a half old and came with the name Ozzie, which he paid about as much attention to as he does gnats on his wang. Immediately I started thinking up something new. Carl, Floyd, Capo, and LeRoy were all in contention. I even briefly entertained calling him Gronk, harkening back to my trips to Crested Butte. But late one night when we were out patrolling the neighborhood I watched as he casually strolled along a few paces in front of me with a self-assured swagger; like the neighborhood was safer because he was on the job. As he moved his head left and right, those big ol' ears the size of my hand perked straight up, it hit me.
Radar.
Radar is like a MacBook. He came installed with pretty much everything you need with the ability to add extras with ease. Sit, down, leave it, wait, kennel up. He knows 'em all. Not once has he tried to get on the furniture. Radar loves to be petted and belly rubs are his favorite, but he has no desire to be right in my lap all the time. When I'm out working in the yard, he's there. Just a couple yards away, interested but not in the way. One night I was down working in my brew room and noticed he had disappeared. I thought for sure he was upstairs eating one of my guitars or sacked out on my bed, but no. He was in his kennel, looking up as if to say “What?”
Now like Bill Burr was saying about Pit Bulls, how people cross to the other side of the street when they see one coming, Radar has the opposite effect. I've had more interaction with strangers in the last month than I have in years living in this city, all thanks to him. I can think of only a few dogs that have the same happy-go-lucky, “glad to know ya” kinda attitude. He gets along with everyone, even other dogs.
When I get home, he's there with a wagging tail and heavy breath, genuinely glad to see me. Can't pet him enough. Dammit, it's nice. Now I know what you're thinking, you're thinking he's glad to see me because he's hungry and has to go pee. You're wrong. He looks up at me like I'm the most important person in the world, like “you're so awesome, dude!” and I say no you're awesome, Radar. The rescue service I went through clearly charges less money for dogs that are stupid, ugly, and flawed because Radar was a little spendy. But lemme tell you, I would've paid 4 times what I gave to take him home. I'll never be as good a friend to him as he is to me. I'm not worthy of him, but I'll break my neck tryin' to be.
The best part? He's there for me. Been having nightmares lately, the kind where I'm woken up by my own voice screamin' or cryin'. Each time, he's right there with a paw on my shoulder, his big ol' ears folded back, gently licking my face. He stays there till I fall back to sleep and when I wake up for the day, he's laying right there in the same spot...he hadn't moved the entire time.
Where you been so long, dog?
