Finny, as she is now called, is the adorable centre of our home. As evidenced by the above pictures, she pretty much has her run of the place. One of her favourite places to be is her ‘fancy bed’ in the first photo, so named because the bed has legs and tufted upholstery. But it has to be covered in the blanket shown, with not too many wrinkles. She does have choices of bed – the middle picture shows four of her beds. I like to spread them out, one in each room. But she prefers that they cluster together and will drag them all into one room like she’s a shepherd or something. But also, she sleeps or sits anywhere she wants, and has her own seat at the dining room table. I know, we’re too much.
She enthusiastically greets each of us at the door and is always a little on edge until ALL FOUR OF US ARE HOME. The first year the kids went to sleepaway camp, she stood beside our bed at 10 pm barking at us: aren’t you forgetting something?
For most of the last ten years, Husband is definitely number one in Finny’s eyes. I can’t imagine why, except that he feeds and walks her almost all the time. Now in pandemic days, I work from home and Husband works in the office so she is a lot more conflicted. Husband takes care of her but I am the one that is always there for her. So on weekends, when we aren’t in the same room, she will patrol. Lay down with me for half an hour. Then will jump up go find Husband and hang out there until she has a pressing need to find me again.
The kids are largely irrelevant, especially Jackson. Which is curious because he is always at home too and was home the most before the pandemic. Sydney will always hang out with Finny when Husband and I golf, so she is grudgingly accorded a bit more respect than, say, the couch.
This dog is smart. Husband has a morning habit. When he sits down with his breakfast he throws her a Dentastix chewy treat. Then he puts his plate on the ground where Finny will lick if she deems enticing enough. Then Husband throws her a biscuit. These two, they have their routines. On some mornings, if Husband is still eating when Finny finished her first course, Husband will throw her the biscuit. Finny will not eat it, because, obviously, that is not the order in which things happen. Plate first, then biscuit. She will paw at Husband’s foot until he obliges with the plate and only then will she roll in and then eat her biscuit.
And last story (thank you for indulging me). Finny has become a bit of a finnicky eater. Which is tough because she already can’t eat anything with chicken in it, which is like most dog food out there. So we curate a delicious and varied menu like lamb and bison, or goat cheeks which she loves. And then one day she won’t eat what is on offer. An hour later she will start barking because she is hungry. We bring her to her dish to point out a lovely bowl of Moroccan pheasant and she will walk away. So we stuff mini treats into it as extra inducement which will work occasionally. The rest of the time? Desperate measures. (I pause here to note that we should just let her be hungry. But the thing you should know about Finny is she was born without a shame gene. So notwithstanding her delicious meal of artisanal pheasant, the additional treats added, she will have no hesitation in waking up in the middle of the night BECAUSE SHE IS HUNGRY.)
So Sydney blessed with the spiritual gift of spoon-feeding a dog, will hand feed. Finny will not accept the food from anyone else.
