My Boy

There was recently a post on Threads about Velcro dogs. You know, the ones who need to be in your skin? Well, one of those does not live here, but he is always watching.

When we adopted Gibbs, I was sure he was going to love me. After all, the folklore and wives' tales say that boy dogs love women. Ha. Gibbs chose his human pretty early on: Josh, whose only moment of "weakness" cemented our dog's undying love and loyalty. You see, when we went to bed after Gibbs' first event-filled night home (a drunk driver crashed into our building, cops, and so much more!), Josh decided we were going to stand firm and Gibbs was going to learn to sleep in his crate, day 1. Me? I'm a softie, but I had read dogs learning they had their own space was good for them, so I could do it. After what felt like hours, but I'm sure was probably only one, Josh folds. Gives in, lays on the floor, and puts his hand inside the crate, so Gibbs could feel soothed. I will never forgive him 😂.

During obedience training, the head trainer would tell trainers unfamiliar with Gibbs that he was a good boy, but watch out: the separation anxiety was real. Separation anxiety? Separated from who? Oooooh, Josh. When we moved to Alexandria, we were searching for a new apartment. We both decided that the more open a floor plan could be, the better. This way, Gibbs could see us pretty much anywhere from wherever he was "perched".

Now, Gibbs is often content to be by himself when it's just Josh at home. He stays in our bedroom, on our bed, and gazes over his domain (the Metro station) and all of the comings and goings. When I come home, he trots out (if he's awake), gives me a thorough sniff, and then proceeds to follow approximately one inch behind my heels. The alternative method to this is I come home, he's on the couch and grumbles until I approach and greet him. I am not allowed to greet Josh before the puppy is acknowledged. We occupy the couch or the bed together, but usually, do our own thing until 8, when I am ordered to bed by a very grumpy dog. When Josh isn't home, however, Gibbs is more easily frustrated when I do chores that require movement like cleaning, emptying the dishwasher, or changing around the laundry. How is he supposed to supervise if I won't stand still?!

As it is a one-bedroom apartment, Josh and I are usually in fairly close proximity. This is, traditionally, fine. Sometimes though, there is a certain amount of closeness that is too close for Gibbs to be comfortable. Pup has woken up from a dead sleep in the next room to squeeeeeze right in here, just let me, hold on, whew! Nevermind that it's usually an internal organ, major artery, or important bundle of nerves of mine paying the price. I've explained to doctors and coworkers many times that the slightly not-circular bruise on a body part is actually a paw pad, not a doorknob.

When I was working on an idea for this slice, Josh came to sit near me on the couch. He leaned in (closer distance) and I heard the tip-tap immediately of the toes on their way to become part of my skin. Gibbs took his position, shoving my intestines out of the way, to be between me and Papa. He's a big boy, there was only about 6-8 inches of space, but no need to worry about that! If the humans are too close together, he's here to stop that.

He's a sweetheart when he wants to be, my personal sleep demon when he doesn't. He's happiest when Josh is paying any kind of attention to him, including scolding (that tail goes wild). New people are his favorite and my grandmother who actively avoids him (she's not an "animal person", whatever that means), she's his number one goal. He's patient with small children and feels at least a little bad when he knocks them over while licking them.

He doesn't need to be next to you, doesn't need the pets and praise. He does need to know where you are and when you are. He stares, without blinking, at people in the elevator, much to my chagrin. He appreciates consistency, but also doesn't really see how that has to apply to dinner time. He's my boy and I am grateful for him.