Quirky Kyne

Creative Family Director | Artist | Painter | Writer | Overbearing Mother | Wacky Wife | Traveller | Dream Wrangler | Nature Lover

A few days ago, a very upbeat little chap was brought home.

Yes, we don’t have enough dogs. Even a kennel never has enough dogs. Though now we seem to have become The Kennel. Now we each have a dog, so no more jealousy; though there is a tad of envy between the dogs as we all fight over who gets to sit with the puppy.  But when it comes to taking it out for a midnight pee-pee, then the puppy firmly belongs with his true owner, my son.

There was much discussion as to what kind of dog my son should get. We all had our views and reasons, forgetting about his needs and wishes. But he is strong and came through, and of course, after we visited the pup just to check, we were all sold. Clever of him, really, to take us all along for the ride, even my mother was invited – he could have shown us any little weird creature on half a leg and we have fallen in love. But the minuscule five week old Springer Spaniel that flopped around, stumbling upon overly long ears and overly big paws was too much for us; we were smitten and cooed the entire way home, all of us longing for the three weeks to whizz by until it would be old enough to join our family.

My son chose his dog – and its race and pedigree, with care – actually with the utmost simplicity: a happy dog, male, and that would be good with rough shooting. (And whose parents and breeder we knew and lived nearby.)

For that is my son’s passion: walking off with a tent and a pack on his back, carrying not much food but a compound bow. He lives off the land for days, somewhere by the forest that follows the fjord, picking the odd pheasant for a dinner that he prepares over a small fire. When he gets hungry, he returns home. Sometimes it is just to raid the kitchen before he leaves again. 

I understand his need for a true companion.

And that is what he will get, as he is proving to be an excellent father, friend and teacher. 

Both him and the puppy are desperately happy in each other’s company.

And I am the ecstatic puppy-sitter when he is at school, though I am looking forward to him returning to full time parenting duties when the holidays begin, thankfully soon. 

Now there is an extra reason for us all to smile; not only because we think that he is the cutest critter ever, but because now there will be another tail wagging when we come down in the mornings, another always-happily-hungry snout sniffing around, and another gleeful, euphoric rollicking hound forever begging for a longer walk than the extensive, exhaustive one from only an hour ago. Not to mention the bounding, paw-pirouetting, tails a’swishing at the gate whenever we return home – even if it has just been three minutes away to the workshop.

Always happy to see one again, never angry or resentful or begrudging when one has been away.

I wish we could all learn to be the same.

Welcome to the family, little perfect puppy!

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