I write about our (my no one believes he exists husband) three dogs from time to time, so that’s my three things Thursday
They are all Boxer boys and all rescues, each with their own sad story. Only one of the original three is still with us.
Gizmo the eldest of the original three turned 15 on Christmas. That is a long time for a boxer to be alive. His back legs don’t hold his weight anymore and he is not too keen on the wheels we had from when Diesel (rip) needed them recovering from paralysis. He wasn’t too keen on the back leg leash either, until he realized this was his only method of getting around. Now he barks to let us know he needs something. This could be any number of things, he got a leg stuck in the couch and can’t roll to the other side he has to go out (usually accompanied by a greenhouse gas emission), he is bored, he is hungry, Jax is touching him, Gus is standing by him, or who knows. When you are that old I’m sure it could be anything.
Gus, the poor middle dog, he is 8 and embracing every second of being a middle aged boxer boy, he doesn’t want to play rough with the youngest, and wants to be taught by Gizmo on how to be the old and favorite dog. He is the one I usually walk, he likes a nice long walk, he stays focused on the task, rarely getting bored or misbehaving, limiting his sniffing to reasonable amounts of time. Not much of a cuddler however he mostly enjoys getting his neck scratched and will sit for hours and let you do this.
Jax, the baby, he is 5 and showing no signs of slowing down. He enjoys body checking Gus to get him to play which is usually met with a disgruntled Gus leaving the room. When he body checks Dave or I he is met with “Taking out my knees is not a good idea.” Jax gets bored with walks, as they progress he spends more time smelling, he’d prefer a trip to the beach to run around like the wild child he is. Of course, a good wrestle on a lazy weekend morning is never out of the question.
Beth, sharing a little snippet into the dogs