My Dog - My Friend - My Chips!

He entered the world, and they took his tail. He then spent his life protecting the wound.

He was tense, wound tight like a spring, worried, anxious. He shouted loud at anyone who came too close, not quite so loud if he loved them, but still.

The physical wound healed for him, but not the mental one.

The mental damage stayed.

Early trauma is still trauma, and it doesn’t get any less when the traumatised one can’t fight or defend themselves. He had landed in the world an innocent, a precious whole, a life as vulnerable as life could be, and they cut off his tail Nobody has been able to ask a dog what it feels like to have their tail cut off. We couldn’t ask him in words how it felt, and he couldn’t tell us. And like all crimes against the voiceless, humans made an ‘educated’ guess and did it anyway.

When we met, he was still such a baby. A curved spine tucked in the hind and a swollen face. He was coughing, spluttering, barking, infectious and messy. His legs were thick, and his paws huge.

His face back then was chocolatey brown.

In his younger years, he would race when his lead came off.

His little body would shoot like it had been released from a cannon. Straight ahead, then about turn and straight back. The first time he was let off the lead, we thought he was never coming back, stopping or slowing down.

He threatened to break the sound barrier that day as he shot along at the speed of light. Then we got used to it. He always came back.

Over the years, he created memories for everyone around him.

That time, he chased sheep on a snowy hillside. That time, he bit the postman’s shorts. The time he escaped and threatened the policeman’s wife.

The day a visitor returned with a companion and pointed to him, saying, ‘That one bites’.

Then, there was the day we found him sitting on the little boy’s lap. The child who was scared of dogs and the dog who was scared of kids.

Together, seemingly random, an intuitive connection. A hearty sight.

He liked to be around a group of dogs but was awkward. Sometimes growling, sometimes humping. But still, he gravitated towards a group of dogs as often as he could.

He loved groups of people too, but only when they were his group.

He had years, beaches, holidays, runs and games. He was always ready to race, to jump into the sea, to swim in the lakes and threaten passing strangers, just in case.

He barked a million times a week.

He barked at the wind; even if the wind simply threatened to blow, he barked just in case.

His bark was big, huge, and everywhere. Yet while he’d been scared of sounds for most of his life, he couldn’t hear himself, even before he went deaf.

Everyone else could hear him though, long after he stopped. Ears would ring!

The years went by, and he became an old man.

The chocolate face went, and he was covered in white. He was deaf, and he was stiff. He snored like he never had before. His spine was taut, and his body was tense. He slept most of the days away, and sometimes, I would see him standing staring at the wall or the floor.

Then he got some sisters. Two little sisters who woke up his inner child.

Two little life breathers.

These photos were taken 2 days before he took his last breath.

He was happy to the end, he died peacefully with no suffering and he will always, always be loved.

My Chips.

Chips was reactive and anxious all his life, they did after all take his tail.

His struggles prompted me to start writing and advocating for worried dogs.

This week I have added all my ebooks together in a single affordable stack, that can be easily read on any e-reader or device. You can see them by clicking the button below.

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