The Way My Dog, Talisker, Brings Me Joy
Let's talk about something more uplifting for today.
This post isn’t directly related to chronic illness, but my furry companion is one of my greatest joys in life. He helps me to cope on the bad days, with nothing more than a few furry cuddles.
Talisker is a shetland sheepdog, so you either love or hate his personality. He has energy enough for 10 dogs, and has been labelled ‘mad’, ‘crazy’, and ‘your dog has ADHD’. Whether those allegations are true or not, I have found that there is no grey area when it comes to him.
Most people in Singapore tend to gravitate towards cute, cuddly dogs that are on the ‘lazier’ end of the spectrum. But I personally prefer the boisterous ones. Talisker doesn’t run. He moves with an elegant canter at top speed, a well coordinated bundle of legs. He doesn’t lean against you on tippy toes (unless he’s begging for food, again…). Instead, he hops, skips, leaps and propels himself against gravity on all fours. I love his energy, because I live vicariously through him. With my fairly recent broken knees, I like to think that he’s now running for two. (Here’s us jumping together, before I broke the knees.)
One incident that will forever be etched in my happy memory bank is of his third birthday. My mum told him to ‘come’ to her, so that she could lift him up to check out his pupcakes. He interpreted that as ‘jump! onto the dining table’. That’s the highest he’s ever leapt, and it was quite a feat that left us in stitches. Fortunately, we were there to help him down (and before he buried his face full of cake).
The vet has called him a ‘bunny’. I’m presuming an Energiser Max bunny. My mum said that “he has ADHD”. Well, I love my friends with ADHD, too. And my sister has said to me, “I don’t need a dog that’s intelligent, just obedient”. (We’re on good terms, so that was a good laugh.) Whilst I do agree that’s important for your dog to have some manners, I personally like that he’s a little cheeky, and never stops pushing the boundaries.
In his mind, “no sleeping on grandma’s bed” means “let’s lounge freely on it when they’re out”. “No entering the kitchen” means “just a bum or paw in”. He is also a firm believer in hope. “No food from the dining table” means “I’ll try my lucky every day anyway. Don’t try, don’t know, right?”. He is also fearless, and is willing to risk disapproval as long as he ultimately obtains his goal (which is usually food-related).
This hope also manifests as an insistence to play fetch despite having sprained his leg. This dogged spirit inspires me to chase for that elusive hope as well, because “one day” always comes, even if it may look a little different from the original version. To him, the question of whether he should invite me to play or not doesn’t even exist. There is only a repeated bid; rejection simply means “maybe tomorrow it’ll be a ‘yes’”.
I actually miss those puppy days when he was even wilder and more mischievous. His crimes are still visible after four years - the chewed up leg of a piano, another gnawed wooden chair, and other objects with permanent (teeth)marks. One thing I don’t miss is the ‘snow’. If you have had a pup, then I think you know what I’m talking about - the ripped tissue paper scattered all over the living room in the mornings. Thankfully his chewing phase is less intense now.
His ears are always perked, even whilst asleep, as he scans for audio information from the environment. He races to the door in a heartbeat should he suspect that there’s someone there. “Unknowns” get the growls and barks, though he’s really quite friendly (and even a little too eager to make new friends). If my sister is outside, he whines, eager for her to enter. It’s amazing how he knows who’s behind a closed door. Probably a mix of scents and the sound of movements, such as the way you shuffle your feet.
His internal clock is another animal instinct that never ceases to amaze me. Unlike us poorly-attuned humans, he knows when his meal, walk and ball time are without needing to check the time.
I kiss his little head every day and smell his fur, filled with that raw scent of ‘dog’. He continues to snooze as I whisper into his ear repeatedly, “I love you so much”. These moments ironically make me a little sad, because I know that he will die one day, and that his exuberant energy will fade over time. But that’s something I was already prepared for the day I got him - that I would grieve his absence deeply after he is gone. Because I knew without a doubt that a dog’s love is unconditional and eternal, and our bond could only grow over time.
Loving him comes so easily. There are no fights, arguments, or complicated feelings. The activities we do are simply a consequence of that presence of love. Bliss is the scent of dog fur at the end of a long, painful day. I may never understand what goes on behind those coal black eyes, but they are endless wells of love and loyalty, and that is enough for me.
He is the embodiment of everything I wish I could be - full of life. Yet, unlike with other human beings, I am not jealous of his boundless energy. He is the medium through which I try to make contact with life. I will continue to live vicariously through him, and try to be more dog. That can never be a bad thing, can it?
Reads I Found Interesting This Week:
For an anaesthesiologist, intuition stands between life and death (Aeon Essays)
“Yet, it is when professionals lose their intuition that its mystical value shines through. For, in tough cases, when facts are lacking and the path forward is unclear, intuition arrives like a revelation. Intuition is an article of faith we assent to when reason has reached its limits.”What Makes Heritage Livestock So Important? (Atlas Obscura)
“You’ve got to look at these animals as a reservoir for the future. The animals we work with are genetically distinct. If we lose those breeds, we lose those genes, and that’s it. There’s no way to get it back. And we don’t even know a fraction of what we’re potentially losing.”
<3 Our Rescued Furry Family membes are very important in our household too. <3