I’ve talked about my dog a few times, so here is a picture of Gerti. Gerti lurks around the front gate waiting for someone to take her out for a walk when she isn’t chasing squirrels or looking for sunny patches for a dognap.
She is at least part chow. She came from the wild and cannabis covered hills of Mendocino county in Northern CA. A friend who has land there brought her to us because as an 8 week old she looked just like our old beloved mastiff mix, Corky. That look lasted about 5 minutes or just until the fluffy fur started growing and changing color.
Gerti’s parents, Daisy and Free (well, it’s Mendecino County, what can I say, half the 25 year old humans who grew up there are named Free or Rainbow), lived with their owners in a house with no plumbing and roamed the hills procreating exuberantly until Daisy was eaten by a mountain lion. It’s sad but true. I try not to talk about it in front of Gerti.
The Gerts is a very affectionate dog. She sort of wraps her body around your legs and snuggles her head against you. I like to think of it as a doggy hug instead of just an insidious attempt to cover me with as much fur as possible.
I’ve always had a dog. Gertigirl is not the smartest, but she may be the sweetest and after her terrible puppy days (she failed puppy training class) she has become very well-behaved. I want one fur free zone, so she is not allowed in the living room. The living room/dining /kitchen is all one big room in our house so there is a just a line she is not allowed to cross and she doesn’t, amazingly enough – at least when we are home.