My Last Dog - Naomi Weisman

Naomi Weisman is a Canadian-Australian and mother of three, who loves to ramble with her dog, cook for family and friends, and laugh whenever possible.

I've always had a dog in my life, but now that I'm reaching a stage when I crave freedom, I am contemplating life without one. 

Rocky

When I was small, we had several cats and two dogs. In my distant memory, Rocky and Missus were lively Boxer dogs who were loveable trouble-makers. Anyone who knows the breed understands me when I say that they need exercise and attention, or they'll destroy anything of value nearby. 

When I was 6 ½ years old, we moved from the countryside to the big city. We went from 10 acres of land to a backyard the size of a postage stamp. This was not enough space for our crazy dogs. As a result, we had to rehome Missus. She needed an owner who could handle her training and destructive exuberance. I don't remember how I felt about her not being a part of our family anymore. With hindsight, I am surprised that I don't remember.

Rocky, to my 7-year-old heart, was my best pal. He slept on my bed every night and stole all my blankets, but I loved his company. The only problem was he didn't get enough attention or exercise. My mom was overwhelmed with four young kids, my dad was working, and my parent's marriage was in turmoil. 

Sometimes, when Rocky was let out into our tiny backyard, he would somehow escape and be found running the streets. My dad always told us a story about our elderly British neighbor, who once called him to say that she had just seen Rocky running "lickety-split" down Yonge Street and that he'd better go and rescue him right away. Funny, but not!

That was the last straw for my parents. I came home from school one day soon after, expecting to be greeted by my beloved Rocky, only to find that he had been given away to a man with a farm. I was devastated and cried for days. 

About six months later, when I was walking to school with my friend Tracy, I saw Rocky with his new owner in the park. I walked over to the man and my dog to say hello. I gave Rocky a big hug, and he kissed my face. My 7-year-old mind remembers him being well and happy in his new life. I hope that was true. 

Margot

Who knows why some dog breeds elicit an emotional response more than others? Great Danes have always fascinated me. For as long as I can remember, they have brought a smile to my face and a longing to my heart. I don't know why. 

After a few years without a dog, I started to think about getting one. My ex-husband grew up with small, fluffy white dogs, and I had grown up with boxers and golden retrievers, so we could never agree on what kind of dog to get. Knowing that my preference would be a Great Dane, my ex told me that he would never want a dog with bigger balls than he had. So, a few years after we separated, in 2012, I decided it was time to get the dog of my dreams. 

As a single mother of three, I felt that getting a puppy would be too much, so I started looking for an adult rescue. I searched many sites online for a dog with the right personality for a house full of kids. 

A person from the rescue organization came to my home to inspect where the dog would live and to meet everyone in the household. After much deliberation, we decided on an 18-month-old female Great Dane named Margot, who was being fostered in Indiana. She had a difficult beginning to life but was very calm and sweet. Her foster mom described her as "a dog who had never met a stranger," which, of course, was perfect for us, who needed this gentle giant to be friendly. 

My daughter, who is an ardent dog-lover, came with me to London, Ontario, to pick Margot up. She was being driven across the US/Canadian border to London from Indiana by several volunteers who took turns driving ninety minutes each. After being transferred to six different cars, she finally made it to us, and she was so tired and sad.

Annie sat in the back seat to be near our new baby, but Margot wanted nothing to do with either of us. I was nervous because I really wanted this dog to love her new family. 

My worries were for naught. Margot fell in love with us almost as quickly as we fell in love with her. Annie and I brought her into the backyard to meet my sons outside. She immediately leaned on them for vigorous pats and then promptly sat on Annie. The connection was instant. 

Margot was always loving and welcoming to strangers. I used to joke that if someone were to break into the house, she would show them where all the valuables were to make it easier for them to take. Not an ounce of guard dog in her! 

In fact, it was Margot who introduced me to my partner Brian. On a freezing winter day in 2015, Margot and I entered the off-leash dog park for a quick run around with other dogs. Instead of finding other dogs, she made a beeline for a man she had never met before. Margot leaned on him and insisted on a massage, I guess because she was cold. Brian and I have been together ever since!

My darling girl lived a wonderful life with us for six and a half years. A few months before she turned eight, Margot developed histiosarcoma cancer on her face. She wasn't in pain, but it was growing. Medical interventions would have been awful for her, so I opted to let the disease run its course and give her the best ending to her short life.

On the day before her eighth birthday, we said goodbye to her in our home. She was surrounded by everyone she loved and was given as much sausage and chocolate as her heart desired. 

Odin

Two weeks after Margot died, my daughter Annie's friend called to ask if she knew anyone who would adopt her dog. His name was Odin, and he was an 18-month-old Rottweiler/Bull Mastiff cross. We had met him once before, when he was four months old when he licked Margot's face. He was a total cutie pie. Even though I was still grieving over the loss of Margot, it didn't take me long to agree to adopt this fine chappie. 

Odin has proven to be a complicated fellow. His life is filled with contradictions. He's loving with his family but reticent to interact with small children. He's submissive with the dogs he's friends with, like Annie's dog Brady and Brian's dog Pebbles, but he is aggressive with dogs when we're on walks. He loves playing with balls and sticks but will aggressively protect his toys from other dogs. 

Odin can be very charming. He is a cuddler extraordinaire, almost never barks, and waits very patiently for any kind of reward. And boy is Odin smart! He understands an incredible number of commands, and he is very intuitive. 

Since adopting him in January 2019, I have fallen in and out of love with him at least twenty times. I have tried everything to help him. I've spent more money than I care to admit trying to train him into the dog I feel he could be.

Odin has torn the ligaments in my shoulder, given me leash rope burns on my hands, and placed me in humiliating situations with other dog owners. He was even fired from two different dog walkers/trainers for being difficult! To say that I am tired of his shenanigans would be an understatement. 

Odin will be seven years old this July. He is a huge dog who will likely only live until he is ten or eleven. I don't want to wish his life away, but I'm looking to a future without a dog.

It will be weird not to have the routine of my two or three times-per-day rambles to look forward to, and it will be a huge adjustment for my family not to have a big dopey dog to love. It will also be strange not to care for and nurture on such a continual basis, but I am ready to try it out. 

I am a dog person, and doggone it, I love my dogs, but I am ready for a life where I can come and go as I please, with my shoulder ligaments intact and my pride restored. This midlife and beyond woman is ready to dog-sit her grand puppies and go on extended vacations filled with happy rambles and no worries about who will care for her dog while she's away!

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