So, my dog, the Colbster

My dog should be put up for sainthood.

Colby (or Colbster or Colby A) is my seven year old black lab mix that amazes me almost as much as my children.  When my ex and I got him, he was just 12 weeks old and he was adorable (and he still is, in a roll on your back and show your junk kinda way).  His giant brown, soulful eyes, the white stripe that went down his chest and the gray ring that went around his tail were Norman Rockwell-esque.

I was going to name him Crosby (being a huge Penguins fan), but I was afraid a lot of people would name their pets (or kids) after Sydney Crosby.  Instead, I went with a sure fire name of a player that could not possibly be traded, since he was Crosby's best friend on the team, Colby Armstrong.  Armstrong was traded a year later (it's ok, now people just think I really like cheese).  Clearly his life with me was off to a fantastic start.

I had been warned that Labs took a long time to mature and get out of the puppy stage, but I had no idea how loooooooong it really lasted (longest. three. years. ever.).  He was a chewer, and he did not  have any distinguishing taste.  He was a fan of shoes, a wooden stand my grandfather had made, Luke's binkies, and oddly enough the carpet (the hole was dead in the middle of the living room, of course).  He would constantly run around, after what I have no idea.  The mistake  to get him a laser light was made (there are few days in my life I wish I could redo, that is one).  While it was hysterical watching him chase the laser light around the house, onto the couch, up the wall, etc., it was not so hysterical when he constantly begged/cried/acted like a teenager for the light.  He knew we put it on the fridge, so we moved it.  That did not work, because even tho we knew the light was not on the fridge, he did not (mind boggling, I know).

Colby was enrolled in puppy obedience school, and he was doing a nice job too.  However, about 3/4 of the way into it, Luke was born.  Clearly I missed a few classes with Colby A, and it showed as he was now THAT dog in a class.  I am sure you all know what I am talking about, he was more interested in sniffing some ass and biting some ears.  

When Luke was born I naturally had some concerns how a rambunctious puppy would do with my son, I know I say this a lot, but I am a moron.  I should have been worried how my soon-to-be-mobile son would be with my soon-to-be-calm dog.  As soon as Luke was mobile, Colby was a target.  Luke, and later Ave, would torture this dog.  They had no issue grabbing his tail, putting their fingers in his eyes, trying to grab his tongue, licking the inside of his ears (my daughter is so gross sometimes) and falling on him like he was a real life Pillow Pet.

Colby took it all in stride.  He never, and I mean never, snapped or growled.  It was like he was supposed to be with these kids.  I would look at him while one of my kids would be water boarding him, and he just looked up with those soulful brown eyes that told me he was cool with this, if he could have shrugged, he would have.

He (I refuse to call him an it) has had patience with my children, but man his patience with me is even more impressive.  First, I was a very different person when we got him.  I had a bit of a temper and I did not walk him enough, yet he plodded on in life.  I realized the other day that while my kids went thru a major transition during the divorce, so did Colby.  He lost his mom, kids, and his "brother" (a shepherd husky mix named Rico).  He never showed any behavior issues (probably because he likes the first couple of days my kids are gone).

There was a time after my divorce/separation that I did not want to be home when my kids were not there.  I would go out, sometimes overnight, and leave him alone.  I fed him and let him outside to do his sinful business (vague The Simpsons reference there), but he was in the house...alone.  This dog was a champ.  He did not have any accidents, aside from a bout with UTI (ouch), and he always greeted me with a wagging tail and cloud of hair (he's a shedder to the point he can look like Pig Pen coming at you).

Like I said, he is seven years old, so while he still has brown eyes (even more soulful now), his face has a lot of salt and pepper, his white chest stripe is drowned out by gray and the gray ring around his tail is replaced by all black, his look fits his demeanor, he is laid back, caring and patient, just like a grandfather.

His chewing on the carpet and running after the laser light are now replaced (like one of his ACLs)  with the occasional walk (when his bad wheel will allow it) and ten minute games of tossing a plush bone in the air.  He is not the same dog he was 5 years ago, but who among us can say we are.

Come to think of it, if I could be more like my dog, I would be a better person.