My dogs: Spotlight Kirby

Kirby is an interesting character to say the least. On one hand, he is incredibly cute, and arguably the best looking of my three dogs. He is a beautiful reddish brown with a perfect white blaze, chest, and legs/feet. His charming smile and happily wagging nub belay the fact that he is also possibly insane. Kirby is a walking paradox; both sweet and cuddly, capable of spending hours snuggling on the couch, completely immobile and malleable to any position, as well as tense, growling, and hostile if the mood strikes him. While at the park he delights in running full tilt with all the other dogs, most of whom are much larger than himself, including his border collie brother Xander. On the other hand, when at home, he growls and snaps if Xander happens to invade his personal space bubble. He is capable of complete and utter brilliance on the agility course, or complete and utter train wrecking disaster. While engaged in any activity, he throws himself into the pursuit 110%, but at home will be sore and cranky and refuse to walk if he doesn't feel like it. He likes alcohol, and will shamelessly drink anything left on the coffee table, as well as lick any plates which are left in his reach when you aren't looking. However, he is the only dog in the house who doesn't senselessly bark at everything which walks by, and will wait politely at the door when he needs to go out. It is easy to be frustrated, even irate with him at times; and just as easy to melt at his smiling face and funny little body as it bounces up to greet you. When he is at his worst, I remind myself where he came from, which is a balm to the anger and frustration.

Many years ago, I volunteered some time to corgi rescue. The mission of this organization is to help corgis which, for whatever reason,  have found themselves in need of a new forever home. For instance, I once picked up an older male from the local animal control, filthy, smelly, and freshly neutered without even the benefit of a bath, cleaned him up, and transported him to another volunteer in Orlando. I named him Sport, because he endured the ordeal with grace and even a measure of gratitude. Happily, Sport was soon adopted and living out the rest of his life in comfort. Around this time, I already had several dogs and was not looking for another. I received a call from a rescue agent down south who had been contacted by a woman in St. Augustine about her "vicious" four month old corgi puppy. We both rolled our eyes at the thought of such a young pup being capable of genuine aggression, and being the closest to her home, I volunteered to go evaluate this puppy.

When I arrived at her home, which was big and beautiful and had a massive back yard, I knocked on the door. The woman greeted me accompanied by a tiny ball of orange fluff who was smiling broadly and bouncing straight up and down in the doorway. Immediately I knew that I would be taking him home with me. She led me through the living room past her two and four year old children who wanted absolutely nothing to do with poor Jack-Jack. He was named for the popular Disney movie, "The Incredibles", and was purchased as a Christmas present for the children from "Donna's Doggie Delights." She showed me his Canadian Kennel Club registration which clarified in my mind what type of organization "Donna" was running. I asked her more about the puppy's behavior and what training she had been doing with him. Essentially, he was a highly intelligent, active, mouthy puppy who had received absolutely no training from the woman, her husband, or the poor kids who were too young and tired of being bounced on by an exuberant pup. "Jack-Jack" was a puppy mill special who used his mouth to get whatever he wanted, and no one had bothered to try teaching him otherwise. I asked if she was planning to have him neutered, and whether he was up to date on his shots. "Oh, we can't afford that," she said, as I looked skeptically around their massive home. After only fifteen or twenty minutes, I asked her if she would just like me to take him that day. She immediately began gathering up his few belongings as she expressed her gratitude. If I wasn't willing to take him, they would have been forced to take him to the pound. I tried to express the importance of making a careful decision when selecting a breed of dog, as well as a breeder, but I fear my advice was falling on deaf ears. I can only hope that their next dog was as sedate as a basset hound, and would come to them trained, neutered, and with a lifetime supply of vaccines. As I walked him through the living room and out the front door, the children continued coloring and didn't bat an eyelash that I was taking their dog away.

After that, Kirby, renamed for the Nintendo character who was also a fun little ball of activity, came home with me. I had no plan for this, and his homecoming was met with some eye-rolling. However, he stayed with me, for better or worse. We spent months working on his grabby mouth, and that was mostly resolved. My life changed radically in those first few months together, and continued to be rocky for the next year or two. Kirby endured a lot of upheavals. We lived here and there, and even had a few months of adventure in North Carolina. His life, when composed of my older corgi Kaylee, he and myself, was happy and carefree. He was never perfect, and tended to mark in the house when other dogs were present, in spite of being neutered at 6 months. However, he slept on my pillow at night and loved everyone. Happy and playful, he tried relentlessly to wrestle with Kaylee, who decided she was too old for such shenanigans. Therefore, at the age of three, and when I was finally settled into my own apartment, I decided to get him a friend. Having loved every other dog he'd ever met, I thought bringing in a puppy would be accepted. At first, things went well, and I even have video proof that they played with one another. However, when it became clear that Xander was receiving my attention, and even worse, he was going to be bigger than Kirby, something changed. My attempts at finding him a playmate backfired terribly, as I think I broke his poor little heart. Thus emerged Kirby's split personality.

Now that Xander is two and everyone receives basically equal attention, things are generally calm. However, there are times when just a wayward look will send them both into a fit of growling, and it is best to stay out of the middle. Don't worry though, ten minutes later, Kirby will be smiling again, the angry alter ego once more set aside for the time being. Who knows if things would have been different had I not brought home another dog, or if Kirby's mental problems would have been manifested in other ways. All I can do is try to be patient, and remind myself how cute he is.