I’ve been mourning the loss of my 14-year-old goldendoodle, Nemo, whom we put down in April. We anticipated how bereft we would feel when that sad day came, and so three years ago, I listened to my husband, who said we needed an “overlap dog.”
This led to our second goldendoodle, Teddy. He will never replace our feelings for Nemo, but he does help with frequent, unsolicited love and graceful running like no other. I call him the “Usain Bolt of dogs.”
These last few months have reminded me of what I already knew: Dogs vary in temperament as widely as people, and if we are smart and just, we can appreciate them for who they are.
From the start, Nemo was “Demo dog,” which he was dubbed early in training classes. He could do what you wanted to a tee, he seldom snapped and he instinctively found the saddest person in the room to sidle next to and comfort. “Too bad he can’t run for president,” was a frequent observation of my neighbors.
So, what’s the problem that has me sometimes unfavorably comparing Teddy to Nemo? Let’s start with the fact that he is a “scaredy-cat” (yes, an odd descriptor for a dog) who feels a need to loudly declare himself when he sees a dog he doesn’t know. He packs a big bark, which then leaves us to explain to the nervous owner, “He has a bad user interface at the start. He is trying to say, ‘I am fierce. Please, pretty please, don’t mess with me.’”
Once he is allowed to sniff the dog, he changes modes and either engages in play or looks at us to throw the ball. Every morning he goes to the park where he sees roughly the same group of dogs, and all is good — that is, until he covets a ball from his doodle-friend Tukka, who is half Teddy’s size.
Now comes another flaw. Once Teddy sees Tukka’s ball, no matter that we have exactly the same ball — purchased after we noted his love of Tukka’s ball — he cannot change focus. Inevitably, we swap balls with Tukka’s owner. Teddy’s obsessive-compulsive behavior defies all reason as I begin to explain to the owner, who quickly smiles and says, “No need.”
My takeaway from two dogs who have deeply contributed to my life is that dogs are as imperfect and varied as we are. Teddy lacks Nemo’s confidence, though he is fast and goofy and loving. In contrast, Nemo calmly commanded attention, asserted himself only when needed and led with reserve and smarts.
Like us, Teddy is complex, imperfect and a work in progress. Most importantly, he has taught me a lesson that our perfect Nemo hasn’t. We need to embrace our imperfections. Teddy gives me good practice.
Jill Ebstein is the editor of the “At My Pace” series of books.
