Daffy

The picture above is not from my dog, but the same breed.

You know me. It’s not always fun and games. Sometimes I have to make room for more. For something that I need to get off my chest. This is one of those times.

I just realised that it is more than 10 years that I had to let go of one of my best friends. The title says it. It was not a duck, nor a cartoon figure. It was my dog, my german shepherd, my left side man, Daffy.

I got him as a pup, the circumstances are weird as well, but I got to pick him as a pup. My parents wanted me to pick a male pup, so I had to choose between two. his brother came first, not really interested. Me snapping the figure 8 to see how interested he was. Not following at all. Then came the little Daffy. He came right up to me. Curious as fuck. I snapped the figure 8 and he followed it perfectly. My next thing was to pick him up. The small little pup. He didn’t struggle. He let me. I asked him: “Do you want to go home with me?” and he licked my face. As if it was meant to be. I put him back down, my decision made. He would be my dog, my companion.

My parents bought him, putting him in my name. His name had to start with the letter D, and the breeder told me it was best to name him with a sharp sound, like an E at the end, so I didn’t hesitate and called him Daffy. Daffy Dog. That would be mine. Apparantly he was also the breeder’s wife’s favourite, because he had one white toe on his right back foot.

I went to visit him a couple of times, when he was still at the breeder. One time, the little tyke was sitting in the feeding bowl. All his brothers and sisters needed food, but my dog, the rebel, decided that he wanted one big bowl for himself, so he had planted himself into the bowl and that was his. He alone was allowed to eat from that bowl.

The ride home with him was uneventfull, but everybody loved him instantly. He loved his place under the tv table or how do you call it. That was his spot, would always be his spot. always would he lie under it. He had claimed it very early on, so he could hide and it being his safe space.

I first went to a local german shepherd club, to teach him the basics, so he could learn from others of his breed and those that knew how to manage it, but they hit their dogs and made me do stupid things, so after a few times I switched over to a club in Antwerp, much farther away, but all his siblings went there as well, so it became a bit of a puppy party, him being with his siblings.

He was a smart dog. I could give him commando’s without using my voice, only using gestures. I explained certain exercises to him once, and he would do them flawlessly and even when another dog was open to sex and being pregnant, he would not budge, he would not leave his place. He needed my permission to do so. He was a very loyal and smart dog.

One time, when I had given him a commando to lie down, he moved forward and I wanted to reprimand him (by using my in-mouth cursing he knew), but my trainer reprimanded me instead, I hadn’t given my command properly. I had told him to lie down, not lie down and stay in that spot. The bastard hadn’t gotten up, he just snuck forward.

One time, I left a package of cookies on the table and told him not to touch the packet. When I got home, the cookies were gone. Didn’t reprimand him, as I remembered that I hadn’t told him not to eat the cookies, just not to touch the package. The package was untouched… the cookies were just gone. He was smart like that. I loved him for it. I loved his rebelious nature that was so lovely. Also… until the last days he was with me, he would always, always think he was a puppy, running up to me and jumping on my lap in the sofa.

He got me through hard times at school. Hard times at home, with my parents. With my dad. He was everything for me, and my mom knew it. I didn’t go on walks with him, because of crippling depression, but my mom wanted to handicap me even further as she knew I was crippling and he was my support, not her. So she begged and manipulated me to let me take him to the shelter, even baiting me with a promise of stopping with smoking if I would allow it. She never quit smoking, not even tried quitting, but I lost my best friend the next day. Never to see him again.

This is to you, Daffy, wherever you may be. Whichever family you made happy after me. Hope you had a good life. Many treats and many pets. The bestest boi!

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