Part IV? V? For those of you seeking photographs of the gorgous Finnegan, please see the links in the fourth full paragraph.
Apparently, I am way too lazy to figure out what part of the story I am on. After surviving a cross country trip with PSYCHOS (the dysfunctional cats), Finnegan arrived safe and sound in our new home. Within one month of arriving, I began the pursuit of an overpriced degree in another city in another state. Sadly, because I could not bring Finnegan with me, he stayed at our permanent home with his daddy and cats. It was hard to not have this big goofball around to play with and cuddle. For as long as I can remember, I've lived in the company of four legged creatures. And to have nine or ten months without the critters basically sucked.
So I decided the next year to find an apartment where Finny could be one of my roommates. As my second year roommate and I looked for apartments, we learned that most landlords had a list of dogs, such as pit bulls, rottweilers, and similar "aggressive" breeds that were not allowed. Obviously, Finny did not fit in that category; however, I wondered if they understood just how big he was. I would emphasize how big he was, really really big. Not retriever big or Rottweiler big. BIG. HUGE. I worried that we would arrive and the landlord would exclaim:
"You said big but I had no idea that you meant llama sized needs a horse trailer to transport eats ten pounds of food a day big. No way is this quote-unquote dog
Fortunately, that did not happen and Finny is the BEST educated Irish Wolfhound ever. He can rattle off the elements of a contract better than any canine I know. Well, not really but he also went to school. Because my overpriced education kept me incredibly busy, I learned from a friend about a doggy daycare facility where I could drop him off and he would be entertained all day long by dogs of all sizes. AND, he would be kept so busy running, playing, barking, and doing whatever a posse of dogs do so that for the next day, he would have little energy and would sleep to recover for his next day of school. My friend recommended K-9 Kamp
, which was located nearby and was run by a very good looking guy, according to my friends. I wouldn't know, I'm married.
Once I learned about this option, I called and made an appointment for an interview with the owner. Essentially, I had to fill out paperwork about Finnegan's disposition. Then, he had to interact with another dog to see if he showed any form of aggression. Aggression and Finnegan do not go in the same sentence. He's a mama's boy. If I dog attacked him, I would probably have to do the fighting. Even if the dog was chihuahua. Of course, Finny passed with flying colors and I signed him up for two days a week. Let me just say, that was the best money I spent my entire three years in spendy grad school. He loved it
. Loved it. Loved it. And loved it
. Here's the money shot. God he's cute. Yikes poor little dog.
Besides going to school and learning more than I did, he was (and is) the BEST travel companion ever. I drive a 1997 Subaru Outback and we purchased that vehicle specifically so Finny could have enough room. Of course because that's what animal people do. Every other weekend, Finny and I would make a five hundred mile round trip drive home to visit my husband and the cats. And to do fifty loads laundry because my husband, who incidentally has a Ph.D. in chemistry, suddenly had no idea how to do laundry. In order to give Finnegan ample space to sleep, because that was what he did most of the drive, I put the seats down all the way. My laundry basket, bag of clothes to wear, and giant bag full of books and my laptop were crammed in the very far back of the car so that Finny could have enough space to stretch out. And why is Finny a good passenger? Because riding in a car put him sound asleep. Occasionally, he would wake up, put his head between the front seats to make sure we were not lost, and then go back to sleep. He never puked, whined, or barked. Once or twice he might have let one rip but that can be forgiven and windows were put in cars for a reason. And let me tell you, people never ever stare when you pull a llama sized dog out of a car at a rest area. No never.
So Finnegan and I both got ourselves an education (his probably more worthwhile than mine); however, I can say that he does not have a student loan, I mean a diploma, to show for it. So there.
Labels: The Story of Finnegan