Meet the Mutts: Jaime
You’ve met the Girls. Now, let us commence, with the boy portion of events. Speaking of those girls, I don’t recommend them. At least not in threes. Don’t get me wrong, I love Abbey, Winnabelle, and Hannah Banana fiercly. It’s one of those situations where, had I a mulligan to exercise, I would not get three girls. Girls are well, they’re bitches. Plain and simple. They posture more. They guard. They are upwardly mobile. They are thinkers. All has not always been flowers and peace amongst our trifecta of canine ladies.
By the time we bought our first house, we’d had a rotating 4th foster dog on and off for about a year. Mostly of the Dalmatian persuasion. Dalmatians are one of those dog breeds (like Pugs by the way) that love other Dalmatians. Hannah needed a brother official, and we needed a boy in the mix to break up the girl party. Need being a completely subjective word in this case.
A dog of many names. AKA J.J., Jay, Jaimer, Jaimer-Pie, Pie, Pie-Pie, Pie-Face, Jim, Jim-Jam, Jimminy, Jimmy, Jimmy-Jam, Maj, Major Pain. He answers very reliably to all these, but is a particular fan of Jaimer-Pie.
Jaime is like winning the Dalmatian Lottery. He and his brother were dropped off at a rural shelter at 10 weeks old. The remains of a litter that didn’t sell. The rescue we were fostering for at the time scooped them up as the highly adoptable boys they were. The catch is, they didn’t get adopted. Chubby, squishy, spotted, and particularly cute boys, no one was the right fit. That tends to be the challenge with Dalmatian puppies. Lots of interest, for all the wrong reasons.
We weren’t Jaime’s foster parents, as we were in the midst of our own foster challenge, but he did stay with us for a couple over night visits. We met at dog parks, and Hannah and he hit it off. Remarkably well.
So 4 months later, when we were no longer renters and Jaime was still without permanent home, home we brought him.
Jay is the anti-Dalmatian. He has not ever been what you could call “high energy”. In fact, Jaime’s past times include couch potato extraordinaire, chief snuggler, sunbather, and pretty much anything that can be qualified under “lazy”. He is very perplexed by things like “fetch”, really not seeming to grasp the point of all that back and forth. The few times I have made him accompany me on runs, he acts like I am torturing him, and upon our return, insists on not moving the entire rest of the day. Sometimes long walks are asking too much.
Despite his lack of motivation, Jaime is everyone’s friend. He may not want to race, but he’s always game for a little wrestling followed by a nap. He also has a keen sense of humor, and is very fond of delivering a good wet nosed goose to whatever robed or toweled individual emerges from the bathroom, post shower.
He has been known to cash in his ‘good dog’ chips from time to time, in the interest of making off with a choice item from a counter or desk top. As the tallest dog in the house, he is at a distinct advantage. If I had to choose another fault, its that he’s a wuss. Jaime is never going to protect you from anything ever. Unless you need a room cleared via noxious gas. In which case, he’s your guy.
It’s pretty hard not to forgive him all these things, and then some. He is the dog ever at your side (unless you are moving too fast), always ready with a nudge, a snuggle, deep meaningful sigh, and questioning eyes, asking “Wouldn’t you like a nap?”.