Collum as a puppy, deliberately sitting on the cat and laughing

First of all, you have to realize that I don’t even like dogs. I am a cat person. I didn’t want the dog poop in the back yard, feeling the pressure of having to walk the dog or the guilt if I didn’t. I didn’t want the barking at night or the hair all over the house. You don’t have any of those problems with cats.

For years I told my husband he would have to choose between a dog or me. But for Christmas, eight years ago, the decision of whether or not to get a dog was taken out of my, and my husband’s hands. Without my knowledge and certainly without my consent, our adult children got together and bought a puppy for my husband.

When they brought this tiny ball of fur with ears longer than his body into the living room and gave him to my husband, it was love at first sight. What could I do? I was stuck with a dog. He was a mix: half Australian Cattle Dog and half Rotweiler, with the coloring of the Rotweiler but the size of the Australian Cattle Dog.

We didn’t know what to call him, so that is what we named him: C0llum.

All the reasons I didn’t want a dog still applied. He did poop all over the yard. We didn’t have the heart or discipline to keep him outside so he became an inside/outside dog, which meant that he tracked mud and dirt, rocks and garbage into the house. Our house was covered in dog hair.

Because my husband was gone twelve hours a day, working and commuting, it became my job to walk the dog. So I did feel guilty if I didn’t walk him. And I had to endure the sad looks and hanging head when I left him at home.

Our dog, who was gentle with everyone, absolutely hated the mailman and turned into this vicious sounding attack dog at the very sight of him. The mailman refused to deliver our mail any more, so we had to pick it up at the post office. We even had to pay for it.

But an interesting thing happened. It is very hard to maintain indifference to something who turns into a paraxym of joy at the very sight of you! He was always waiting at the door when I came home, wagging his tail in delight, grinning his doggy grin and pushing against me until I would pet him and scratch his ears.

He was always as physically close to me as he could get. He slept in front of my bedroom door. Whenever and whereever I sat down, he would lie down at my feet – usually on my feet. To the point that I was always either stepping on him or tripping over him. Callum would put his head on my knee and look up at me with big soulful eyes at mealtime, hoping I would slip him a treat.

We have a suite upstairs which we rent to our daughter Shauna, her husband and their three children: age 3 3/4, 2 and 3 months. Shauna used to call C0llum up to their suite three times a day after meal time. He was better than the vacuum for cleaning up food spills.

Collum loved to play with the grand children. He patiently endured having them crawl of over him, pull his ears and tail. When they got too rough, he moved away.

He protected our home and we felt safe with him there. No one ever approached our yard without us knowing about it.

And then within a day, he was gone. For someone who never wanted a dog in the first place, he has left an amazingly big hole in our family and in my heart.