I told my ex no, a thousand times when she said she was getting a puppy. I already knew. I would become extremely attached, and this new friend would be my life. I fully understood at this age that a dog only has its owner. That's it.
Its life entirely depends on its owner. People have friends, family and can come and go as they please, but not a dog.
Stud was treated poorly at the breeder. I didn't like the breeder or her shitty little son, but my ex had already put the money down. I saw the son drop a puppy waist-high on the hardwood floor. I never wanted to kick someone in the head so bad. Stud was perfect across the board. He was beautiful, his body was shaped perfectly, his coat was highly functional, he was astute, and his demeanor was astounding. I will give the breeder credit. They knew a lot about huskies and wolfs. There were four crates full of puppies. Out of 20-plus puppies, he was the only one not trying to get out. He was in the back of the crate, almost as if he had given up all hope. He was so damaged at that point that he probably knew humans were subpar at best. I reached into the back, picked him up from the crate, and put him down softly on the floor. The little puppy ran behind a box fan to hide, and when my ex got him out, he had dust all over his head. Stud was scared of box fans for the rest of his life. He hated them, which showed me his memory was intact at that young age. He would not get close to me for another six months to a year. Even at six months, I would call him, and he would ignore me.
I would treat him the best I possibly could. When we got him, I immediately connected. I only wanted to do something if it involved being with Stud. I never wanted to leave him. At this point, it became just him, my ex, myself, and our families. I remember my family went on a cruise. I didn't want to go in the first place, not because I didn't love them, its because I didn't want to leave. I went only to get off the boat to catch a plane ride home two days in. Let's say my family wasn't too happy about that. I knew my time was limited with him, and I wanted to spend every second with him. I loved him.
It was when Stud was about three or four that we really bonded. Those were all great years leading up to it. My ex and I would take road trips all over, bringing Stud wherever we went. I loved every second of it, and so did he. I only left him home if I had to go on a work trip. Stud did not have a favorite location. What he loved the most was our pack. He certainly loved me at this point, but the connection only grew. I have many memories with him, but the near-death ones shaped me. Some were caused by him, and some were caused by me.
There was a specific moment that altered our relationship. We were walking in a fair-sized park, 5-10 miles. It was a cold winter day in Michigan. The lightly dusted snow on the ground was shimmering from the sun. While I was letting my mind wander, he took off chasing after something. The park was fenced in, and it wasn't hunting season. Although this time, I had a gut feeling something was wrong. I started sprinting to find him, and when I stopped, I tried to calm my heavy breathing and listen. I heard a faint whimpering in the far distance. I kept running and stopping to listen, getting closer to him every time. I ran my heart out to come down to the bottom of a big hill where a lake was. He was about 150 feet out, his front paws on the ice, and his body was in a hole. I started to panic.
People die every year falling threw the ice. I realized if I panicked anymore, we would both die. There wasn't an option. I was in a big park where no one was within miles. I took two deep breaths and prayed to God as I started to strip my winter clothes off. With every step I took, I went through the ice. I tried to lay on my stomach, but I just kept falling threw. The water was freezing, but I couldn't even feel it. I was breaking the ice step by step until it got deeper, then leaning on it. I finally got to him and broke into the hole he was in. He jumped on me, and I moved him to the broken ice, where he started to swim back. I followed him and then immediately put on my clothes. I looked at him, and I could see he understood everything, almost like he thanked me with his eyes. I quickly said, "Be careful." Then I started running to stay warm. After that day, he looked at me differently. I think he finally realized I loved him. He finally trusted me. From that day forward he knew what "be careful" meant. He did not want to go on the ice again, even with me.
