I'd always wanted a split faced dog and MABCR had one. But Sarah insisted I look at Moss instead. As I recall, her words were something along these lines: "He's a maniac and if you don't take him, whoever does will strangle him with their bare hands." (editor's note: Ilene is paraphrasing :) )
So I took him. And he was, indeed, a handful. No impulse control, no fear, acted first and thought afterward. But there were so many redeeming features! He was bright, clever, indefatigable, optimistic, willing to try anything, really wanted to please me and really wanted to work. He was happy from the minute he opened his eyes in the morning to when he drifted off into sweet dreams.
I adored him.
Moss grew up but he never grew old. He developed self-control but never stopped being silly. He placed in some sheepdog trials but he really excelled in the obedience ring, winning multiple High in Trial awards with performances that awed spectators and garnered comments like "I think he's splendid!" and "Damn, that dog is having fun!"
Moss ran and swam miles with us, flung himself off countless docks in pursuit of his flippy, joined us on a cross-country drive, demo-ed for my training business, and loved to ride on my paddleboard. He did it all with gusto and verve. So many times I wished I had his optimism, his good cheer and yes, just a wee bit of his impulsive silliness.
My Mossaboo now sleeps outside my bedroom door. I though he'd rather be there than anywhere else. We planted an azalea bush and I expect it to be a riot of color.
