Enter stage right – the amazing Flying Fiddich!

I am not so sure that the ‘dog’ posts are well received so I’ll add one more and move on. I can always add more later but when Anonymous stops commenting, that usually means he/she is bored with the topic. Plus, I confess, that I went on a bit too long for a blog. Sorry.

Meg did well her first year. So did I. Sal was ecstatic. Even our kids took to Meg knowing full well that she was a kid-replacement. It is a good statement about your kids when they can love and accept the ‘new’ dog that Sal inadvertently called Emily at least half the time. ‘Course, she evened that out when Em came to visit by calling her Meg virtually all of the time.

Ben went through the same thing with Fiddich (Fid).

And so we come to the dog who thinks he is God.

We went to see the breeder one day a year later just to ‘check in’. It seemed only fair to show her that we had turned out to be worthy owners after all and, to be honest, Sally was just a bit proud of how happy and healthy Meg was. It was time to show off a bit.

When we arrived, we went through much the same ritual of ‘talking dog’ and oohing and aaahing over the latest batch of puppies. Then the dogs were loosed and all the females ran around fetching. Bogart stayed in. Then the breeder let out Fiddich (named after the scotch, wouldn’t you know?).

This guy was about 13 to 15 months old and easily as big as Meg. It was hard to tell because his feet hardly touched the ground! I swear this dog held the same kind of ‘air-time’ as a Gazelle. He just leapt and bounded and jumped and flew from one place to the next. A veritable rust-coloured ball of energy that rarely and barely touched the ground.

Honest, I have had kites that spent less time in the air.

In a moment of weakness I said, “Geez, he needs some space, that boy. If you ever want to let him go on vacation sometime, we’ll take him for a week or so. You know, like a parole?”

Sal looked at me. The breeder looked at me. They stared like women do.


“Are you saying you want another dog!?”

“No. No! NO!! You women! Everything has a double meaning for you. No, NO. NO! I just said that we’d give this poor bastard a chance to be free, that’s all. A chance to fly, a chance to feel alive, a chance to explode on this planet like he obviously wants to do. Then, of course, We’ll lock him away like an old winter coat just like you’d expect. No. No. NO! No more dogs!”

And so it came to pass that Fiddich joined the family.

What can I say? He flew and leapt and jumped and landed here. I had very little to do with it.

3 thoughts on “Enter stage right – the amazing Flying Fiddich!

  1. OK Dave please write at least one more blog about the dogs. Maybe a swimming photo if you have one. Can Fid make any sound? Maybe a dogs in boat photo? Who babysits them or can they stay alone for awhile? Stuff like that. Thanks. Joy


  2. Think the dog stories are great but I'd hate to think what would have happened if Lassie had the laser treatment and poor Timmy was in the well.Quick Lassie here is a pen and paper! Where is Timmy? Lassie your handwriting is so hard to read.


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