​When I was little I dreamed of having a loyal pooch to call my own.  I'm not sure why, but I've always been partial towards dogs with golden fur.  Maybe it has something to do with a puppy that wandered in as a stray, an adorable golden retriever that someone had dumped one block into the county.  Although we were instructed not to feed the pooch, my sister's and I snuck him table scraps on the sly. 
 
One afternoon, while we were playing softball in the yard, the pup trailed along.  Unfortunately, a ball ricocheted "just-so" pelting the dog in his front paw.  The pup howled from injury and pain bringing heartbreak to all who stood in witness.  Mom didn't have the money to pay for vet bills, so calling the humane society was the best that she could offer.  That was the last we had ever seen of that adorable little puppy.
 
Other strays wandered in throughout the years, a collie, a mixed German Shepherd, and a Heinz 57 sort of mutt.  One day, as fate would have it, a black puppy with gold-toned markings on his face wandered in.  This particular dog was unruly and totally unmanageable.  My brother Tom pointed out how the dog was able to survive outdoors through dangerously bitter temperatures...and thus he announced, "Archer finally has her wish, a dog that we can keep!"  Not by want nor by choice that mini version of trouble became mine.
 
Dog often nipped at my hand and scratched my legs by jumping up in a wild frenzy but it was a dog after all and since I'd always wanted one as my own, I didn't allow a bit of pain to discourage me.  If time travel were possible, you'd catch sight of little me walking down the street with that monster gathered in my arms.  Dink never took to a chain but preferred to be carried.  It was no matter, he was mine...and that was the best thing ever.  Lugging Dinky worked out well until he grew too large and heavy for my scrawny arms.  The day finally arrived when I was forced to leave him safe and sound in the backyard.
 
I've had a few dogs since and when I've been able to choose, I always pick a rescue with a tan coat.  Maybe my preference is to honor the pup that could have been but never was.  Who knows?
 
Regardless, I've always longed for a dog that wanted to play fetch with me, that would come when I called, that would be my loyal companion both to my face and behind my back.  I hoped to someday find a match who would sit by the window on the exterior scanning the perimeter and no matter what room I wandered into dog would somehow  know to follow from the outside.  I guess I had been looking for a true-blue canine soul mate.
 
I dreamt of the sort of companionship to where I could take up jogging and dog would stay within three feet of me, never once being distracted by people, cars or critters.  I longed for a great protector that had my back, always.  I imagined a bark and bite in defense of partnered with a lighthearted comic relief to lighten the mood on most occasions.
 
What I ended up with (maybe because of the tall Maple trees in the yard) was a squirrel obsessed, stubborn, hole digging, mongrel.  Sigh. 
 
When I toss a tennis ball for a game of fetch she snickers.  Her gaze remains fixed on the top branches of the tree, wanting, needing, craving for the sight of a grey squirrel.  Her attention span for me is all of ten seconds before her longing for a good chase wins out.  I've tried everything too.  In fact, I'll often sprint, grab the ball and drop it at her side energized by enthusiasm.  (hint, hint) "Come on dog...just one game of fetch for that joy will carry me months, please?"  Nope.  The dog often gives me this "you've got to be kidding me" expression as if my want for "dog activities" is somehow an unreasonable demand.
 
No matter what I do, what I say, what sort of prime cut of meat I throw onto the path, those blasted squirrels win every time!  I've tried composing the best dog tune ever...with an ear catching melody and proficient rhyme to the lyrics, but I'm met with great boredom.  I've tried chasing squirrels with her and although my neighbors seemed amused, I don't think that dog even noticed I was there.  The urge she has to bark that crazy-high-pitched alarm to disorient and then nab...is much too strong.  Tan dog or not, my relationship with her seems to only go one way, her way.  Sigh. 
 
I've stood for many years now in competition with squirrels.  Even if I found a squirrel costume, put it on and climbed up into the tree, I just know dog would not wish to be with me.  It just is.  She knows the difference and she has her preference.
 
You know what really hurts?  Watching the morning fitness buffs stroll by each day.  There's this woman in our neighborhood who often dons lavender exercise garb.  She holds a leash to her poodle and that leash always has a bend...you know, when the dog is walking in synch with their person.  There is a contentment, a happiness shared.  I'll peer out the window with great wonder, "why can't I have that...I always wanted to have that!"  Then "it" happens, the dog will pause a moment and gaze up at her with a look of total love and admiration.  I'm jealous, okay, I'll admit...  There is great pain...witnessing what other people have and knowing that I may never realize that sort of puppy love for myself.
 
Oh, I've tried dog therapy...dog seemed motivated at first to ignore the squirrels overhead.  She did rather well too, using the techniques that the dog whisperer suggested, wearing imaginary blinders, taking deep breaths and practicing mindfulness to overcome the will to chase...but in the end, the squirrels being the crafty beings that they are, wins every time.  They know just how to tempt her by scurrying along the power line, waving their fluffy tails, taunting with a mocking gibberish.  It's way too much for any recovering squirrel chaser to fight.  Bing, bang, boom she surrenders time and time again.
 
Although now, when I call, she'll come to the door after the third attempt...she'll go on walks with me in our backyard and stay by my side about half the time...she'll pretend not to see those furry ornaments but I know, out of the corner of her eye, she is in fact scanning for them.  She tries to be sensitive to my needs as a pet owner but there is a missing element to our relationship.  Loyalty.  She still seems put off when I awaken her from a nap and growls if I drive her to the vet...almost seeming as if she has figured out how to just give the minimum that prevents me from driving her to the pound.  Although it is somewhat better now than it was I can't help but feel I've been slighted somehow.  She is unhappy and her unhappiness has become mine by association.
 
Should I blame this on my first experiences of dog ownership or is this just the nature of life surrounding pets?  Sometimes there's a good fit, other times, not so much.  I keep trying to make the best of it, to continue growing, evolving, maintaining the belief that tomorrow will be better.  I continue to praise, use treats and positive reinforcement hoping that one day soon, she'll respond more favorably.  If not, I pray that someday I'll find a dog who cares less about squirrels and more about being "all in" with me. 
 
So I've been going about my life, filling my time with cats instead...but the personality of a cat, sheesh...that would take twelve pages to tackle and too much space for this blog, so let's not go there, at least not yet. 
 
For now, I'll continue caring for the golden haired squirrel chaser but I fear someday there will be a varmint, an open gate and a chase that will leave her in a land so far away that she'll forget the path back home again.  Is it wrong to say if that ever happens, I will probably sigh tremendous relief?    
 
There are some things in life that we can't change or control, it just is...squirrels and the dog who chases them...yeah, that pretty much describes my plight right now.