A little backstory. After my precious Cody (Border Collie) died at the old age of nearly 15, Lonnie and I swore off big dogs. We had our two Mini-Schnauzers Daisy and Mitchell, and two little dogs was just perfect for us. Or so we thought.
Except it seemed everywhere I went, I'd meet a Boxer. We went camping and a beautiful, friendly Boxer from the campsite behind us brought me his frisbee and then showered me with Boxer kisses. I was enchanted. I took one of my dogs to the vet, and there in the waiting room was another Boxer. I was seeing them everywhere. I wanted one, but still was not convinced.
So I did what I always do. Research. I purchased several books about Boxers and everything I read about them made me think they were my kind of dog. Goofy, loving, kindhearted. But big. Did I mention we said no more big dogs?
One day I was reading about Boxers on the internet (I tend to obsess when I'm interested in something) and came across these pictures at at Boxer breeder in Oklahoma with puppies for sale. This male pup was just about 8 weeks old and ready to go to his new home. I just melted.
I knew Lonnie though, and I knew he'd say no. After all, we had two dogs, little dogs. We didn't need a big dog, did we? My heart said we did.
So, as wives sometimes do to get their way, I lied. I told him I'd paid a $200 non-refundable deposit. He was furious, but he didn't want to lose that money, so he snarled "Fine." I then quietly paid the deposit via paypal and we made arrangements with the breeder to go pick up our new puppy. (Yes, I told Lonnie the truth eventually.)
Funny thing. We drove up to Oklahoma - the breeder lived in Pryor which is about 10 hours away, but met us in McAlister, which is only 5. As we pulled up to the agreed meeting spot, I got the rest of the money out of my purse and Lonnie got out to go talk to the guy. The first thing I hear from Lonnie is "Oooooooh." I think he fell in love with Macadoo on the spot.
Here he is on the way home.
We got him home and he wasn't any bigger than my Mini Schnauzers. At first.
Even after reading all those books, nothing prepared me for the utter craziness of a Boxer puppy. He was a handful, to put it mildly. Luckily, I worked with him and trained him to heel and sit and down and wait. The most difficult thing for him to learn was his recall. I spent weeks working with him on that. But finally, he would come when I called him. He was so unruly that Lonnie swore we'd never have another Boxer (hah!)
Here he is at age one. Such a beautiful boy.
He learned to swim - and loves it. He was my high-diving Boxer. (He doesn't do that anymore since he's older.)
He's even suffered the indignity of allowing me to dress him up for Halloween
In the 8 years since, he has been a pure joy. He's everything the books say Boxers are, except he's a bit reserved with strangers (unless they have a ball!)
He's gotten gray in the muzzle, and moves a bit more slowly, but he's still goofy and sweet. We love him. We Adore him. He will forever have a special place in our hearts.
Happy 8th Birthday, my sweet Macadoo.