Ode to a good dog

It was a long drive down a country road, tucked deep in the wooded hills of Southern Illinois. 

All we had was a piece of paper with scribbled directions on it. I saw the ad in the local newspaper. Border collies: $175. I called in search of a puppy, and we decided to come out to visit. 

It was a small little farm with a couple of horses and a few full grown dogs running around. One of the dogs was missing the little white puff on the end; turns out it got stepped on by one of the horses and lost it. 

In the chain link kennel were the pups. I don’t remember how many, maybe 6 or 7. They all had beautiful little colored ribbons around their necks. They were so small, barely able to get around, all wiggly and adorable. I picked up a few before I found the one with the little blue ribbon, and he fell asleep in my arms while we talked about the farm, the dogs, the puppies. 

Knowing about the breed, I thought maybe this was a good sign. This one was clearly calm and happy. I think this is the one. I know  this is the one. 

We had to say goodbye for a few weeks. They were too young to come home. But I had made my choice. Little blue ribbon. 

I had to get ready for the big day to bring him home. I got a little blue collar. A leash. A couple of toys. A crate. A blanket. 

What would his name be? It took a little while to think about it, but I wanted it to be unique. My favorite author growing up was Aldous Huxley, so I thought Huxley was a good one. Hux for short. I knew he’d be smart, too. It was the perfect name. 

I never had a dog before, so I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I knew that I’d figure it out. 

In a couple of weeks when he was ready to come home, I loaded up everything in the Camaro and went back out to the farm. My friend was there to hold him on the long drive back; it was about an hour, just a little too long to do it solo. 

“Don’t ever hit this dog,” I remember the farmer saying. 

Not that I had plans to do that, and I’m not sure if he thought I would, I don’t think. Simply a warning that they learn quickly, and they will never forget. 

That always stuck with me, and it was certainly a lesson I’ve learned a thousand times over. 

Those first few days were so awkward. This little thing, which weighed less than 5 pounds, seemed so out of place. He just stared at me, wiggled around a bit, and then slept a lot. 

We went out to potty as often as possible to start training. I followed his every move. He wasn’t really into the toys I bought him, but he loved to explore the outside. He was intrigued by the cat, who wasn’t really into him, but that didn’t stop him from trying to play with it. 

Shortly after his big arrival at home, Hux developed some weird spots on his leg that turned out to be mange. It was the first (of many to come, of course) emergency trips to the vet. I remember being so scared because the ivermectin that was needed for treatment is risky for collies; they don’t always react well to it. But after the medicine and antibiotics kicked in, Hux was good as new. 

Within a few weeks, his boisterous personality really started to shine through. We’d go exploring several times a day. I taught him to be off leash early on: The easiest way to get his attention to come back to me was to start throwing leaves around while calling his name. Up until the very end, he still loved to play in the leaves; even the noise of crunching steps through the fall leaves would get his attention immediately. 

Hux had an incredibly strong herding drive that became obvious the first time he laid eyes on a tennis ball. His eyes locked on and did not let go. He could keep tabs on every single thing that existed within range, whether that was a tree, or a soccer ball, or a human. He worked out exactly what his circle would be around each obstacle in order to keep them in their place. 

As a young pup, we’d go to the park several times a day to explore and train. He learned all the basics almost immediately. He loved soccer. He wasn’t very good at fetch, but he loved to run around all the trees and then find the ball in the grass when it finally stopped moving. 

One of his quirks was that he absolutely loved herding anything that moved, and when he became interested in something, nothing else in the world existed, and I mean nothing. He’d spot it from a mile away and took off like a jet. 

He’d join a kids soccer game. He once ran on field with the SIU baseball team. He chased a small herd of antelope around the park. Skateboards? Goodness, those drove him especially wild. 

I thought for sure that he’d eventually be able to be trained through it. But, no. Cue Julie running and screaming behind that damn dog every single time. 

HUXLEY!!!!

His unique, larger-than-life personality, energetic demeanor and intense focus made him quite the dog to introduce to people. Not a lot of people understood it. He was a little weird. Not your typical dog. 

Once you were around him for a little while, it started to make a bit more sense. You’d get used to those quirks, and they’d make you smile. After even a little bit longer, you’d learn to expect them. 

Barking at the tin foil or the noise of the trash bags every time you brought it out. Bringing you a tennis ball while you were in the shower. Waking you up every morning by sitting his butt right on your chest, ready for the day’s adventure. 

One day I taught him how to ring a bell on the back door to signal that he wanted go outside. It was only a couple of hours before I had to take that thing down; he literally sat and rang it every second he was inside. 

Huxley was my constant companion. We went everywhere together, and he was like Velcro by my side all day and night. We went hiking, exploring and walking nearly every single day, especially when he was younger. He loved to play in the water. He ate the snow like it was a buffet of treats. He didn’t give a shit if it was raining outside. We’d get muddy as fuck out on the trails together. I’d just lace up my boots, and out we’d go only to climb back in the car both soaking wet and ready for lunch.

After about a year and a half, I decided to get him a friend. Emma came into our lives in the middle of the winter when Hux was 2. 

At first they didn’t get along, and I was worried I made the biggest mistake of my life. But after a few weeks, they became the best of buddies. Emma clung to Hux like glue; she wouldn’t let him out of her sight. Hux trained her well. She learned how to fetch without me even teaching her. Her recall was (and still is) amazing. Funny enough, Emma actually listened to me – I wish she would’ve taught that to Hux, but it is what it is. 

Our big adventure to Wyoming came shortly after getting Emma. We all piled up in the car and moved to Cheyenne on October 1, 2011. 

I didn’t know anyone at all there, but I had my dogs, and that was really all I needed. There was plenty of snow to play in and lots of big open fields for them to run in. We continued to explore and go on a nice long walk every day, sometimes twice a day. 

Of course we eventually made tons of friends while we were there. I bought a house with a big yard for them to run around in; they spent days and days out there, happy and peaceful and carefree. 

Our move to Austin wasn’t quite expected. A breakup and a loss of my living space forced us to relocate, but we were welcomed with open arms to this new home. A friend who offered a room wasn’t quite sure how the dog situation was going to go, but just like Hux herded his way into the hearts of people all over for years, he did the same here. 

I knew that Texas was going to be his final resting place. By the time we got to Austin, Hux had 12.5 years of fun and was starting to slow down. He was diagnosed with ehrlichiosis, a tick-borne disease that he must’ve picked up while in Southern Illinois even though he was on constant preventative medicine. We didn’t catch it in time, and it became chronic, slowly destroying him from the inside that led to constant trembling and progressive organ failure. 

It was absolutely devastating to see him decline over the years, both due to the disease and just general old age. 

He slowly got a little more gray. A little slower. A little more tired. 

Hux has been with me my entire adult life thus far. I got him just 2 months before I graduated college. I practiced interviewing with him as I prepared for my first professional job, and then we found a quiet little house in the country with a huge yard to live in once I got it. 

We spent time running all around southern Illinois, playing in friends’ gardens and making so many friends. We drank beer around the campfire and stayed up all night to welcome in the morning sun. We took midnight walks after the end of the long days of work. We had grumpy, hungover walks even though the world was spinning. 

We moved to Wyoming. We explored the mountains. We took road trips across the country. We pulled so many cactus and goat heads from his paws. We threw a lot of tennis balls. We got blown away by the wind too many times to count. We snuggled up when the world was so, so cold outside and inside. 

We drifted to Austin. We panted in the heat and took solace in the air conditioning. We got bit by ants. We barked at horses. And we enjoyed the last few months and moments of peace in the sunny Texas Hill Country and San Marcos River. 

And through it all, we also found a better way to live. The days started to get a little brighter, our heads a little bit clearer. Huxley kept me healthy and active when I could barely do that on my own. Until I could finally figure it out. Finally. 

I’ll always believe that the universe gives you exactly what you need when you need it. You won’t know at the time, but it always becomes more clear as time passes. I know that Hux was everything I needed him to be, and I’ll always be thankful for that. 

As you get older, you start to let go of all the distractions and make room for what matters. My heart has grown more patient and kind, and I haven’t always been that way. Hux was a hard dog to raise, but I know that he taught me a lot of lessons when it came down to it. He was just as obstinate, headstrong and wild as I was. There’s something to be said about getting a taste of your own medicine. I got 14 full years of it, ha! And that’s exactly what we both needed, I guess. 

Sweet little Emma bean and I will keep on keepin’ on until we can no longer. And just like Hux, our old bones will be laid to rest someday, just like everything that has come before us and will come after us. 

We grow. We bloom. We wilt. 

But for just a very short time, we are all here together, doing this thing, and it’s pretty magical. 

So, to my sweet old man Huxley: The world won’t be the same without you, but I’m grateful to have shared so much of my life with you by my side. 

I couldn’t have done all this without you, that I am sure of. 

Rest easy, Hux. Rest easy. 

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try
To fix you