A Dog-Centered Life

Just over a year ago my wife Susan and I decided to get a puppy. Not just any puppy, but an Australian Shepherd puppy. Aussies, as they are often called, are herding dogs, known for being incredibly smart, loyal, and energetic. I have raised four of them over a twenty-five year period and love the breed.

Friends said, “Do you really want a puppy at your age? What if you get sick? Having a puppy is like having a baby. It will consume all your time and energy!” Susan and I didn’t listen. We were finally over our grief at losing Kamalani, our previous Aussie, and were missing dog energy in our lives. For almost a year we searched for a rescue Aussie in Hawaii, but couldn’t find one. Shipping one from the mainland, with all the quarantine restrictions, became way too complicated. And it just had to be an Aussie. So we found a puppy at Top Dog Hawaii on the Big Island and had him flown over to Maui. We were thrilled to find one with brown eyes, a bushy tail, and blue merle coloring.

We decided to name him Nalu. Nalu in Hawaiian means ocean wave, and it also means the peace that is beneath the waves. We soon discovered that this puppy was anything but peaceful. He’s more like a thoroughbred racehorse – super hyper and filled with boundless energy. But I was the one who wanted an Aussie. To my surprise, he also turned out to be far more affectionate than any puppy I have known. Nalu loves people, loves kids, loves other dogs, loves the world, except he’s not so sure about cats.

Susan and I were thrown into the joy of puppy-raising. There were times when Nalu was irresistible, all fluffy and sweet smelling and delightfully playful. And there were times when it was hard work – the potty training, the walks, the chewing, the barking, the nipping, the scratching, the sleepless nights, the poop picking up and the occasional throw up. Our lives became completely focused on this little being. Some of our friends said, “Are you sure you want to do this? Perhaps you should find a new home for him so that you can have your freedom back?” But we didn’t listen, though at times I was so frustrated with him that I was ready to give him away to the first person who wanted him.

Nalu is now just over a year old. When he came to us, he weighed 20 pounds. Over a few months that quickly increased to 40 pounds, and then, to my concern, he kept growing and growing! He’s now 70 pounds of sleek, muscled grace, large for an Australian Shepherd. Some of his puppy traits are gone (thank God), but he still jumps up on people (we call it a greeting disorder); he still pulls on his leash (like a pit bull in a weight pulling competition); he still has terrible separation anxiety (he can’t be left alone). Our training has gone to pot lately, but we’re determined to and get him back on track with the help of our trainer Betty. Her challenge is to train us to train him. Do we wish we had listened to our friends and placed him in a new home? Do we regret having him? No, he’s given us far more than he’s taken in love, affection, loyalty, and joy.

A day with Nalu starts with my taking him out anywhere between 4:00 and 6:00 am for his morning business. At first this was a chore, but now I enjoy being outdoors with him in the cool morning air. Then I try to get some more sleep, until Susan and I get up a few hours later. That usually happens when Nalu goes over to Susan’s side of the bed, puts his paws on her and licks her face. No one can sleep through that.

We eat a late breakfast outdoors on our lanai, with Nalu close by on a long leash. He’s always on alert, watching everything going on around him. If someone walks by with a dog, he pulls on the lead and stands on his hind feet, wanting to get a closer look. For the most part he lies by our feet, content just to be, waiting patiently to lick our plates.

Finally comes the moment that Nalu lives for. We’re lucky enough to live a few hundred yards from a pristine Maui beach. Every day we take him to the beach for his run. And does he run. We bring a Chuckit stick, so we can throw the ball far down the beach. As the ball soars into the air, he races after it. When it bounces on the hard sand, he leaps up and catches it on the fly with stunning agility.

He then does a victory turn and trots happily back to us with the ball in his mouth. If the ball veers off into the ocean, he flings himself through the waves to get it. At other times it lands with a thud in the soft sand, and a spray of sand goes up as he lunges for it. I never tire of watching his strong and graceful body flying down the beach, totally focused on the ball.

We never get far before someone comes up to us asking, “What kind of dog is he? He’s so beautiful! What’s his name?” Depending on the situation, this interchange can be everything from a brief hello to a half-hour conversation about dogs and life on Maui. Most of the beachgoers are tourists, and since Nalu is usually the only dog on the beach, they love to interact with him. Many are missing their own dogs at home. Some will pick up his ball and throw it, others will stop to give him a pet, some cheer him on from their beach chairs as he catches a ball in midair.

Nalu takes all this attention in his stride. He likes to go up to small children and lick them on the face. We worry the parents will be upset, but they always reassure us, “Our little boy loves dogs. We have two at home!” When he sees younger kids on their boogie boards, he’ll race into the ocean to be with them. If an adult shows interest in him, he’ll bring his ball and drop it at their feet. Nalu provides entertainment for everyone, and not just humans. If he sees another dog, he’ll tear off down the beach, wanting to play with them. After some initial sniffing, they’ll chase each other around in circles at warp speed, roll in the sand, or charge into the ocean together after a ball. I often wonder what it would be like if we humans greeted each other in the same way.

After Nalu’s beach run, we shampoo him and dry him off. He enjoys being smothered in his warm, sun-dried towels like a little baby. Once inside, he collapses with exhaustion. As the saying goes, “A tired dog is a happy dog.” By now it’s early afternoon, and I get to have my favorite time of day – nap time – I need to catch up on my sleep. Nalu hangs out with Susan while she’s talking to one of her patients on the phone (she’s a psychoanalyst) or he goes with her on errands.

Sometimes we take him to a dog park in the evening, where there are often twenty dogs and their owners. The dogs race around and socialize in their own unique way, sniffing each other’s butts, play fighting, or chasing balls. Their owners do their own socializing while sitting on beach chairs watching the sunset or standing around talking dog talk. Nalu sticks close by us as all the dogs come up to check him out. We feel like protective parents bringing their 3-year old child to the park for the first time.

Susan and I like to eat early, watch some news, and then see a movie or our favorite TV series. Nalu never leaves our side, and follows us with his eyes if we go to the kitchen or the bathroom. Aussies are like that. Once in a while he’ll come over for a pet. When it’s finally time for us to go to bed, I’ll take him out for his final walk, enjoying the night air and the starlit sky. He follows us upstairs and goes to his spot outdoors on the lanai, where he spends the night. As I drift off to sleep, I’m grateful for having our little nuclear family. Susan is happy. Nalu is happy. I’m happy.

Some of you may have wondered what happened to me over the past year. This helps to explain it.