This year Opie turned 6.
While he isn’t the first dog I have ever had, he is the first dog that has been just mine.
I’ve had him since he was 8 weeks old and I remember the whole story as if it all happened yesterday.
I was a sophomore in college and a friend of mine texted me one day and asked if I wanted a puppy. I barely read the full text before immediately replying yes. I realized then that maybe I should ask some questions but I knew I wanted a puppy more than anything. While I had friends in my classes at college, I didn’t really hang out with them outside of school. Not that they didn’t ask, I am just painfully awkward when it comes to initial social interactions especially on a new playing field. A puppy would keep company on late study nights and weekends. And when someone offers you a free puppy are you really going to say no?
It turns out that his brother’s dog had gotten knocked up by his mom’s. Opie’s mom was mutt. She has a boxer face, but longerish hair like a German Shepherd. Opie’s dad was a full-blooded pug. So Opie came out looking like a goofy pug/boxer hybrid.
I asked all the necessary questions and finally 100% said yes to taking one of the puppies. There were six in the entire litter and I knew I wanted a boy. I have never had much luck with girl animals, ranging from a stubborn goat who refused to walk and would drop to her knees if forced and a kitten that bit me on my ass while I was sleeping and tore up my prom dress. He sent me a picture and I knew almost immediately which one I wanted and I hoped it was a boy.
Most of the puppies came out brindled with black and dark drown, but two came out pug tan. I knew I wanted one of those, they were way cuter than their siblings even though they all looked alike. One was a girl who was spoken for and the other was a boy and the second largest in the bunch. I pounced on him and told my friend he was spoken for too.
When they got a little older, I made a trip to go and see the little rollie-pollie. He was chunky and wrinkly and perfect. Two weeks later, just before Christmas, I went and picked up my new baby.
He cried the whole way to my parent’s house, mostly because he had escaped my lap while I was driving and fell under the seat. That might account for why he so afraid of the car now, but anyway, we got home and I didn’t put him down for the rest of day.
What to name him stumped me. I wracked my brain trying to find something that fit my little wrinkly butt but nothing worked. That night, my parents went out to dinner with some friends and one of them suggested both Opie and Otis. I fell in love with both names but Opie was the one that stuck. I always tell me that I chose that name because of two of my favorite shows, the Andy Griffith Show and Sons of Anarchy. Two extremely opposites but both characters fit my Opie.
Opie and I have been together ever since. On the very few occasions that I have to be apart from him for longer than a day suck but I know that when I get home he will always be excited and happy to see me. I have many stories to share about my chunky butt but for now I will just leave you with this introduction. Stay Tuned!