Fifteen years ago today, somewhere in the world, a wee border collie puppy was born.
He spent his young days on a farm in Ohio, where details of his early childhood is a long ago memory. He still remembers his time, I’m sure, when he answered to “Hot Fudge Sundae”.
Thank goodness he can’t hear me utter that name anymore….either he is deaf, or he has incredibly selective hearing.
When he was three and a half, this dog’s life changed drastically. He went into “rescue”, and moved to Maryland. Where, a kind person changed his unfortunate name to “Finn”, a much more fitting name.
Finn had no idea what was going to happen to him next.
Neither did I.
Finn has now spent more than two-thirds of his life living in Greenwich Village. No, not a village in the countryside named Greenwich, but Greenwich Village, on the island of Manhattan. New York City.
If Finn were able to talk, I wonder what kind of stories he would tell:
- “I used to live in a kennel outside. Now I ride the elevator into an apartment and while there are multiple places I’m supposed to sleep, I prefer the hardwood that reminds me of the concrete kennel floor.”
- “When I was more active, I could eat all the Milk Bones in the world…now I get carrots for snacks.”
- “I ran 10 miles every day, no problem. Whatever the weather. Now when it’s cold I prefer to wear my water resistant, fancy imported European coat.”
I can imagine all kinds of stories. I do truly hope of of them is:
“When I was four, I met this crazy lady and I knew I was home.”
Happy birthday to my best buddy. Happy 15th birthday, Finn!