I have a Big Willy – do you???

It dawned on me the other day that though I’ve written about Apples and Tanner on here, I’ve never written about my big gentle giant, Achilles aka Big Willy (and no pervs – that’s not a commentary on the size of his junk.)  His picture has been up a couple of times, but I never have told his story.

When Eric and I moved into our first house, we decided to get a third dog.  A big dog.  A dog that I could go running with and who would be a protector of our house.   There used to be a rescue here in the Northern Metro Area called Mile High Humane Society which wasn’t far from our home.  We both would look online at the dogs…and no joke, one day we both sent each other the link for Achilles (a German Shepherd husky mix) at almost the same time.  Call it reckless stupidity, fate, but Eric drove up there one day with my mom and adopted him. 

Achilles spent the first few hours of his new life with us tied up with an extension cord in the backyard.  At the time, our house only had a 3 foot chain link fence, and since Eric needed to get some supplies for our new big boy, he had to find some way to secure him in the yard for a quick trip to the store.  He told my mom, “We had better beat Angelika home from work – she’s not going to like this arrangement.”  (Side note:  We NEVER leave our dogs out when we are gone, but because Eric didn’t want him to destroy the house or devour the cats while they went to the store, he improvised.  We usually tie up our children, human and fur, with something far sturdier than an extension cord – zip ties work fantastic.)

Achilles was a crazy boy…about a year old he weighed in at a skinny 70 pounds.  He was a jumper too…I will never forget the day that my friend Cathy stopped over and I had Achilles outside.  She said, “Oh please let him in” even after my warnings that he was outside because he was a little too friendly.  So she opened the door and he literally knocked her right over, standing on top of her and smothering her with kisses while I hooted with laughter, bemusedly admonished him for being too exuberant.   (We will examine Achilles issues with personal space a bit later on.)

We took him to obedience class and discovered he was actually very obedient and eager to please.  He passed with flying colors.  After we proudly affixed his diploma to the fridge, like any proud parents would do,  I thought the time had come to take my new-fangled running partner out for our inaugural run.  Off we went and things went smoothly for the first half mile…he was a bit distracted by all of the scents, but since I’m not exactly a speed-demon it didn’t interrupt my pace too much.  We made it down by the creek, and Achilles spotted a demon bunny.  The next thing I knew I was flying down the side of the embankment towards the stinky creek water literally by the seat of my pants.    In addition to Achilles insane speed and hatred of bunnies, we also discovered on our first and only run together that he strongly dislikes water.  He came to a screeching halt when he reached the edge of the water.  Thankfully the small boulder I ran into crotch-first kept me from flying into Giardia Bay myself. 

Achilles is almost 10 years old now, and he projectile sheds his massive undercoat twice a year; the remainder of the year thoughtfully depositing tufts of hair around the house as little mementos lest we forget his big hairy ass is right behind us at all times.  He believes deep down in the core of his soul that he is a lap dog.  He’s a leaner and a kisser; Lord help the fool that sits on our floor and doesn’t expect to be wearing an Achilles coat and a Big Willy slobber smile when they get up, because our big boy has no concept of personal space.  Your space is his space.  Period.    He is gentle with his canine siblings and his feline siblings, although every once in a while our cat Jack’s incessant yowling gets the better of him, and he tips Fatty Jacky over and licks him all over.  (We secretly appreciate it though, because Jack has to meticulously clean the dog slobber off of himself and it shuts him up for a bit.)  Even at 9.5 years old, he acts like a puppy with our new little girl-dog Sally; always willing to wrestle, tug and run with her.

But by far his best friend in the whole world is our four-year old son Nolan.  Since the day we brought Nolan home, he has been by his side, and the only time his protective German Shepherd side has come out is when he feels someone is playing to rough with Nolan.  When that happens, he emits a low growl and shows his bottom teeth.  In fact, I’m pretty sure Achilles would sooner show intruders where our stash of paper plates, good china is before attacking.  But nobody hurts his boy; nobody.  Especially not him, my big, gentle giant.

Willy Watching Nolan.

Nolan (yes, his head really was that big and bald) playing Achilles a little ditty.

 

 

How you most often will find them ...TOGETHER.