by Heather, Atticus’ Human Housemate

Plenty of people get resentful about Valentine’s Day. It’s a Hallmark holiday, they say, or it just reminds us that we are desperately alone on a day where romantic relationships are in hyperfocus.

Usually I’m in the resentful camp as well—Valentine’s Day is more exciting to me as a day to eat chocolate than anything else. But not today! This year I am celebrating my love for my dog Atticus. (But not by eating chocolate with him!)

Atticus came into my life in December 2001, when he was about eight weeks old. My house had been broken into on a Friday night, and that weekend my family wanted me to go with them to look at a litter of Aussies being advertised in the classifieds. They thought a dog would be a deterrent to future thefts, and besides, “looking doesn’t hurt,” they said. Well—I got attached to this one particular red merle with gorgeous blue eyes, and the next thing you knew he was asleep in my arms on the ride home and I was officially a dog owner. (Please note: this is a classic case of how not to get a dog!)

Ideally in a dog ownership situation the lifestyle would dictate the dog-getting—instead, I got the dog and dramatically altered how I lived in order to honor my lifetime commitment to him. As soon as I had him as a puppy I all but gave up theater, which had been taking me out of the house quite a lot. Over the years much of my time has had to be spent at home when not at work, because Aussies have a lot of energy to burn and need to be around their people. Atticus being in my life has influenced almost everything—from being able to spend the night away from home (I can’t, without him) to where I can live (finding a place to live with a 64 pound dog can be tough!).

Responsibility has an up side though. Living with an energetic Australian shepherd keeps you on the straight and narrow. You will never sleep past 7am as long as they’re alive. Each day will follow a routine—revolving around getting up, going to play in the park, doggy breakfast, getting stuff done while they nap in the afternoon, doggy dinner, more play time, and then bed. Stray too far from the routine and there will be consequences. They will let you know. You will eventually learn that observing how people respond to your dog and his needs says a lot about them—and whether you should be associating with them.

If you ever go to a party, drink a lot, and then get home at 2am—you will likely not do it again after the next morning when a single paw is gently scratching the mattress in front of your face at 6:45am. You will open your eyes and see a furry face staring back at you, quietly whimpering, “Why aren’t you up yet?” If you’ve not owned an Aussie, you may think you’ll get to go back to sleep. You won’t.

This past summer Atticus and I got to spend a lot of quality time together. We lived in a neighborhood of Missoula, MT, that had ridiculously plentiful trail access. The outdoor opportunities were something we both enjoyed, so we took long walks at least twice a day. On the weekends I would often take him on my weekly road trip out of town—when he couldn’t join me at a particular destination to poke around a forest or wade into a lake, he would wait contentedly in the car. Atticus previously got pretty snarky meeting other dogs, but after all the friendly dogs he met in Montana, he now handles up-close interaction a lot better. (We both do, actually.) It was during our time in Montana that Atticus started this photo-a-day blog—so when he dies, no one will ever be able to lament a lack of photos of this spunky guy.

Atticus is now 10 years old. A senior. He’s getting even better as he ages. He’s still energetic but has mellowed considerably over the years. Now and again he’ll get too frisky for his own good, pull a muscle in his neck and then be motionless and miserable for a day or two. He also sometimes startles out of sleep—if a rogue foot is too close to his face when this happens, he tends to chomp first and ask questions later. (His chomping is more startling than dangerous, though.) This winter he has made a habit of stealing my place in bed as soon as I get up to make my morning tea, spreading across the whole bed so there’s no room left for me.

I am enjoying Atticus in his golden years as much as I can, as we’ve only got so much time left.