Before launching into the life and times of my current Cardis, I want to pay homage to Dylan, the Cardigan that started my love of the breed.
When I got Dylan as a very young pup back in 1986, I didn't even know what a corgi was, Pem or Cardi. I was going through a rough patch in my mid-20s and about the only thing that cheered me up was a sheltie pup my parents had just acquired. As a birthday gift, my parents volunteered to pay for a puppy if I found one I wanted. Now keep in mind this was the 80's, with no internet yet, puppy mills were still a dirty secret, and buying a puppy at a pet store had none of the stigma it has now. With an itch for a puppy, it didn't take long for me to find a little pup that called to me at a local pet store. He had the cutest little split color face, huge paws and a wonderful brindle coat. Adorable beyond words! I forced myself to sleep on it, and if he was still there the next day, I was going to make him mine!
Dylan turned out to be an eager to please, easy to train delight, but boy-oh-boy I wish I had known about crate training way back then! He had tons of energy, and it needed an outlet. I would keep him in my bedroom when I went to work as it had a hardwood floor. For some reason he wouldn't pee on hardwood, but he would pee on the carpet in the rest of the apt. One day I came home to find he had tugged my queen size four poster bed to the middle of the room, and stripped it of all the sheets. From all the tugging, a seam had split, and from there he pulled out a bunch of stuffing. It was quite a sight to behold, and hard to believe such a small dog could move such a big bed! I did know that puppies needed to go to obedience training, so I enrolled him in a 6 week session sponsored by the county. He was both the class clown and the brightest pupil. He made it so easy, he loved to learn. From the beginning he was a great off-leash dog, with a tendency to herd you home on the return from a walk, tugging your pant leg to keep you moving along. His one true passion was to play frisbee. He would give you every trick in his repetoire just to goad you into throwing the frisbee. There was a stream in the woods behind my apartment, and after several rounds of fetch, he would fly down the hill, frisbee in mouth, to cool off in the water. Sure enough, he would let go of the frisbee and it would sink to the bottom. He had no problem plunging his head completely under water to retrieve his beloved toy.
Time moved on, things changed, and through it all he was my very best friend. If we are lucky at all, we each get to have at least that one special dog pass through our lives. Dylan was with me for just two weeks shy of seventeen years and saying goodbye was very difficult. Almost six years after his trip across the bridge, I still miss him. I wish I had a better photo to share but I didn't get a digital camera til well late in his life. He was a beautiful boy and I am so grateful he was in my life. I owe him alot. ....Thank you, Dylan, for everything!