Of the 4,760 ideas I considered for this post, Marvin kept popping to the top of the list.
Marvin is our dog. He’ll feature heavily on this blog, so here’s a primer.
He’s one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I’m sure my husband Guy would say the same. He’s my first dog. And he’s amazing. Except when he bites our shoes while we’re walking. That’s annoying. And his old-man dog breath is a bit hard to take sometimes. Other than that, Marvin is canine perfection.
He was rescued by the PEI Humane Society with nine adorable puppy siblings 10 years ago. The jerk who kept Marvin’s mom tied up in his yard agreed to relinquish the babies but wouldn’t let go of poor Mama. I think of her often, wondering whether she stayed a chained prisoner for the rest of her life.
At the Humane Society, most of the pups scrambled and squealed for our attention at the front of the cage. Meanwhile, Marvin was one of two shy puppies huddled pathetically at the back. He gave us a sad little side eye and that was it. He was ours.
His microchip ID indicated Little Baby Side-Eye was Marvin. The whole pack had “M” names. The woman responsible for their intake said when it came time to name them it was the end of a long day and she didn’t feel too imaginative.
But we liked the name Marvin for our new pup. And it has totally suited him.
What do you think of when you hear the name? To me, a Marvin-type is kind, loving, extremely loyal and a little goofy. He’s handsome but doesn’t know it. Anger is a slow burn for a Marvin but when provoked, watch your ankles.
That’s our boy. We don’t know for sure but suspect he’s genetically flush with a bunch of so-called bad breeds: Rottweiler, German Shepherd, Doberman. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has some Terrier and Labrador mixed in too.
Marvin will be a full decade old on August 28. He’s slowed down a lot in the past couple of years and is on thyroid and arthritis medication. He enjoys doing farm “perimeter checks” every morning and, in the nice weather, sits on the lawn all day watching the world go by.
Other than Guy and me, he really loves my Mom, his big brother Marc (my stepson), Jack the cat, his Po-Bo (a stuffed polar bear an ex gave me a million years ago), frisbee and chest scratches.
He has a big woof, sheds constantly and is terrified of the basement, vets and being in cars.
A big trip for him these days is a 10-minute drive to a nearby beach where he “swims.” This mainly consists of him running into the water, doing a half circle and coming back onto shore. Multiply that by 10 or 20 times depending on his energy level that particular day.
More time has passed than we have ahead with Marvin. I have a hard time visualizing any other dog sleeping under my desk (where Marvin is right now as I write), following me dutifully back and forth to the barn, turning inside out with excitement when one of us comes home or snoring sweetly on the couch.
As much as a future dog will be absolutely adored, it will never be my first. It will never be Marvin.
2 thoughts on “M is for Marvin”
Another beautiful tale.
Beautiful!