Seven years since we welcomed Concha home from a breeder in Alberta. With the right combination of tough love and pampering, we got ourselves a garburator and half couch potato but by all means, he is a perfect dog.
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| Concha's photo by Hudson Wren |
He earned several nicknames since his "gotcha day", from his first nickname "Conchaboy", then there's: Conchaboo, Conchabels, Belsbels, Smelly Belly, Conchapie, Pie-pie, Bellyboi, Smellyboi, Concha-banana, Whitespot, Conchang, Fatso and the list goes on. I have composed a few songs about him that I regularly sing to get his attention and sometimes I can sense that he does his best to engage with me in his ways like a silent duet partner.
In seven years of being with us, Concha has gained a modest following on his Instagram account (@Conchaandme) and has been regularly mentioned in my little spot online. He is a dear family member, my daughter's pillow, and my 🐻's afternoon cuddle buddy, his loud snores are music to my ears, and being in his presence brings me comfort, he slept beside me when I contracted Covid virus.
At seven years old, he is considered a middle-aged dog. Gray fur is showing up on his chin, and he doesn't crave long daily walks. He contentedly snores the day away as I work nearby. Conchaboy has mellowed down a lot, but he still occasionally goes nuts when he senses an upcoming surprise, like a walk with his "girlfriend" or being picked up by Boneheads for a day hike, to keep him active and socialized.
As we celebrate his birthday, I wonder if he's aware that he is entitled to a birthday wish. If so, what would he wish?
If I could wish on his behalf... I'd wish for him to live longer...
(っ´ω`c)♡ ∪･ω･∪