German Shepherds, existential angst.

This post has nothing to do with romance, only love.

Jake (ten months old) is my third GSD, German Shepherd Dog.

I’ve owned a lot of breeds - as a kid we had fox terriers, Shelties, collies…my mom’s family raised Boston Terriers. My father’s family kept a series of border collies, all named Harvey.

As an adult, I’ve owned a half-coyote mixed breed, a black lab, a golden retriever and now three German Shepherds. You know what they say…once you own a German Shepherd, you never go back…

Our wonderful, clownish Golden, Rosie, never wondered about her place in the world. Whatever we did, whatever was happening, was just fine with her. And guilt? What guilt? No matter how many holes she dug, plants she chewed up, shoes she ate or people she bowled over, she lived life out loud, with joy, enthusiasm, and without apology. She didn’t know the meaning of the word worry.

Jake, on the other hand, like Louie before him, and like Boaz before Louie, wrestles with existential angst. He wonders about his reason for being. He tries hard to figure out his place in this world and to find his role in this strange, hair-challenged, two-legged pack he’s been adopted into.

The GSD is the most intelligent breed I’ve ever worked with. They learn fast and they retain, oh, pretty much everything. They have long memories. And they carry grudges. If someone did them - or their pack - wrong, believe me, they will remember who, what, where and when. And they worry. A lot. But Louie and Jake have different interests and skill sets.

Louie was a sports fanatic, but football was his obsession. You try getting off a pass when the fastest, strongest pass rusher in the world is bearing down on you at full speed. Louie, running after the football at full bore, was a terrifying sight. He could always sucker me into dropping the ball.

Jake, on the other hand, loves basketball. You should see him rebound. While Louie was guilty of constant over-the-back fouls, Jake keeps his eyes on the prize. He goes for the ball. He can catch it with his front feet and dribble, soccer-style, with either foot, even change directions. He knows what out of bounds is - how to keep the ball on the basketball court, which is pretty hilarious. He plays nice with me, letting me shoot so he can rebound. With hubby, the kid gloves come off and they play a mean and merciless game. Jake can steal the ball like nobody’s business.

As you can see, I’m unapologetic about my anthropomorphism. I wasn’t a hundred percent certain I’d recover from Louie’s sudden death, the memory still makes me cry. He was my best friend. But Jake is just as cool. He’s not a clone of Louie, which is good, but he tries every bit as hard to be a full-fledged member of this family.