The Tail With No Ending
Tuesday 20th Aug
Dex was only about three years old when he had to have his tail docked. I barely remember what he looked like with a tail, though I remember it was long and wagged A LOT.
Dex had what's known as "happy tail", where the end of the tail is injured (often because they can't help themselves from wagging as hard as possible), and because of the wagging, it sometimes struggles to heal. Dex had half his tail amputated at first, but even when he was crying in pain, he kept on wagging, and his poor tail just couldn't get any better.
A lot of anaesthesia and the other half a tail later, Dex became known as "Stumpy". Perhaps that sounds a little mean, but he twerked and twerked that back end of his, and his stump would stand up any time he was excited or agitated, and honestly, a goofy name like that fit the big-eared goof that he was.
Sometimes, people saw Dex and assumed he was a Rottweiler or some other "aggressive" breed. Sure, having a docked tail didn't help that assumption, nor did his need for a 'nervous' collar for a great many years, but *we* knew better. *We* knew Dex for the gentle giant and loveable oaf he was. Was he clumsy? Yup. Was he a bit nutty? Absolutely. But was he aggressive? Never.
Dex had what I can only assume was the loudest bark in the world (or it sure seemed like it in a small space) if he wanted to warn someone off, but he loved - and I mean LOVED - nothing more than playing on the beach or in filthy water or with little dogs. He found complete and utter joy in chasing a stick that would get progressively smaller every time he fetched it back. He'd run up and down the smallest patch of grass if it meant playing with a ball or a squeaky toy or, well, anything you'd throw for him, really.
He loved rolling over onto his back and getting a good belly rub. Possibly even more when he knew that wasn't your actual intention, but you'd do it anyway.
He loved having people come to visit and bringing them a slipper, or a trainer, or a cuddly, or anything not tied down. There's a sheep toy in the living room that's been introduced to more visitors than even I have.
I suppose, in essence, Dex loved life. He loved the simplest of things, and he was so easy to please. He never ever let his lack of a tail hide that joy. He'd stand there with a babba in his mouth and that stump would wiggle away to itself.
It's these little memories I have of him that I treasure, because they were the smallest of things Dex did that made him so... Dexy. I hope that it's the silliest and simplest memories that stick with me the longest, because that's what keeps someone alive. The memories, the smiles, and the fondness.
Dex's tail may have had no ending, and I'll do my very best for the rest of my days to make sure that his tale has no ending, either.
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