DFB
Well-known member
- Aug 12, 2019
- 5,732
- 4,838
Meet my little Olly……………………..
With 40-degrees predicted today, we got on the road at about 7.30am and arrived at about 9.30am. The outskirts of Melbourne was far kinder temperature wise, only 20-degrees.................I need to move! We then arrived back home at about 11.30am, basically before the heat set in.
My boy is very tired in these shots. In preparation for the 1 hr 40-min ride home, he had been allowed to run riot with his two remaining siblings and momma Lola. Both Olly and Lola met us at the door, Lola doing exactly what Faych's mum did, jumping up on the back of the couch with sheer delight. Classic Cocker's, they love to be up at your height and just love meeting new people. Momma was beautiful, very trusting, very happy. I'm told pappa is a gentle soul, I just wish some of his blue roan coat had passed on, but a black and white Cocker is somewhat rare.
Olly cried a little as we left his mother behind, which breaks my heart and has me on the verge of tears, but it's a totally natural part of a dog's life. He was also very tired and hungry as his last meal was timed so as to not upset him on the way home. He fell asleep in my arms, well as much as any soul could traversing the horrible Hume highway. He actually slept better when I took him off my lap and into the back seat................actually, he made that decision, I just gave him a little hand to climb over the console.
In the days after I lost my best mate Faych, the grief was unbearable, the most intense I’ve ever felt. I’ve lost special humans in my life, but this was on a completely different level. And that also led to an element of guilt, that I would feel such pain losing a dog over and above the loss of a human. The notion of “he’s just a dog” is therefore hurtful on many different levels because not only does it devalue the relationship you had, but also instils unhelpful guilt.
Within the first few days after he left us, my morning coffee and social media scroll was triggering. I kept seeing photos and videos of dogs, but my heart was so broken that I would quickly skip ahead, I just couldn’t handle it. And yet, pictures and videos of a particular proud momma nursing her new-born babies was persistently populating my feed. But then I started to take notice of them, and you know how that goes with social media algorithms.
Over the following week, the support I got was overwhelming, particularly the advice that sometimes the best way of healing is to just get back on the horse. And so, I allowed myself to at least think about what the future could look like. And so, a Google search and 5-minutes later, I unintentionally landed on the same puppies that had been spamming my feed. I read their story, fell in love with the momma and pappa, noticed that they weren't too far away. Three of the eleven puppies were left unallocated, one black, one black and white, and one tri-colour. After sleeping on it, I made an application and listed my request for tri-colour. Within half an hour I was contacted by the breeder and accepted, but the tri-colour had only just been allocated. The all-black pup had a white muzzle would have been a little tender considering Faych was almost the same. And so, little black and white Aston became my little Olly.
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The name Olly was never in question, it’s a name I’ve had stored away for years. I had always wanted to introduce a puppy while Faych was still with us, give him a little friend to mentor. But Faych was so clingy, I just didn’t know how he would take it, I’d never want him to feel like he was being replaced. I know that’s stupid, but when you have such a close bond, I feel like I was protecting him and myself by feeling that. And so, I kept the name for safe keeping in my head for the day I’d need it.
As the days and weeks went on, the breeder kept in touch with updates, videos, photos, messages of support. For whatever reason, I didn’t take note of when this litter of puppies was born. And then it hit me. Faych left us on the afternoon of November 28th, 2025, and Olly was born in the morning of November 29th, 2025. I hadn’t planned on adopting another companion so quickly, and in early December it was just too soon. And yet here I was diving headfirst into commitment, which led to another level of guilt, like I was replacing my Faychie boy like a light bulb. But with how those photos and videos kept popping up, despite my disinterest, and then learning of Olly’s birthday, I truly believe it was meant to be, that someone or something was guiding me in this direction. And from that point on, I knew I had made the right decision……………..or perhaps that decision was already made for me, I just had to let the universe do its thing. And I say all of that as a non-spiritual being, but I think sometimes we have to allow ourselves to believe, especially if it helps us heal.
I’d also like to acknowledge something I was told in the days after Faych passed away, because it truly made all the difference…………………..
"The dog you have today, was sent to you by the dog you loved yesterday."
The breeder wasn't kidding when she said Olly is an outdoors dog! I'm told he was always the last puppy to come inside and was completely content with his own company out there. However, while the puppies had access to a backyard, there was only lawn and concrete paths for them to contend with, no garden beds. Well, the garden seems to be of particular fascination, and from what I've seen so far, I think I may have a digger on my hands.
After wee wees, some food and a little play, he's completely zonked. Despite the expensive fluffy bed and soft rugs at his disposal, it seems the coolness of the bare tiles is his preference.
We're a little lost at the moment as we figure each other out, its a big adjustment for the both of us. I also have to be mindful not to expect Olly to behave in the same way Faych did. In that I mean from a personality sense, but also the fact one is an 8-week-old puppy, the other a 13-year-old senior. Time and patience will sort things out.
With 40-degrees predicted today, we got on the road at about 7.30am and arrived at about 9.30am. The outskirts of Melbourne was far kinder temperature wise, only 20-degrees.................I need to move! We then arrived back home at about 11.30am, basically before the heat set in.
My boy is very tired in these shots. In preparation for the 1 hr 40-min ride home, he had been allowed to run riot with his two remaining siblings and momma Lola. Both Olly and Lola met us at the door, Lola doing exactly what Faych's mum did, jumping up on the back of the couch with sheer delight. Classic Cocker's, they love to be up at your height and just love meeting new people. Momma was beautiful, very trusting, very happy. I'm told pappa is a gentle soul, I just wish some of his blue roan coat had passed on, but a black and white Cocker is somewhat rare.
Olly cried a little as we left his mother behind, which breaks my heart and has me on the verge of tears, but it's a totally natural part of a dog's life. He was also very tired and hungry as his last meal was timed so as to not upset him on the way home. He fell asleep in my arms, well as much as any soul could traversing the horrible Hume highway. He actually slept better when I took him off my lap and into the back seat................actually, he made that decision, I just gave him a little hand to climb over the console.
In the days after I lost my best mate Faych, the grief was unbearable, the most intense I’ve ever felt. I’ve lost special humans in my life, but this was on a completely different level. And that also led to an element of guilt, that I would feel such pain losing a dog over and above the loss of a human. The notion of “he’s just a dog” is therefore hurtful on many different levels because not only does it devalue the relationship you had, but also instils unhelpful guilt.
Within the first few days after he left us, my morning coffee and social media scroll was triggering. I kept seeing photos and videos of dogs, but my heart was so broken that I would quickly skip ahead, I just couldn’t handle it. And yet, pictures and videos of a particular proud momma nursing her new-born babies was persistently populating my feed. But then I started to take notice of them, and you know how that goes with social media algorithms.
Over the following week, the support I got was overwhelming, particularly the advice that sometimes the best way of healing is to just get back on the horse. And so, I allowed myself to at least think about what the future could look like. And so, a Google search and 5-minutes later, I unintentionally landed on the same puppies that had been spamming my feed. I read their story, fell in love with the momma and pappa, noticed that they weren't too far away. Three of the eleven puppies were left unallocated, one black, one black and white, and one tri-colour. After sleeping on it, I made an application and listed my request for tri-colour. Within half an hour I was contacted by the breeder and accepted, but the tri-colour had only just been allocated. The all-black pup had a white muzzle would have been a little tender considering Faych was almost the same. And so, little black and white Aston became my little Olly.
The name Olly was never in question, it’s a name I’ve had stored away for years. I had always wanted to introduce a puppy while Faych was still with us, give him a little friend to mentor. But Faych was so clingy, I just didn’t know how he would take it, I’d never want him to feel like he was being replaced. I know that’s stupid, but when you have such a close bond, I feel like I was protecting him and myself by feeling that. And so, I kept the name for safe keeping in my head for the day I’d need it.
As the days and weeks went on, the breeder kept in touch with updates, videos, photos, messages of support. For whatever reason, I didn’t take note of when this litter of puppies was born. And then it hit me. Faych left us on the afternoon of November 28th, 2025, and Olly was born in the morning of November 29th, 2025. I hadn’t planned on adopting another companion so quickly, and in early December it was just too soon. And yet here I was diving headfirst into commitment, which led to another level of guilt, like I was replacing my Faychie boy like a light bulb. But with how those photos and videos kept popping up, despite my disinterest, and then learning of Olly’s birthday, I truly believe it was meant to be, that someone or something was guiding me in this direction. And from that point on, I knew I had made the right decision……………..or perhaps that decision was already made for me, I just had to let the universe do its thing. And I say all of that as a non-spiritual being, but I think sometimes we have to allow ourselves to believe, especially if it helps us heal.
I’d also like to acknowledge something I was told in the days after Faych passed away, because it truly made all the difference…………………..
"The dog you have today, was sent to you by the dog you loved yesterday."
The breeder wasn't kidding when she said Olly is an outdoors dog! I'm told he was always the last puppy to come inside and was completely content with his own company out there. However, while the puppies had access to a backyard, there was only lawn and concrete paths for them to contend with, no garden beds. Well, the garden seems to be of particular fascination, and from what I've seen so far, I think I may have a digger on my hands.
After wee wees, some food and a little play, he's completely zonked. Despite the expensive fluffy bed and soft rugs at his disposal, it seems the coolness of the bare tiles is his preference.
We're a little lost at the moment as we figure each other out, its a big adjustment for the both of us. I also have to be mindful not to expect Olly to behave in the same way Faych did. In that I mean from a personality sense, but also the fact one is an 8-week-old puppy, the other a 13-year-old senior. Time and patience will sort things out.
