Cardigan Complex @simonsaysbark - Tumblr Blog

Oct 31, 2023

Notzmo Simon Sez "Simon"

7/14/08 - 10/28/23

There's all these things I want to write.

I'm struggling. I'm a better writer than a speaker, but I'm going to ramble. Lots of words, and somehow, it's not even close to being enough.

Ever since I was a little kid, I wanted a Blue Merle dog. I know. I know. I'm going to get all my show friends and dog friends who shake their heads and say color doesn't matter. I know it doesn't, but- it did for me. It does. I love merles, I love how they look like fog in the woods on a Pacific Northwest Morning. They're swirls of grey and black with pops of tan or muted gold, all different patches. I adored them from afar. I grew up with an Old English Sheepdog, we had friends with merle Aussies and other merle dogs and man, did I covet them as a little girl. However my dog life went a direction I didn't forsee, to German Shepherds. Search and Rescue was my thing, my GSD's were wonderful at it, but the shop kinda took over my time. I showed Shepherds too, enjoyed that, but Matt wanted something a little smaller in the house.

So I did my research. I talked to folks, met dogs, and Corgis fit our lifestyle and our household. Cardigans especially. I could live with that, I've had herding dogs my whole life, they're a big dog with a giant heart and work ethic but with short legs. They had all the things I loved about Shepherds, and not so much of the things I sure can live without.

Plus they came in merle. Geninuely merle, a true pattern of the breed.

We ended up with two rescue Pems from rough beginnings, but man, I still wanted that Cardigan. I don't think I've ever told my Cardi folks how I sneakily went to dog shows, tried talking to some of the breeders a bit around my area. Most of them didn't have time those days. Me? I was too worried about making a mistake or being rude, coming across badly, and I was also hyper aware of how busy folks are at them and didn't want to push. I guess that was okay. Universe testing me, do you really want this breed? I did. The more I was around the ones I saw, the more I loved them.

So, I sent out a whole lot of email inquiries to folks, with pictures of my German Shepherds, with what a story of, what I did, that I showed, I trained. I think I had pictures of my dogs and my fenced yard, haha. I admit, I'm a little terrified to cold call folks, it's- it's hard for me. I told them I was willing to wait for the right dog to come along. I wanted something healthy, I wanted them to maybe try doing SAR or some dog sport, I wanted to try showing, but- I wanted a blue merle too. Years were fine. If I'm to be honest no one really answered, but I was patient and kept trying. Then I heard from Dona and Sharon, who-- had a litter and a pup that might fit what I wanted. It was way earlier than I expected but I was game. I told them, I loved working dogs, I love thinking dogs, I plan on doing all these things with my dog.

They picked him out for me, and he was everything they said he was right down to when I first met him at the airport and took him home, he snuggled and was calm and observant to everything, confident and thoughtful about his new life. He then snatched his leash in his mouth when I put him down on the lawn and took himself for his walk. I'd been warned he did that. He did it his whole life; he would carry his leash for the first few steps of every walk, just to let you know if he really wanted to, he could yank it out of your hand and do it himself just fine, thanks. He was housebroken in an instant. He only slept in a crate by the bed for less than a month before we found him curled up asleep in the big dog bed at bedtime and took a chance on him staying out and he was oddly perfect. I kept waiting for the terrible rotten teenage stages, but no. Simon never put a foot wrong, you could trust him flat out the house. He never made a mess or got into anything he wasn't supposed to. Period. Never chewed a single thing that wasn't for chewing. He played with my huge Shepherd, brave as could be.

And oh gosh. He loved toys. He loved fetch. Fetch. Ball. Ball. Ball. He was more focused and driven than some of my working line Shepherds I have owned. Way more.

I took a few pictures, posted them for myself on my blog that I'd had the Shepherds on... and was like huh, the camera really likes this little guy.

Little did I know what I'd let out of the box. Once he found that camera though, that was it. Folks ask all the time, did I give him treats? Did I train him to pose? Nope. Never. Not for pictures. I sure encouraged it, but to be honest, his reward was going out and posing on stuff and knowing he was awesome, throwing out his chest and strutting around Seattle like he owned it, taking walks in the woods and the crags and mountains, running through streams and dirt. Mud and filth and full tilt, but you never had to worry about him getting into trouble out there. He stuck close, and always kept an eye on where I was, even as a pup.

Simon snored in the bed. In the middle of the night he'd squish himself as close as possible, put his muzzle over my neck and his heavy, stubby leg over my shoulder and drool. He loved to cuddle. Cake was his favorite special treat in the world. His eyes would get like saucers over cake. I've shared so many dog friendly cakes. You could ask him if he wanted a bath and he'd make a decision on the spot, yes or no and hop himself in the tub on his own accord, which always made me laugh. He could swim like a otter.

I made so many friends from blogs and places that are long gone on the internet. Was overjoyed when I met other Cardigan folks on photo sites and blogs, because at the time you really... you didn't see them at all. Our online photo blog secret Cardi society and all that. My photography hobby and skill improved with him in massive leaps and bounds.

He was an internet star with followers before the net blew up into what it is now. I've thought about that over the years and to be honest, I'm glad it was that way because I got to know so many people on a one to one basis. We never did things specifically for money or fame like I see a lot of now. His fan base was organic and loved him just because he was a funny, expressive, and cool dog. Most of you who follow me didn't start following me for me, and I like that.

It was such a shock to me but a good one - I'm a bit quiet, but here I own this dog that's as extroverted as it gets, and it worked out. I was his faithful Nikon Paparazzi, he was my famous good looking actor. We would go places and people I never met before would ask me about my dog. He was a fantastic breed ambassador. People loved to hear what he was and learn about Cardigans. Many folks randomly recognized him from his blog, from Tumblr, from Flickr. I had people lean out of car windows or walk by us and snap a picture of him. Once I wasn't paying attention and he stopped mid stride when we were out in Seattle, and I nearly fell over him. As I managed to keep my feet (I said some naughty words, heh) I realized that I'd never saw the man leaning out the window with the phone camera in hand at the light by the theater snapping a shot. Simon sure did, and he was chest out, ears up, until the car behind the guy honked and the guy hastily waved at us and went on.

He helped me meet Cardi people, get involved in the breed with folks. I credit his presence for so many of my friends in this breed that I adore and who mean the world to me in Cardidom. Who helped me learn to show again after I lost my eye and was even more stressed about public moments because I didn't want to drop a dog on the floor off the table, or miss a cue. A big blue icebreaker. He oozed charm. He knew he was all that, but in the way that he didn't have to be in your face. Lady dogs loved him, it always cracked me up because he surprisingly wasn't into the girls. He was so easy to deal with around the ladies, and always polite to them. He'd give up food, treats, anything and was a gentleman- well, except when a ball was involved. (Dearest Kate... I'm sorry he ran into you like a Mack truck that one time we were all out playing. We all heard his big noggin crack into you like a football helmet, and he about laid you flat. I hope you get a chance to knock some sense into him in return, in that place where all good dogs go.)

Simon tried showing, because I wanted a show dog to show. To be honest, he has a few points but he never enjoyed it like Caleb. It really wasn't for him. He did it for me, because I wanted it, but his big ol' heart was in agility and fetching things and photographs. His second to final time in the ring still cracks me up to this day. I used a flat collar for agility and photo stuff and a thin chain for conformation. Well, I was in a hurry. I was late to the show, running to find my ring, so I left the flat on him. We whisked by the agility ring and he was totally on his toes and excited and happy and I was like "no, come on, let's GO." Oh boy. That was a mistake. He eyed me, eyed the ring, and gave me an absolute stink look. Simon has always been the sort to tell you he's not amused. He never pulled a punch when he thought you were being unfair. I was an idiot and blew him off because I was running on ring-jitters and coffee and panic because that's what you do sometimes.

So he got in the ring, he's on his toes and looking like a million bucks, gaits, moves out, stacks beautifully on the table and I'm like wow, wow, awesome, she's looking at us and he's showing off for everything he's worth. The judge moves us to the front of our class for the final go around and as we turn the corner in front of the judge's table, Simon looks up at me with an open mouthed sly smile, and I'm like "oh oh." I know I'm in trouble.

Without missing a beat he passes the judge's table right as she watches us go by, hikes his leg as high and obvious as he could and pretends to pee all over it, in mid-stride. He never peed a drop. Like in my horror and shock I kept looking- and there was not anything there. He made full on eye contact with the judge as he was faking it, that rotter.

Needless to say, we uh... well, we were dismissed without uh, getting dismissed, haha. As we left the ring, I looked down at him, he looked up at me and laughed as big as he could, tongue lolling, grin to his ears. He laid it out as clear as he could, and all I could do was walk away to find a place to sit with him, put his big head in my hands and say to him, "Yup. I screwed up. Sorry." He sat and eyed me and then I just laughed and laughed because he was absolutely right. I was rude, I made the mistake. It was my fault, and I apologized and he laughed with me, slurped me, and I was instantly forgiven. He never held a grudge with you for messing up. He really didn't. I never held a grudge with him, because most of the time it wasn't his fault, and when it was, he also apologized. He was easy that way.

That was our relationship in a nutshell. I love my dogs, I love all my dogs but Simon was different, he was as near-human as it gets. I hate saying dogs are human because I think- well, I think it takes away from the dogness that makes the amazing animals that they are. They aren't human, and that's important to respect... but in his case I'll make that exception to myself. I can't explain it. You could ask him to do something new to him, show him what you wanted, and he'd mull it over in his head and problem solve it. Food wasn't a motivator. Ball surprisingly wasn't his motivator either. It was the task, the thing, the puzzle of working the problem out. That's what he enjoyed more than anything. I wish I could say it was me as this amazing dog trainer. Nope. Nada. I've taught a whole lot of dogs to do a whole lot of things, but Simon was a whole other level. I've never had one like him. I'm pretty sure I'll never have one again.

He could do the funniest thing with his feet. Like, when he was just walking around the house he'd shuffle along the floor. You'd hear him scuffling his claws tik-a-ticka, tick-a-ticka. He was lazy and didn't care if you heard him. But- when he wanted to be a ninja, he could pull up his claws and walk effortless on his pads somehow, he was a master of stealth on the hardwood floors and you'd never know he'd gone by. Mostly so could open the gate and climb the cat posts and steal dry cat food in a heartbeat. Even when he was older and couldn't really climb like he used to, he'd stop every time through the back room and wait for his token piece of cat food on the way in from outside. I'd say "One cat food please?" and give him his tribute; only then would he trot out and let me shut the gate. He waited patiently for all the dogs here to leave their bowls and wander off after dinner and then he'd go grab them and stack them in a pile carefully within each other so that he could possibly get one extra crumb that might have been left behind.

He was supposed to be my dog, and he was, he loved me and would do anything for me, but he was Matt's buddy (even if he NEVER listened to him or heeled when walking with him, he'd drag him all over the place and it was both hilarious and awful but hey, that was between men, doing manly things.) He tested anyone who held his leash. It was a game for him, he would look over at me to say, heh, watch this. He found it amusing to see if someone else would actually ask him to mind his manners, and if they did, he would but if you didn't? Game on. He'd never try it with me though. He always loved men more than women when we were out and about. He desired those locker room thumps on the chest and the shoulder, not baby talk, coos, little scritches behind his ears. They watched the Patriots and the Seahawks together since Simon was a tiny puppy. Football season was his thing. Ball ball ball, on tv, to fetch, to play and amuse himself for hours.

I've never shared the last coherent words Matt said to me to a lot of people. I'm sharing them now because I'm sort of laid bare, but I've thought about them for years. It wasn't I love you, or anything like that. We didn't need to say that, because it had been said so many times while he was in hospice. That was understood. It was, "I'm glad for one thing. I won't be here when Simon... goes."

I understood that too. Our weekends of Simon, Caleb, cameras, and outings were such a special and happy part of our lives. Matt was the driver, the equipment wrangler, the one who found weird out of the way places for us to take pictures and then to eat weird food out in the middle of nowhere. He always got a dessert he could share with Si (Caleb isn't really a sweet-toothed dude.) Something we all loved.

Simon knew Matt was gone. He knew. He was depressed and sad and nothing I could say or do or take him out to play could change it. The other dogs adapted, changed, but for months, he kept looking for him. Simon loved me with everything he was and still loved to go out and take pictures with me, but I was not his football buddy, I was not his fellow sports fan. It was when my younger brother moved in with me for a while during the pandemic that changed things again. Simon adored my brother, and when my brother went away on a trip for a week, his anxiety went high. When he came back though, Simon looked at me and I said, "Yep, he'll come back. It's okay, it's not the same." That was it. That's all he needed and it was like a huge sigh and off he went, and was completely okay again after that. He never worried again. My brother is surprisingly not a pet person, but he loved Simon with all of his heart and offered to take him if something happened to me. That was huge. Thanks, bro. I know you meant it and it was a relief for me to know that in case of the unthinkable, he'd be with someone who appreciated him for who he was, obnoxious Simon barking moments and all.

Also, my brother taught him the dumbest game. Shuffling through the kitchen dragging him along as his front paws gripped your feet, splooted with his stubby legs trailing behind him. Not so much thanks for that to my brother- Simon wanted this game every morning before I had coffee. I blearily scooted him every across the kitchen floor morning because while the other dogs rushed outside to pee like normal dogs, Simon would hold it until he had his sliding fun first.

On one hand, he was this hard hitting, incredible working beast of a dog. People would say, "I want a dog like Simon." Well, no, most folks don't. There are very few people who would have loved living with him. Most of them just saw cute pictures and Simon posing. In the wrong home, he would have been terrible, and there were times he was tough to live with - I'm the first to admit it. For me, he was perfect. I loved his drive, his intuition, his bravery, his intelligence, but he never stopped during his whole life and I am grateful he was sharp as ever and still galloping along for the last years. He was as busy and active as he ever was to the end.

He wasn't easy sometimes around other strange dogs. Like, he didn't take crud from anyone or anything. If you were polite, he was polite and shook hands and moved along without fuss, but if you were rude or aggressive (even to another dog, not him) nope. He had no problem laying the law down. Was he fair about it? Absolutely, but he was serious. He did not ever appreciate an in your space, jumping up, untrained dog in the slightest, and had no tolerance for it. People who let unleashed dogs run up to us on a walk were eyed with a side eye and you could see him blow up and hear the low rumble- and if the dog got nasty... oof. Once during a photo session on the beach, Caleb - who was just lying right next to me and not engaging anything - got attacked by a awful loose dog who charged up on us. The owner was completely oblivious and yelling oh, he's friendly. (Of course, right?)

Caleb's no fighter, he just rolled over and was shrieking and being shaken. Simon was playing in the water out from us a bit and while I had dove in, trying to get the dog off of Caleb, Si came in so fast and so hard and so silent he slammed that dog easily twice his size off his feet and knocked him back from us. Simon absolutely thrashed that dog. To this day I swear he teleported. However, he sent that obnoxious dog running for their life and immediately stopped and came back to check on us, standing between us and the dog while staring bullets and laser eyes at it as it went running away back to mommy in the distance.

Simon loved cats though. Adored cats. Cats were his thing. He was the crazy cat dad dog. He would have loved it if we adopted a million cats and he was the one to decide we were keeping his Sophie, period. We had no say in that. She was his kitty, and has been all these years. Kittens, cats, ferals, non ferals, bottle babies, random barn cats, some strange cat on the street, it didn't matter. He loved them all. He never met a cat he didn't like, and cats liked him back. Or at least tolerated him more than most dogs. Even my mom's cat Rudy, who is uh, hard to like. Simon would let a cat hiss, spit, snarl, swipe and all he did was turned his head and waited for them to come to the conclusion that he wasn't dangerous. He raised so many foster kittens for me and taught them to be dog friendly. He adored puppies too. He was the best babysitter, and a combination of fair discipline and goofy play. He was the gentlest dog with food and treats, he had the softest mouth of any dog I've ever owned, he never once snapped at a treat or a person. You could hand him a dollop of frosting and he'd lick it off your fingers ever so carefully. He never got upset at a vet or someone trying to handle him, he was gracious about it.

Like I said, Simon rarely held grudges. Caleb holds grudges at the drop of a hat (oh boy does he ever) but I promise he usually forgets in a week or two. Simon? Not at all with the ones he loved. That's one of the reasons that these two boys have been together all these years so well. Other dogs would have probably buried Caleb in the backyard at times when his stripeyship wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. Sure, they postured, they puffed, sometimes they threw a punch and went to get a beer after, like good ol' boys do, but Simon forgave Caleb for being a doofus and Caleb got away with being a doofus because Simon knew Caleb never meant anything by all of his bluster. We never had a serious drag out fight between them even with girls in season.

Simon adored Caleb and Caleb loved Simon. They were just fine being apart, they weren't attached at the hip, but Simon loved Caleb like you love your little brother and also can sit on him when he's being unreasonable. He was so delighted when we apparently got him his own puppy, and he was a puppy himself at the time. Once after Caleb had been out for a while with a handler to finish his Championship, we went and picked him after like four months. By that time Caleb had been a big shot on an all girl campus and thought he was all that and a bag of chips. Stripey red dog's ego was running high, and Simon was just lying in the back of the car eyeing him with a quiet sigh, like he expected him to chill out anytime soon.

Finally after maybe half an hour of Caleb being unbearably snarky, Simon got up, leaned over, and grabbed Caleb's muzzle in his mouth. He held onto it as if to say "That's enough of that, bro. Manners." He never broke skin, he never hurt him. Just a brotherly dog dope slap.

Caleb realized in one shining lightbulb moment that he was headed back home, and he was way too big for his britches. Just like that, over and done, all was back to being pals. Simon let go, licked him on the head, and they slept in a pile all the way home.

In the end, there's only one thing I weirdly regret a little. Simon's photos won every category in the photo contest at Nationals... except Best In Show. Surprisingly, that was on Caleb and Tempe, but-- I think it's fitting. Si loved his pack here with all of his heart, and I guess he was like eh, they can have that one moment, why not. He was always generous with his toys and treats for the most part with his family of dogs. Except ball. Nope, all balls and toys all belonged to him.

I once went to Seattle with a wonderful friend of mine, Paige. We were taking some photos of Simon and her Cardigan Story. It was chilly and we ducked into a spot by the Bon, I think, to get out of the wind for a second. This young woman came up and asked us about the dogs. When we said their names she looked at us and said, "Simon? THE Simon? From Tumblr?"

Sure. The Simon. Yep. When she realized who it was she erased her friend's wedding pictures off of her phone so she could take pictures of him and herself for her dad who was also a huge fan. (This was when phones had limited storage, so it was a big deal.) I don't know if you're out there on on the net or follow us still, but... I want you to know that's made me smile all these years. Paige and I were walking back when she turned to me and said "I- all these people, know who he is here. Wow. I didn't think when you wrote about it- I was like, huh, no, that can't be real. I thought you were kidding."

I still run into people out there in the wild like that. It tickles me as much as it did the first time.

The Simon.

That sums him up. I have had a lot of dogs. He- he wasn't a dog. Well, he was, because yes, he did dog things, like pushed a chair across a room to pee on my kitchen table once as a young dog because he hated a Cardgian statue I'd placed on it. He ran off with an admiring posse of Cardi girls at a friend's house who showed him the grossest mud ever and rolled in it until he was black. It turned to concrete on his coat and stunk the back of my car up so bad we had to strip everything out because it smelled like swamp on hot days for months. He barked at full volume at the top of his lungs at the drop of a hat just to hear his own voice to the point where sometimes his name felt like Simon Shut Up, Dude. He fetched like a maniac. He loved his jolly balls until they turned into strips and refused the new ones until he had no choice but to give in and then he loved those to scraps. Also, he barked. He had to tell you every single day of his life about how his day was. Did I mention he barked? I think so.

He had the best bork. A roaring superbark from his chest, like a dog ten times his size. He used it all the time. It's so quiet right now here. It'll be quiet when we get up in the morning from now on, and when I come home from work because he led the morning chorus we're awake joy bark, and the evening song of you're home joy bark, and his bark was always one trumpeting about every thing he did. Simon Sez.

He was my best friend. I loved him. With everything I am, and the dogs and cats here loved him too. I'm absolutely shattered right now, and I have so much more I could say, but this is long and I need to stop because I could go on forever. Fifteen years with a friend and all the ups and downs and roads we've traveled and experiences we've had can't be summed in a Facebook post, but I've done the best I can. The short pack and I don't know what to do this morning. This is a huge hole- no, a chasm. I don't think it's the sort you ever fill up.

Thank you to Dr. Bill Larson and his wonderful staff took incredible care of him all these years from puppy until now, and all the other amazing vets and specialists who ever worked with him and kept him healthy and happy.

Thank you Sharon, thank you Dona, for trusting me with Simon for all these years and always checking in on us and being proud of your grandpup. I can't ever say thank you enough for taking a chance on me for my first Cardigan. I like to say we sometimes don't get the dogs we want, but we always get the ones we need. However, he was everything I could have ever wanted and needed in one wonderful dog. I'm ever so grateful for the fact that until the very last minute, he was active and playing and sharp as a tack.

Thank you, all of you who shared his life with me. So many of you love Cardigans or found Cardigans as a breed because of him. I can name a lot of you, and I appreciate from the bottom of my heart hearing all these stories of your dogs and your life with them. These wonderful dogs deserve it. There is no other breed I want in my life.

Thank you, Si for everything. Everything.

You were one of a kind. The absolutely perfect crazy blue merle dog that my inner little kid could have ever, ever wished for.