An Important Part of My Identity

When Lindsey told me way back when- before we lived together but when we were planning to live together- that she wanted to get a boxer I had to be convinced. I grew up with dogs with pointy noses and more obedient attitudes, but the boxer she got (Xena) ended up being my favorite dog ever and the boxer after (Luna) is a key feature of this blog. She got Xena from a woman near her apartment in Denton, and I will never forget how cute I thought she was or how much she hated the snow that had fallen one of the times I went up there to visit them. Xena's puppy whine is still something I can pull out on demand, its a permanent fixture of my memory. 

When early in our pre-marriage relationship things with me and Lindsey got rocky I wouldn't allow myself to leave because I knew if I did that meant I would have to say goodbye to Xena too. I stuck it out and internalized being a "boxer guy" as my identity, and when things worked out (at least for a while) and we got married I would often think that my life was a life built on a boxer's back. 

Some of my favorite memories of us living in the duplex in Odessa was taking Xena for walks, and when we moved to Leander one of my favorite places in town soon became the dog park to take both her and Luna (who we got right before we moved) to. On Back to the Future Day I realized how lucky I was to be living a part of my life when both boxers were alive and well, and how much I didn't think I ever wanted a future part of my life to be without a boxer. 

So when Lindsey wanted to go check out a boxer rescue event on September 21, 2021 it didn't take much to sell me. Luna had been gone for a few months and the house felt too quiet even with a two year old. Most of all I had lost a piece of my identity and I wanted to get it back. Lindsey wasn't committed to get one at the event or even if we needed another dog yet, but I kinda knew we wouldn't walk away empty handed. It was boxer time. 

The event was one of my strongest memories and I luckily I did a good job documenting it in a earlier post when the adoption process was still fresh on my mind. My main takeaway years later was I got a piece of my identity back, I was a boxer guy again. And Finn had a dog to grow up with, a dog I could trust because I had learned to trust the breed so much. 

And over the years I leaned in on Hilda, or Bilda as Finn called her, as she did take up a large part of my mental space. One of my favorite games was taking children's songs and replacing the words with her name (twinkle twinkle little Bilda) much to Finn's delight (and Lindsey's dismay). Her name was just kinda stuck in my mouth most days (still to this day), and one time Lindsey even said it seemed like she was an "important part of my identity" which was the truth. Boxers were, and Hilda is the top boxer in my life now. 

Heck Lindsey even tried to sell me on River with the notion that she was just "a little boxer" which was not at all the case. But Hilda had really worked out as a dog for Finn, and I felt like she did a great job of carrying forth that legacy. I remember when I would take him walking at the park my favorite trick to keep three year old Finn on the trail with me was to let him walk Hilda, as her gentle tug would require all his concentration to follow behind but if he let go she wouldn't go further than an arms length from me no matter what anyway. She was not just a boxer, but she was the most obedient boxer I ever had which was amazing when dealing with a young boy who was finding his own independence and often wouldn't listen. 

When I was getting ready to move out the assumption was from the start I would take Hilda with me. She liked me best, she hated the new floors Lindsey put in the house, and River was always setup to be "Lindsey's dog." But to me the concept of leaving behind any dog in my life was the second worse part of getting divorced, behind not having Finn in my life every day. I spent a good part of 2024 "saying goodbye to River" by cuddling her whenever I could and taking her for walks. I was genuinely getting sad about the prospect as the year got close to the end and I knew I had to make my move. 

River was very important to me as well, in fact I had fought for River to not get rehomed in 2023. Lindsey had gotten tired of how destructive puppy River had been, and even tried to sell me on the concept by saying if we let her go we could get another boxer in her place. But after she proposed that concept to me I had a rare dream that I really remembered. In the dream I agreed to rehome River and regretted it, and found myself trying to find her months later to undo it. In the dream I had stumbled into a Taken-like nightmare as I went from crappy place to crappy place chasing down leads trying to find the poor dog I abandoned without success. When I woke up I determined I couldn't do it, River was family and I couldn't leave behind family. 

At first Lindsey was disappointed I wouldn't let River go, but by 2024 she had come around to her again and seemed ok with River being the dog that stayed behind. But during 2024 I began to worry about what taking Hilda would mean for me- I would need a bigger place with a bigger dog, I was scared a bigger dog might be intimidating for any women I would meet, and frankly my favorite thing in the world is cuddling dogs and in the months of saying goodbye to River I discovered she was the most cuddly dog we have ever had. I even told Lindsey "its too bad, I feel like if I got to stay with River she would end up my favorite dog of all time." But Hilda was Finn's favorite dog and I wanted that in my corner after the divorce, and I wanted to be active and go hiking and I figured a bigger dog would be better for that. So I stuck to the plan to take Hilda, plus Hilda liked me best anyway.  

In fact Hilda went with me on a big trip back to Odessa for Thanksgiving that year to see my parents, the first time I had really done a trip like that alone. It was a preview of my new life I thought, and I appreciated the one on one time I got with the dog I called my favorite living animal. It reminded me of a trip I had taken with just me and Xena about ten years earlier, and the continuity felt really comfortable when I was about to take a big new leap in my life. Hilda was my rock, the girl I could count on. 

When I went hunting for places to live I initially thought it was going to be an apartment in town. My priority was to stay close to the old house, so I could handle the logistics of therapy and eventually school easily. Finn was sold on that concept, he starting building apartments at therapy out of magnatiles and later got upset with me when it didn't turn out that way. But because of the crash of rental prices in Leander in late 2024 I could get a house very close to Lindsey's house for about what an apartment rented for and it didn't make any sense to do anything else. But the house had one big stipulation- I couldn't have a dog bigger than 25 pounds on the lease. Suddenly I had to choose, house or Hilda? And when Lindsey didn't fight me taking River instead (because she immediately hatched a plan to replace her with a different Boston Terrier) I had to let Hilda go. 

After months of saying goodbye to River, all of a sudden I was saying goodbye to a piece of my identity. I will never forget the night before I got the keys to my house laying in the bed and cuddling Hilda and just crying, telling her how sorry I was that I was leaving her. All of Christmas 2024 was colored by the fact that I was on my own without Hilda, and even though I appreciated River being around my identity felt shattered- I was still sticking Hilda's name into songs and singing "Baby Don't Forget My Number" with Finn which was Hilda's theme song. I even got it on vinyl. 

Luckily Lindsey hasn't fought me taking Hilda over to my place sometimes, and every time I do she gets very happy. She acts like I rescued her all over again, and she sticks closer to me or sleeps closer to me than she ever did when we all lived in the same house together. It gets to the point where River is pretty relieved when Hilda is gone to get her spot in the bed back, and when I drop off Hilda she acts like something terrible is happening to her. 

My identity of a boxer guy stuck with me despite losing Hilda, I put on my dating profile I had "boxer energy" and in the back of my head I kept making plans for some future where I could have Hilda again. But over the year it became clear that River was the right choice. My house is small, and every time Hilda would visit it would feel cramped. Plus River ended up being a great trail dog, and I appreciated how much she was willing to cuddle with me any time of day when I ended up on a crazy schedule trying to get Finn back and forth to school and therapy mid year. Eventually my identity as a boxer guy faded, even if I still miss Hilda very much on a daily basis. 

For Hilda I think it worked out too. It always made me feel better having her there at the old house protecting it after I left. Plus when Lindsey got the new Boston Terrier Hilda showed it a patience that River never would have done. Hilda ended up getting a half-boxer buddy to play with when Lindsey got a girlfriend, and I know Hilda enjoys getting to lay all over that furniture Lindsey has in her place. She has remained Finn's favorite dog (as River has moved down the list for "being smelly") and it makes me feel good knowing the original goal of getting her- having a dog for Finn to grow up with- never waivered. 

Yet it is clear that Lindsey has moved on from River. One day when she watched her for me and River made a mess on her couch Lindsey was ready to wipe her hands of the dog. When I reflect on having River I feel grateful having a dog in her prime in good health when I watch a situation like Adam's where he just had to let go of his pre-marriage dog due to old age. Having a puppy in my current life would be hard. River also works well in situations Hilda wouldn't- like being around other dogs who are more aggressive or not taking a lot of space in my car when its loaded up to go somewhere. I really feel like things worked out for me, even if it wasn't the plan. 

A few weeks ago I went camping at Colorado Bend Park just me and River, and the morning after I wanted to go hiking but I didn't know how far I could push the dog. I decided to take a risk and do the most challenging trail, one full of rocks and tight spots. To her credit River made it the whole way there and back pretty easily, she jumped up rocks like a mountain goat and took on the small spaces with ease. I remember thinking right before the hike was done that I would look back and really appreciate the time I have gotten with her in the last year, and the fact that even at 43 years old I could change my identity and still be positive about my (and her) future.