Introverts United

My dog is an introvert.
Just like me.

I never thought dogs — especially Golden Retrievers — could be introverts.
Aren’t they supposed to be social butterflies with fur?

But Bruno?
He avoids other dogs.
When we’re out walking — surrounded by a chaos of wagging tails and sniffing noses — he walks past them all...
And heads straight to their humans.

Me?
I hang around the dogs.

Before he got neutered, he had this... awkward habit of humping female dog owners.
That’s the one clear difference between us — I’m not neutered.

Bruno came to us like many COVID dogs did.
We were classic candidates:
Single-child parents. Dog-loving friends.
Empty WhatsApp groups suddenly bursting with puppy pics.

All it took was my wife saying “maybe,” and me spotting this photo — a nine-month-old golden boy, calmly looking out the window…
Like he was listening to birds sing.

Seven days later, he was home.
From “we’ll think about it” to “he’s ours” — in record time.

We went through the full rollercoaster:
Excitement.
Overwhelm.
Guilt.

Especially when his previous family came to visit.

He went wild with love — licked the girls, hugged the father.
Not a hump in sight.
Just pure, heartbreaking love.

And for the next five days, he sulked.

We tried everything.
Long walks. Belly rubs. Doggie treats.
But he was grieving.

Over time, things changed.

He did what my wife couldn’t do in 17 years — got me out of bed at 5:30 every morning.

We were moderately active before him.
Now we hike the tekdi behind our home every single day.
We plan vacations around him.

Still, for the longest time, we felt like his caregivers.
Not his family.

But Bruno?
He transformed us.

I used to think all dogs looked the same.
Now I know:

Bambi — the indie who skips up the hill like a deer.
Skye — the beagle who must play with every living creature.
Tara — the gentlest German Shepherd in the world.

I forget people’s names five minutes into a conversation...
But dogs?
I remember their stories.

Bruno has changed too.
From timid and obedient…
To a full-blown teenager.

He understands everything.
But only does what suits him.

In many ways, he reminds me of my dad.
Strong.
Calm.
Fiercely independent.

Dad passed away a few years ago, after a long illness.
Hospitals. Needles. Tubes.
But he bore it all with a smile — cracking jokes to make the nurses feel less guilty.

Bruno’s had his share too.
Surgeries on both eyes.
Multiple vet visits.
Anesthesia. Probes. Injections.

But he just sits quietly.
Lets them do what they need to.
Then greets them with the mandatory hump — and a wild tail wag — like they’re long-lost friends.

He’s still an introvert.
But he’s helped me open up.
With him, I’m a little more comfortable.
A little more me.

Recently, we had to leave him for a few days.
I was nervous when we went to pick him up.
How would he react?

He looked at me.
Walked over.
And hugged me.

No humping. No zoomies.
Just sheer love.

That’s when I knew —
We’re no longer just his caregivers.
We’re his pack.