A clunky, careful dog

Sensi might have been the only one in the litter to receive so many traits from the Labrador’s genes. We’ve seen at least one of his siblings full-grown, and there’s no hint of lab in her appearance.
But it’s undeniable with Sensi. He has a broad chest, like a pit bull, but it’s extra deep too, like a lab. His heavy chest runs all the way down to his belly, and it’s always created a balance problem for him.
Basically, my dog has a very large front-end but a relatively small rear-end. He’s extremely top heavy.
This means he doesn’t jump. He’s very uncomfortable on his hind legs. He’s laughably uncoordinated, though I prefer to call him, “clunky.”
Clunky best describes my dog when he runs. It’s a real sight to see. At 90 pounds, he thunders around and the floor shakes. His gait is reminiscent of a horse’s — and not a thoroughbred’s. It’s more like a Clydesdale, without the graceful appearance.
But clunky should not be confused with clumsy. If there is one thing my dog is NOT, it’s clumsy.
He is so careful that it’s downright uncanny.
I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but I think it started with his tail.
Since we got him while we were still so young, it shouldn’t be a surprise that in my husband’s first house, shared with an equally young roommate, there were plenty of beer bottles and pop cans precariously balanced on coffee tables.
Sensi and his giant whip-like tail would take one swing and send all of them flying.
I would gasp in horror — this is Sensi’s greatest indicator that he’s done something bad — and we’d run for paper towels.
Sensi, meanwhile, would slink away and lay down. We’d tell him, “Bad dog,” while we cleaned up the stinky spilled beer and pop.
In what seemed like just a couple months, Sensi developed an acute awareness of his tail when around furniture. He doesn’t stop wagging it, but he’ll let it wag all the way to the left and then stop it short of the right so as to not hit the table.
His careful manner soon applied to everything. He doesn’t step on anything on the floor that’s not his. He won’t get up on the couch if there’s not a open space for him — even a remote control will prevent him from climbing up.
I’m not sure how this all came to be, but Brent and I are constantly lavishing him with praise for his careful mannerisms.
I doubt we’ll ever again be blessed with such a clunky but careful dog.