I have heard many times that phrase "just a dog" and it offends me every time.
I have had a handful of dogs in my day and followed no breed loyalty. I let them choose me.
Loyal dog #1 was beige colored teacup Poodle mix thing named Taz. Cutest little thing you ever saw. Mom and Dads Poodle got friendly with my Brothers Cockapoo and the result was Taz. That little dog went everywhere with me. She liked best to ride in an inside coat pocket where she could snuggle down and keep warm. When she was about 2 she dislocated her front paw from the leg. That required a flying trip to the vet on a Sunday. I had her 4 or 5 years when I learned my Grandma was horribly lonely and not doing well. Maybe something to look after would help her? Taz lived out her days in Wyoming being spoiled by an old Lady who doted on her. Rhinestone collars and the whole shebang. Lucky little dog.
Loyal dog #2 was a German Shepard bitch I called Kisses. Rescued from the pound in a southern Nebraska town at 6 months old, all she did the whole ride home was kiss. Everybody she could reach got the blessing. I entertained the fact that she was just so happy to be out of that filthy little wire kennel kissing was the safest way she knew to say thank you. She was by far the smartest dog I have had so far. Show her something once maybe twice and she had it down. One night I convinced a wayward group of skinny dipping teens she was a police dog. She growled in all the right places and the teens decided not to question our authority. They left and we went back to camping in the refound quiet. I lived in a place once that the bathroom door would swung shut of it's own accord. Very useful if you have kids but not so when the little dog goes in to drink from the toilet and gets stranded. I trained Kisses to "get the door" in which she would amble down the hallway and push the door open with her nose. The little dog would come out and all would be well until next time. She was about 2 when I gave her to a man who trains dogs for the police department. I lived in a trailer after all and she grew into a pretty big dog. Last information I received on her was that she had served the Columbus Nebraska Police Department and was living out her retirement with the same officer she served along side.
Loyal dog #3 was a rat terrier named Princess. I answered an ad in a weekly publication about Rat Terrier puppies. "Farm raised", "Loving family", and "High quality blood lines" were in bold print in the ad. What I found were bitches in cages, a sire way past his prime and too many puppies to count in a space way too small. I was seeing first hand the horrors of a puppy mill. As I looked at the pups wondering what to do I spotted her. Sat way in the back, her nose in the air, passed over too many times to be hopeful. She was a runt from one of the previous litters and the "loving family" were planning to use her to breed. I gave the woman my $60 and picked her up. As she curled into a tiny ball in my hand, I snuggled her down in Taz's once favorite inside coat pocket and we went home. The very next morning I called the authorities and by the end of the week that dirty, rotten, nasty, smelly place was devoid of dogs. With the exception of the too old sire of whom they had to neuter in order to keep. Princess grew into a fine specimen of Rat Terrier despite being the runt. Powered by high protein ALPO she surpassed the Vets dire prognosis of being tiny and skinny. Filling out to nearly 20 lbs and 18 inches tall she happily followed me through life without a care in the world. She never wondered what we were doing or where we were going just as long as she could go too. She would ride with me on road trips with my job, in the John Deere combine with yet another job, got me through one divorce and 3 boyfriends, then eventually chose my forever husband. Princess was my side kick for more than a decade. Living out nearly 14 full years. Never bit a single person, and was even good with the kids. In the end the Diabetes stole her sight, stiffened her muscles, and just drug her down. Age crept up on us slowly then BAM was in our face. I held her until the end. Telling her what a good dog she was. Seeing her take her last breath and feeling the thump of the last beat....*sigh*. We took her ashes home and spread them in her favorite romping spot. That'll do Princess, That'll do.
Loyal dogs #4 and #5 are classic black and white Border Collies and boy do they liven things up around here. We had adopted the pair from a working dog rescue. Half brothers brought from New Mexico hoping for a new life in cattle country. The kid's and I went to visit them in Ft Collins and I saw my Tucker for the first time. I knew he was my dog even before he saw me. When we made eye contact he walked straight to me, through a room full of people and dogs, put his head on my knee and gave me "the look". You know the one. That look that just melts your heart. That was it, we had connected. They were a packaged deal so I arranged to bring them home. Almost as quick as I had connected with Tucker, Jack bonded with the husband. It was clear from day one who's person was who's. Going from one small, old, not so high maintenance, kind of dog to two high energy very young border collies really opens your doggie eyes. What was old hat to Princess was new and exciting to these additions. Cats being the first hurdle...chickens being the second. We had the Collies a grand total of a month when last May Jack came up missing from the back of the truck. Scouring the roadside we find him crumpled in a pile in the ditch. He was just coming to so we wrapped him in a blanket to fend off shock and loaded him up in the car. The brave brave boy didn't even whimper once in the hour ride to the Vet. A few days later we brought him home with only the addition of a newly plated femur. Healing of the bone went as smoothly as we could have hoped for and few days ago Jack went back into the Vet a second time to have the plate removed. It had started to hurt him and we learned it was interfering with tendon function. Grand Vet total.....$2000 smackaroos. It's a good thing he's a smart dog or I might have packed it in with him.Our Jack remembers things. Like that nurse that stabbed him with that sharp thing last time? Nope not going to get near him with it again he says with the low rumble. Bring out the muzzle and the growl comes once more, deeper this time and more from the diaphragm. She hands the muzzle to me and I try to explain to Jack the situation. He's a pretty smart dog and I'm sure he gets my drift. He gives me the "do I have too" look but sits silently still while I put on the muzzle. I took it off as soon as Doc would let me just as I promised poor Jack I would. Like I said, he remembers. Tucker, who had been patiently sitting in the corner hoping none of this would happen to him, came over and gave Jack a little lick on the muzzle. The dogs locked eyes for a sec and I could see the silent communication between the brothers. It's like Tucker was saying "It's OK Jack, You'll be OK, I'm here for you dude". Jack blinked once then laid his head back down to drift off to sleep. Tucker returned to his corner and continued to try and be as invisible as possible, still hoping this wasn't his fate as well. After all those times Jack has tattled on Tucker for being naughty, attacked him ruthlessly trying to entice him into a fight, and Tucker is still there on his team rooting for him.
There are obviously stories I have missed and will remember in the dead of night. The sticker patch incident, the chewed up sandal fiasco, and for goodness sake don't even mention shoes. Those memories are mine to protect. To cherish and covet. To have and to hold close to my heart. To bring out when I need to be strong, for when that steady beat thumps it's last yet again.
It's never "just a dog"
Barb
