A week ago I took a quick trip to Michigan to see an old friend. This weekend, a different Michigan friend stopped by on his way home from a trip to Deal's Gap and the Blue Ridge Parkway. Our various dogs came up while talking with both friends, albeit briefly.
This led me to want to immortalize all my dogs here. I have previously said I could write my autobiography based on my dogs, when I had them, their timelines. Since it is doubtful I will ever have a need to write an autobiography, I trade on this exercise.
I bought my first house when I was in college. I was looking at what I was paying in rent and saying, 'this is crazy.' As long as I don't mind living in the not-so-good part of town, I can own a house for a lot less than rent. I bought a very old house in a quiet blue collar section of town.
Shortly after moving in, I really wanted to get a dog. It had to be a beagle. Having just moved in, money was short, and I was somewhat opposed to the idea of "buying" a dog anyway. A friend called the local Humane Society animal shelter and found out they had several beagles available for adoption. I was stunned; what kind of idiot gets rid of a beagle? Other dogs yes, but a beagle?
A few days later I went to the shelter and they did have several beagles. I looked at all the beagles as well as a few other dogs. I had no intention of getting anything but a beagle, but there is nothing wrong with looking at the cherry cheesecake even if you know you are going to get the giant chocolate chip cookie with ice cream and caramel sauce.
The dogs fell pretty cleanly into two groups. On entering the cage, one group tucked the tail between their legs (if it wasn't there already) and scurried to the back of the cage. The other group ran up to me, tongues out of holsters ready to jump and lick, desperate for any attention. I can't imagine what it must be like for these animals. Being in a shelter already suggests life has not been sweetness, but these cacophonous places are animal stress exhibits.
One dog was different. She was sitting in the middle of her cage and on entering, she held her ground, looked at me and gave a low growl. The shelter volunteer started to say something to the effect of, "well, I guess we don't want to look at this one." Before she could finish I said emphatically, "I want this one!"
She exhibited some hound curiosity once she was let out of her cage. After filling out the application, the shelter volunteer, who was a new recruit, gave the application to the supervisor. Immediately, the supervisor said they had a policy against giving dogs to college students. Before I could say anything, the volunteer complained and pointed out I owned a house with a yard and would be a great owner. I was upset, but the volunteer seemed more so. The supervisor relented.
Once I got Mandy home, it was clear she was not house trained. She had beagle obstinance and she was terrified of stairs. It seemed like it took a long time to get her house trained, but in reality it was probably only a couple weeks. Once house trained, she was the alpha dog that helped train subsequent dogs about the evils of eliminating in the house. In short order, she conquered her fear of stairs and followed me everywhere.
Mandy was a source of pure joy. She loved car rides and went everywhere with me. Her pully-dog run was eventually supplanted with a full fenced in yard. She was absolutely, 100% loyal to me, and only to me. Although she was not a a trained hunting dog, she did hunt bunnies with me on occasion. In one hunting adventure, she had kicked up a rabbit or two before running to the back of the field which bordered a pasture containing cows. The cows where right by the fence. When she saw them, she ran up to the fence and howled like a mad dog. She seemed to be saying, "I got the biggest rabbits in the world, shoot now and we're set for life!!!!"
During college, I had an out-of-state internship for one summer. A friend stayed at the house and took care of my dogs. When I got home from New Jersey, glad to be out of that state, Mandy saw me at the gate and went ballistic. My dogs have almost always been glad to see me, but never like this. It was like her life was back where it should be; things were as they should be. There was much joy in beagle-ville.
Mandy would not eat when I first got her; odd for a hound. She got over that quickly. While she was never a chewer, she would eat any food she could get her mouth on. In one example, I received a pizza delivery, put it on the kitchen table and went to talk to my neighbor next door. When I got back, the whole pizza was gone and Mandy was back on the floor with a rock hard belly. She skipped a meal or two for a day after that.
She moved with me to SW Ohio into the horrible little apartment and then into my second house. More dogs joined but Mandy was always alpha. I've hear parents claim they love all their kids equally, but the honest ones admit to favorites. There was no question Mandy was special to me.
She got sick just before the second Christmas in the house. Our usual vet was gone on a trip south to family. A different vet saw her and said she was a very sick dog, but he too was going out of town, referring Mandy to a third vet. That vet kept Mandy overnight, giving her fluids and medicine before releasing her. I made the mistake shortly after that of taking her on a brief Christmas trip to see family. The trip was cut short when Mandy's condition deteriorated. I recall driving home very late at night in terrible black ice conditions to get her back to her usual vet. The next morning, she had past.
I've had several other dogs and I've loved them all, but none like Mandy. I still regret, still feel guilty about that Christmas trip even though I know on an intellectual level that there was likely little that could have been done even if I hadn't taken it. I still miss her today, all these years later.
From that first growl, thanks for being my friend Mandy.
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