For most of the past twenty years we've had two dogs at a time in residence here.
We began with our furry friends when son Jason moved out here to live with Mrs. A and me in 1986; he brought with him Conan, a Golden Retriever/Lab mix. Conan was a great pet but way too big for the Creve Coeur apartment townhouse in which we lived at the time; we began plans to buy a house with a yard. While Jason was on vacation with his Mom in Virginia, and Carroll and I were exploring Montreal, Conan was being kept in the care of our vet.
Conan dreamt big. Know how dogs kick their legs and occasionally bark in their sleep? Multiply that by five or six. Big dogs, big dreams. The overnight attendant at the vet's facility took Conan's dream ramble for a fit, and overdosed him with phenobarbitol. We got the call from the vet late in the night of our return from Canada. Carroll and I were emotionally destroyed, but knowing that Jason was depending on his pet to be there when he came back from Virginia, I knew I had to do something.
I went to the Humane Society on Macklind Avenue and found Maggie, an older, purebred Irish Setter. $25 later (yes, it was a long time ago), Maggie was in my car and on the way home with me. It took a while, but Jason fell in love with her. Unfortunately, the apartment management did not. So I sold my collection of the LP's I had liberated from various radio stations over the years and we bought a house with a yard in Maryland Heights. We were at home, and so was Maggie.
Maggie ran the fences (I still have the VHS cassette) with her next-door pal, Duffy, an older Poodle, and loved her new forever home. Her Poodle-pal eventually passed away and we decided that Maggie needed a new buddy. Shortly after, a friend let me know that she had a Beagle/Lab mix named Winnie who was too much for her to handle. I valiantly offered to adopt her. Winnie and Maggie fought with and barked at eachother constantly; eventually the girls and their new next-door Poodle buddy, Jasmine, became best friends.
Mags and Winnie figured out a brilliant stalk of the yard's squirrels, but only ever managed to catch one, which, of course, they brought promptly down to my office to show me, dropping the dead critter at my feet, jumping and dancing and yelping at their joint victory. That was an exceptional afternoon, believe me!
Winnie's Beagle-part enabled her to jump fences, as if by magic (I watched her climb them paw-over-paw...amazing!), and I spent hundreds of dollars in gas driving through the subdivision finding her to bring Winnie home.
And they stayed best friends until the horrible Sunday morning that I went downstairs and found Winnie standing vigil over Maggie's lifeless body. Mags was older, had some health issues, and had just worn out.
A few days later, I brought Lucy, a German Shepard/Yellow Lab mix, home from the MH Humane Society and she and Winnie fell right into the two-dog dance.
Their next-door pal Jasmine passed of old age-caused infirmities and our neighbors eventually dogged-up again, with another little poodle, Ella. Named for Ella Fitzgerald, Ella quickly became a well-loved part of our human-canine "pack."
Winnie lost her battle with cancer in 2000 and the newest guy in the family, BoyDog, joined us as Lucy's new buddy. Boy was 7 when he came to us, from the MH Humane Society; Lucy never really accepted him. She tolerated him, though, and he was a good soldier about it. Yes, Lucy was a chauvinist! I spent a lot of time petting and rubbing two dogs at the same time to avoid domestic canine disruption. Mrs. A was very understanding about it all.
Somewhere along the way, son Jason adopted a dog of his own, a medium-sized little love bunny he cryptically named Ruca and who made our home her "vacation place" starting when she was just eight weeks old. Ruca always got along with Lucy and BoyDog. Lucy more, BoyDog less, but I just thought of that as a gender issue. Ruca loves Pop-pop's yard, she does. And we continue to keep her here when Jason goes out of town.
BoyDog was also a runner. In July 2006, on an incredibly hot day, our lawn guy left the fence gate open and both BoyDog and Lucy took off. I reacted without thinking. I was in my bare feet and wearing just a bathrobe when I took off in our Chevy S-10 to track them down. Lucy never went beyond the next-door porch in her wanderings, but I drove for miles to find BoyDog. I eventually got them both back in the house at the cost of 2nd degree burns on the bottom of my feet, which subsequently required major leg arterial surgery and four months of immobility and rehab.
It was enormously painful and bothersome, but I never regretted a bit of it. It was for the dogs, fer goodness sake! I'm sure the medical insurance company felt differently, but they wrote the checks for most of the cost. I guess they had to have a harrumph somewhere along the way, dog hating bastards that they must be.
2007 was a rough year for this generation of the Anderson dogs. Lucy, 11, who was known as "The Dog You Can See From Outer Space" because of her size (130+ pounds; remember she was a Shephard/Yellow Lab mix, and they blow up real big) completely lost her mobility in April and had to be put to rest. BoyDog, 14, went to sleep for the last time on 8 September. My thanks to our dear friend Dr. Chris Rolf for his assistance in making their passages comfortable.
Lucy's and BoyDog's ashes will be spread in their yard in the first significant snowfall of Winter 2007, joining Winnie's.
Suddenly we were a multiple-dog home without any dogs at all. That brings us to Tasha.
I started a search on the day before my 59th birthday, 12 September 2007, at the MH Humane Society. I "interviewed" four dogs, no joy; each had pecularities or problems that would preclude them from adoption into our home.
The next day, Carroll and I went out to the Boone's Crossing Humane Society location. We chose a candidate and had her brought to our meeting room; again, no joy. We went out again to the gallery. We saw Tasha, a 2 1/2 year old Australian Cattle Dog.
Amazingly, our sixth candidate for adoption this time around became the sixth dog we'd adopted over the years. Tasha's mostly an Australian Cattle Dog, descended from the Australian feral dog, the Dingo and several other breeds. Here's a photo of a Dingo, and it looks very much like Tasha:
Her breed's also known as a "Red Heeler" (so named for the color of her coat and the way she motivates her herd, by nipping at their heels) and Tasha turned out to be the The One. We knew it as soon as she jumped onto the bench and used her snout to get our arm around her for a hug and a rub. Love bunny alert!
Tasha's cool, a great pet, smart as a whip, wonderfully loving and, as I write, asleep behind my chair. She enjoys her time on our furniture. Tasha goes from 0-60 in the yard in, well, maybe no seconds; I pity the squirrels. Maybe that's why we haven't seen any lately.
And she doesn't bark. Just like Dingoes, Australian Cattle Dogs don't bark. It's the weirdest thing. She just yelps LOUDLY when we put her in the "crate" when we leave the house; Tasha hates to be alone (which is why we have to crate her when we go out and leave her by herself...she'd probably eat the couch). She's also a "door-dasher" and a "counter-surfer," and has a few other bad habits which I'm certain we'll be able to resolve. Eventually her bodily functions will sync up with our household times. Good thing we own a carpet cleaner.
I'll be spending a lot of time working with Tasha, I think. I like that idea a lot. She's gotta go out now, do her business and run aimlessly at light speed around the yard for a half-hour. I'll keep a frisbee handy, just to give her something to do. Maybe someday she'll even manage to catch it and bring it back to me.
Wish me luck with Adopted Dog #6, otherwise known as Tasha.
Dogs=cool. Updates will be posted below as events warrant.
Mike
Update: Tuesday, 18 September 2007:
The initial meeting between Tasha and Ruca did not go well. I think calling it a disaster would be significant under-reporting. After a tentative period of sniffing and checking eachother out, Ruca went on the offensive, barking, snarling and showing her teeth; Tasha responded by showing her teeth and even making as close to a barking sound as she can...more like an amplified growl. Even with a fence between them, there was considerable antagonism. We'll try it again, in a neutral location.
A little later in the afternoon, I watched Tasha go into full, instinctive herding mode when she noted the presence of Ozzie (a large Black Lab) in the yard behind us. Because of Ozzie's size, she probably viewed him as cattle. Just like the Australian Shepherds you might have seen work in the movie Babe, Tasha dropped to the ground and then gradually moved about fifteen feet from a low crawl to a fully-erect stance, and then sat directly in front of him at the fence, her head lowered, observing Ozzie and everything around him. She was clearly prepared to "motivate" him to move at her direction but gave up and walked away from the fence when she realized he was on a leash. This was an amazing thing to watch, a truly beautiful display of instinct and inbred duty.
I almost feel like we should have a few sheep in the back yard, just so Tasha can fulfill her destiny! Mrs. A has said NO to that, and very emphatically. Besides, the Humane Society doesn't offer sheep for adoption.
Update: Monday, 17 September 2007:
Tasha is a little confused, having realized that there are both an Alpha Male and Female in residence here. But when the opportunity presents itself, she has begun to defer to me. Since I'll be the primary caretaker, that's good news. Still, Tasha gives Mrs. A many, many doggie props. Smart move. She (Tasha, not Mrs. A) has finally begun eating regularly but is still a little late occasionally to warn us when she (Tasha, not Mrs. A) needs to go out. Tasha has begun coming right back to the door once she's taken care of business outside. That's also good news.
And this afternoon she meets Ruca for the first time. It's important that the meeting go well, because Ruca will be staying here for a few days at the end of September. The first time around will begin on leashes, just in case. Ruca's been a weekly visitor and occasional boarder here since she was eight weeks old (she's now six) and has developed a fairly strong territorial imperative in the yard.
Update: Sunday, 16 September 2007:
Tasha out at 8:30AM:She met up with Ozzie (a LARGE Black Lab) at the back fence and with Ella(a SMALL black Poodle) at the side fence: both dogs barked loudly. Tasha Dingo-yipped and faced off both dogs by squatting as she would when trying to block herd movement. Neighbor dogs were confused; the Lab continued to bark. Tasha ran the fences with both and eventually ran back into the house through the door I had left open. Maybe we'll have to get her a small goat herd to work with. Or a chess set.
