dog family

These are my kids, past and present. The timeline is from December 1976 to the present day. That's twelve dogs and one cat over 32 years. Check back from time to time. Chances are good we'll add to our family before too long.

Joey was our first dog as a family. She was my best friend. Joey died tragically by what the vet diagnosed as gastric torsion when she was only five years old. This is a malady that occurs mostly in big dogs, but Joey was only 35 pounds. I grieved terribly for three months until one day when I passed by the local university on my way to visit Joey at the pet cemetery. I credit Joey for sending me back to school to finish my degree.

Czarina lived up to her name. She was regal, fussy and a real drama queen, but she proclaimed herself the head of a pack (of five dogs) and ruled with an iron paw. We had a houseful of dogs that hated cats. It was Czar who allowed Kitty to join the family. (See Kitty's story below.)

Czar died of a stroke when she was very old. We had to put her to sleep because she would no longer eat or drink.

Obi Wan came along when Star Wars made its debut. Yes, we were nerds, but he loved us anyway. Obi was one of the most perfect Samoyeds we had ever seen. He was magnificent. Little did we know he harbored a genetic defect that produced a fatal liver dysfunction when he was only three years old. The vet told us he would die by the next day, but he held on for a whole week. Greg and I took turns staying with him 24 hours a day so he would never be alone. He was a trooper to the end.

Temujin, otherwise known as Mooch. Temujin is the boyhood name of Ghengis Khan.

For Temujin, the sun rose and set over Greg. They were inseparable. One day when he was very old, I knew something was wrong. Mooch was dying. I called Greg at work and told him to come home, but he was in a bind and couldn't leave until his 12 hour shift was over. Our brave boy hung on until late that night. He refused to die until his dad came home. He died in Greg's arms, in peace.

Chief was a throwaway dog and Temujin's blood brother. The people who bought him returned him to the sellers and the sellers contacted us to see if we would take him for free. We weren't going to do it until we drove by the people's home and saw him in the yard. He was a mess, full of matted hair. Soft-hearted fools that we were, we took him.

Chief survived a terrible house fire and lived to a ripe old age. He was a wily dog, and an expert fence jumper. We never could stop him from jumping, but at least we neutered him to save us from paternity suits. He was a real lady's man.

Willie wasn't supposed to stay with us. I found her wandering the university that I attended. A bad storm was coming and the school would be a ghost town that weekend so I took her home. Greg in his usual soft-hearted self let me keep her. Willie had an enormous appetite and a heck of a metabolism. She never got fat. She died a tragic death. (See Sheba 's story.)

Sheba was another foundling. She was a puppy who was hiding in front of our van's big tire. Had Greg not noticed her, she might have been killed. He dragged her out and brought her to me. Poor Sheba was always terrified of everything, but she was a loyal dog and was adamant about not getting into mischief.

Horribly, she and Willie died in a house fire toward the end of their lives. A lot of things changed after that. When we rebuilt, Greg personally redesigned the house to be nearly fireproof. We also had doggy doors installed so the dogs would always have a way out. I still grieve for my babies. It was a horrible way to die. The vet assured me they died of asphyxiation and never knew what happened. They lost consciousness and never woke up.

Wolf was a rescue. He belonged to a very old man who could no longer take care of him. Wolf too acted like an old man. He loved us, but he was so cantankerous with the other dogs and cat. The only one he respected was Isis but that was no surprise. (See Isis 's story.) Wolf was already an older dog when he joined our family. We gave him a good five years chasing squirrels and playing fetch on our acreage. Chelly was notorious for "herding" him. LOL.

Kitty was our resident cat-dog, or COG. He was a cat, but he acted just like the dogs. He was only a kitten when he found us. Greg kept shooing him away. He had had a bad experience with cats when he was a kid. A neighborhood cat had eaten his guinea pig, so he wasn't about to welcome a cat to our home.

Well, Kitty was a determined little beast and refused to go away. Every day he came back. Finally, we were expecting a bad ice storm and I refused to let Greg shoo him off. We made him a little bed on the enclosed porch and he stayed nice and warm. The dogs, sensing their dad's distrust of this little creature were anxious to give him a run for his money. Kitty stayed long after the storm and I knew it was time to find him a home. But I made a deal with Greg. I asked him if we could keep him if the dogs accepted him. He agreed, knowing full well the dogs hated cats.

But I knew Czar's temperament all too well. She was the matriarch of the pack and she loved to mother little animals. I played a hunch and introduced her to Kitty. Kitty, all two pounds of him, walked up to Czar who was lying with her front paws crossed in front of her. Kitty gingerly crawled into the pocket of her crossed legs and promptly took a nap.

Czar sniffed him and then laid her head down and went for a snooze too. The case was settled. Czar had accepted the newest member of the family and no other dog was allowed to countermand her.

Kitty lived to be 19 years old. He too, had been caught in our house fire, and was unconscious when we found him. He revived as soon as we brought him out to fresh air. Ironically, the man who hated cats ended up with a constant companion. Kitty LOVED Greg and they could often be found napping on the couch together.

Isis. I could talk forever about Isis. After Chief died, the house was empty for a while. He was the last of the old pack, except for Kitty. The house was uncomfortably quiet and we knew we had to get another dog. Greg decided to try a different breed. A rottweiler.

I had my reservations after hearing so many horror stories, but Isis blew them all out of the water.

Isis was a back alley dog. The breeder was unscrupulous. We never got her papers. But what Isis lacked in pedigree she made up for in personality. At six weeks old she marched up to Greg and sniffed his shoe. "Suckers," she said. "You will be my minions for life." She was right!

That little dog taught me more about life than anyone else I had ever met before or since. Isis didn't watch the parade. She WAS the parade. She was charming, lovable, charismatic and beguiling. She never met a cookie she didn't like and once you were a friend, you were a friend for life.

She was a trooper too. Isis came down with cancer when she was nine years old. We were devastated but we moved heaven and earth to find the best treatment for her. We beat cancer—twice. She was twelve years old when a worse fate intervened. Her hips gave out. The dysplasia was so bad she could not longer walk. We were forced to put her to sleep. Isis was way too young. She had so much life yet to live, but her body betrayed her.

To this day, we talk about Isis as if she were still alive. Her spirit is always with us.

Nacho was another dog who saw Greg as a god. She was a stoic dog who only knew duty. The exact opposite of Isis , Nacho never took a day off. She felt it her obligation to always be on alert, to protect and defend. Nacho didn't trust anyone except me and Greg. She had a clever way of quietly putting herself between us and any visitor, just in case that visitor tried anything funny.

No matter how hard we tried, Nacho never relaxed. She died of old age, confident that she had done her duty to those she loved.

Chelly died in 2008 so this bio is harder to write than the others. She would've been 15 this year. I rescued Chel out of the grimy hands of a fat little kid who was pulling her fur. The moment I took her, we imprinted on one another.

Chelly was shy, quiet and nervous, but all that disappeared when there were animals to herd. Chelly loved to run, and true to her breed, would shepherd any animal regardless of its size into a nice tightly packed circle. Chel died in my arms and part of me went with her. Like Joey, our first dog, Chelly was my best friend. I still grieve for her.

Tank is our only child right now. He has the joie de vivre of Isis and the protective nature of Nacho. We got Tank from a rescue group, which is where he got his name. After meeting him, we had no choice but to keep that name. He's huge! People trip over themselves to get out of the way when we pass by. Even though he looks intimidating, he's quite gentle. For some reason he's latched on to me specifically. Tank will do anything for me and is immensely protective. I have never felt safer. LOL!

Tank loved Chelly and I think he misses her too. When I come home from work he races up to me and stands straight up on his hind legs and wraps his front paws around me in a bear hug. This has happened everyday since Chelly's been gone. Maybe soon we'll get him a new sister. We just haven't found her yet.

Greg, my number one guy and all time best friend. We are as different as night and day. He is foundation and I am sky. He is analytical and I am intuition. But something weird happens whenever we get together. He makes me laugh and I drive him crazy. It's a good partnership, one I hope lasts for many more years.

Am I happy? Almost always, yes. I have a loving family, a purpose in life and every so often I get the chance to share my writing. I rarely grumble and I never whine. My philosophy is simple. The barriers in our lives are not obstacles. They're stepping stones. Use them to your advantage. It's the hurdles in our lives that test us. But how we handle adversity defines us.

Not pictured: Temp Dogs: Loki and Nicky. These guys came around when we were unable to keep them permanently. Loki was a little terrier mix who found a wonderful woman who showered him with kisses. Nicky was a Saint Bernard who joined our family when one of Greg's friends threatened to take him to the pound. We had five dogs at that time and couldn't keep Nicky for long. We found him great parents who had a big farm. Nicky lived the life of Riley and died of very old age, content and loved.