Attention prospective dog owners! When selecting a furry companion to join your midst it is not only important to select a breed conducive to your surroundings and lifestyle, but to consider the manner of the specific animal which wags, wiggles and pants before you. To mix and mangle a couple of standard metaphors “Never judge a dog by its color.”
During the late nineties, my wife Janet and I became enthralled with a somewhat overlooked breed of hound used mostly for hunting. The object of our desire, the American Black and Tan Coonhound, are beautiful, sleek canines, known for its baleful howl and keen tracking skills. Other than stalking an occasional parking spot at Olive Garden, neither Janet nor I hunt, yet we found a Coonhound breeder north of Roanoke and purchased a splendid pup.
Janet is a fan of Margaret Mitchell’s story of the old south “Gone with the Wind,” and, previous to our meeting, began to name dogs after Mitchell’s characters. Ashley, Rhett and Scarlett were already taken and choosing to forgo Melanie, Prissy and Pitty-Pat, we decided on Tara, in homage the esteemed O’Hara homestead. Tara was a graceful, intelligent, fearless and athletic creature that carried every trait and instinct passed down from her ancestors. Sadly, Tara went on to the great hunt in the sky a few years ago, leaving us with a Coonhound vacancy.
Rarely do we consider regenerating the pack too quickly as the departed could never really be replaced, however, six months later we were on the trail of another Black and Tan. Traveling south to Wytheville, we met up with a breeder carrying two dogs in the back of his pick-up. The first was a strapping young female, the other, a frightened, shivering pup that would not come out of her wooden travel box. For Janet, it was love at first sight. A champion of the underdog and a sucker for lost causes (she chose me didn’t she?) Janet cradled the cowering little hound and claimed her as her own.
Fresh out of “Gone with the Wind” characters, we named our newest addition “Mya” and the pack was back at full strength. Several months passed and we began to notice some oddities about our new hound. Although she was nearly one year’s old, Mya was still puppy sized. Could she be miniature Coonhound? Aside from her slight stature, everything seemed to spook poor Mya, especially tall men. Most of our son Will’s friends stand well over six feet tall and their entrance into the home often resulted in a hasty retreat by Mya, a trail of pee splashing down the hallway in her wake. Mya’s psychosis reached its pinnacle when she emptied her bladder on Will’s new sneakers as his friend Dustin attempted to pet her.
Few visitors get to see the fun side of Mya, as their mere presence causes her to recoil and bolt up the stairs upon their arrival. In play mode, my favorite Mya maneuver is when she ambushes Janet when she is cutting the lawn, sneaking up on her beloved mommy and biting her on the backside. Between you and I. it took me nearly a month to teach Mya that trick, however, seeing Janet’s reaction is always worth the extra effort.
Like many of our female dogs of the past, Mya is in love with Shiloh, our blind, diabetic, beagle mutt. I am not sure why Shiloh has such a strong effect on the fairer sex, but I would be willing to put on his collar and run around the house to find out. Shiloh, a former shelter dog, was once a nervous little pooch with a nasty disposition. Fighting immediately with the incumbent pack despite his lack of size, we began calling him “Weenie” because of his jerky nature.
In fact, Shiloh answers to Shiloh, Weenie, Shi-Weenie, The Ween, and on October 31st, Shiloween. Shiloh’s proudest moments come when he unleashes one of his signature room-cleaning, toxic gas clouds which are more akin to an atmospheric anomaly than a passing fume. In fact we have named these wretched salvos “El Weenjo.” Following such a blast, Shiloh cleverly has his pick of comfortable seating during the subsequent evacuation. Funny how the shelter never seems to include “unholy, life altering flatulence” on that little white description card taped to the cage.
Deciding on a pet is always a crap shoot and I implore you to look closely when making your selection. In the meantime, I am considering the purchase of a HAZMAT suit so I might weather Shiloh’s storms in relative comfort, with the consideration that Mya may think that I am some kind of costumed villain sent to earth to void her body of excess fluids. Either way, at least Lysol’s stock holders will be pleased.
By Jon Kaufman [email protected]
