It feels weird to be writing what is essentially an up to present-moment history about something you care about. Morbid, in a way that's not easy to quantify - as if you're expecting at any moment for the arrival of the extinguished light. There are memories here of the last year and a half plus that I don't want to forget. Stories, reminisces, anecdotes, about the pet I've come to love, that too easily get lost. So in that spirit, and in the spirit of the arrival of his birthday - though I don't know when his real birthday is - I'm writing a post about him: the Scamper.
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I was watching him the other day at the park and was struck by how much he's changed in the year and a half I've had him. "Had" though is the wrong word. It implies possession, domination over Scamper, and if anything it's the other way around: Scamper has me. That life change, similar in a lot of respects to having kids (well, as long as you respect the kid/ dog, if you completely neglect them and do your own thing, never mind then) impacts ironically the owner more than the owned. He, I'm reasonably sure, doesn't care about the money, or sacrifices on your time. The constant nag of always considering what to do about the dog when you have to make a trip. In a real sense then, both of us have changed quite a bit over the last year. He's adapted to being part of a different pack/ family, and I've had to make changes to the way I live in order to accommodate him.
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I'd been looking for a dog for awhile before scamper came into my life. My gf at the time, Katie, was the one who pushed me hard to get a dog because I'd been talking about it for so long. We went to a few different adoption fares, gawked at the price to adopt one, but generally accepted that it was inevitable that I'd get one at some point. The first one we went to, we both fell in love with a foxhound named Jenny; she came over to us and just leaned into our sides. We looked at the cost though - $350 - and decided against it, though with the understanding that if circumstances changed - more money, bigger place, etc... - that it would be doable. However, Jenny settled for me what kind of dog I wanted; a foxhound. They were affable, energetic, loving, and often simply discarded by hunters when they weren't useful anymore.
A couple of months went by and one of Katie's friends put out a notice on facebook that 6 foxhounds had shown up at her place, all in very bad shape. Apparently the shelters wouldn't accept them because they were in such bad shape, and likely all 6 would be put down. Katie had an interview the next day down that way, and we agreed that she should pick one of the 6 and I'd adopt it. I wanted one of the younger females (because of Jenny really) and so for the next 24 hrs I was on edge. The next day every couple of hours I'd hear about the dogs as one after another were picked up. Soon I was worried that all of them would be taken by the time she got there. Katie called in the evening and said there was one of the younger males left, plus the pregnant mother but that was it. She wanted me to be sure this was what I wanted. I said yes, and she said that her parents were willing to take him for the evening and I could drive down the next morning to pick him up.
His name was decided upon before I had any input in the matter. Katie brought him to her parent's place, and after taking off some absurd number of ticks, given a flea bath, and a fresh bowl of food tried to teach him how to sit. She removed a treat from the bag, told him to sit, and watched as scamper looked at the treat, looked at the bag, and grabbed the bag and ran with it. "OH YOU SCAMPER!" and that was how he got his name.
That first night he apparently he spent howling for his pack mates keeping up everyone until early in the morning when he finally stopped.
I sped down 95 in nervous anticipation the next day, finally arriving at some point mid morning. What I found was a dog that could barely run 10 feet without gasping and nearly collapsing. He'd run a little bit, then walk over to a person and fall into their arms to be held for a little bit. Yet for as bad shape as he was in, there was mirth in his eyes. He wanted to play so bad. He'd chase for 10ft stop for a minute, catch his breath, then chase for another 10ft. Stairs, apparently, were also a new concept to him. He would tentatively go towards them, put one paw to ensure it was stable. Then, satisfied that it was stable enough for his weight, would bound up the rest - legs flailing every which way. Coming down he would repeat this routine and continued to do so for the first few months.---
I brought him home later that day and started going about the process of adjusting the home to him. In the 48 hours between deciding I wanted a dog and the dog actually being in the home, I had read a lot about how to organize the house to the dog. One of the first things I did - after gawking at how expensive pet supplies are - was buy a kennel/crate for him to sleep in at night. That first night I set it up in my room with plenty of ratty towels, blankets, and a couple squeaky toys. Everything I had read said that this was the best way to keep a dog from soiling themselves at night. In theory, the crate connects to a dog's wolf ancestor's propensity to create dens and more importantly to them not wanting to defecate in their dens. We now know that wolves rarely ever create dens, and mostly only if it's a nursing mother. Wolves in the wild will dig a small cavity beneath a tree when they sleep.
I placed him in the kennel, and lay down thinking that the proximity would be helpful for him - with that cold cynicism that says we should attach human feelings to our pets. It wasn't. Almost immedetally he started whining and whimpering. After a few minutes of this I gave up, opened his kennel and let him sleep next to me that night. It seemed to calm him down and he kinda just collapsed from the exhaustion of the last few days. That night we had no issues.
The next day however I was resolved that he would sleep in his kennel. That night I placed the kennel downstairs, covered it in towels and blankets to recreate the "den" atmosphere and got him to go in with treats. I turned off the lights and that's when the whining started, and wouldn't stop for the next hour or so. I knew intuitively that if I gave in at that moment, it would continue to reinforce to scamper that if he acts that way - the whining, pawing at the kennel, etc... So I didn't respond. Of course, in the morning he left me a lovely present and it was the first of many times I'd have to hose off both him and the kennel.
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This was how I found out first hand what expensive vet bills look like. The initial visit unveiled that he was only 30lbs for a dog that should have been around 50, and looked about 20... He didn't have heartworms. But he had had a case of scabies at some point in the recent past that had been treated which meant someone had at least taken care of him. He also had both whipworms and roundworms, both treatable. The vet also advised that we not get him neutered until his weight had come up. $800 later I left with the certain knowledge that the vet business had to be pretty lucrative...
I learned an important lesson though about dogs and the people they look to follow. While in the office I sat down in the little chair next to the exam table. After getting up to shake the vets hand, Scamper jumped up into the chair and sat in it like I had. He had been watching me and more importantly studying me for clues to what he should do.
There are two possible ways to explain this. One, he was engaged in an act of mimicry. This is what I think was going on in the doctors office or in the car. Scamper saw me doing a behavior, and because in his mind him and I are of the same species/ pack, he understands that behavior to be ok. The other explanation has to do with pack behavior. If he views me as the pack leader, and him as the subordinate, and I had made clear that the seat was "mine," then once I left the area that seat was a thing to be desired. Thus I never could catch him sleeping in the chair, though I knew he had been there.
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We've constantly speculated about the life that scamper had pre-me. The cuts on his legs had indicated he'd spent time either being abused or simply on the run. The treated scabies showed that someone had at least put some kind of effort into taking care of him. And we knew just because of his breed + area that he was found in, that Foxhounds were bred to chase things through the woods. Often, hunters will release rather than euthanize or attempt to get adopted, foxhounds whose sense of smell or hunt drive wasn't quite good enough for the pack.
About a month after I got him, I decided that we should do a hike together along with Katie. One of my favorite places is Great North mountain right along the V.A W.VA border. It's a moderately difficult 16 or so mile hike up to the ridge line and then back down again. It was also to serve as kind of a test for her and I since I'm notorious for taking hiking seriously. We start along the trail and it's apparent early on that scamper is focused on the scents and following them. The pulling on the leash is nice at first, but about midway up the mountain - right as rhododendrons close in on the trail - he starts signally and the hair rises on his back. This freaks out Katie - who was already pretty put off by how difficult the climb was - and sends her into a panic. I know from experience that there's probably a black bear out there - what scamper was signalling at - and made the mistake of telling Katie that's what it was. This presaged what would be a recurring theme in our relationship: her over-reacting to stress, me trying to calm her down and getting stressed myself in the process.
We made it up top for a break though and I learned that Scamper really likes cliff bars smothered in peanut butter. Expensive dog.
More important to me at least, was that I learned about his drive to follow scents in exclusion to any cues on my part. It did not matter how hard I pulled back on his leash or forced him to heel, he'd constantly pull if he found a scent. While on the ridgeline we came across a foxhound on a bear hunt. Scamper spent the next 4 miles or so following that dog as it was working it's way back to its own owners and the bear they had cornered up in a tree. It was obvious that he really wanted to join in. What I assume to be his previous training was overriding his brain and the new training I was trying to distill in him.
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Unfortunately for Scamper, for the first couple of weeks of his new life I couldn't take him to a dog park. Getting him better took the first priority and once that happened I still had to pay the $10 fee the state mandates for simply having a dog in the home.
Once we started going however, it quickly became the highlight of his day and mine as well. We quickly found out that each dogpark has a different vibe to it. Nottaway for example while having nicer facilities - water for the dogs, plenty of agility items to jump over, around, and under - tended to be filled with more uptight people who got upset if your dog sniffed theirs the wrong way. In the spirit of a blue collar dog though, we settled on the Blake lane one. The attitude seemed better there. Less restrictive, more relaxed, and more wide open space for scamper to open up and fly.
He was slow to put on weight because any little bit he put on was muscle. His favorite activity early on was getting dogs to chase him as he'd make wide loops around the edge of the dog park. First going slowly with kind of a four legged gallop, un-synchronized. Then, as dogs would close in from behind, he'd move into a cheetah sprint. His front two legs would move as one and propel themselves back, while his hind legs would do the same but in reverse. The result would be an incredible burst of speed, his entire body level, tail balancing the fluid motion.
I also noticed that Scamper, like myself often-times, just likes to hang back and watch it all. Standing aloof or doing his own thing until he felt like playing with someone, then coming over and joining in. He's also very particular about the friends that he plays with. They have to have the right "energy" or personality for him. Otherwise he simply refuses to play. Every now and then I'll go over to him and either start prompting him to play or pushing him to play. Sometimes that works to get his butt moving, and sometimes not.His favorite "move" with dogs is to bite their tails - the fluffier or more poofed up the tail, the better. It started with a husky named 'Shadow.' When together, he's been known to drag her 10ft or more by the tail until she realizes what's going on and comes back at him. I've gotten used to explaining to owners that the problem wasn't Scamper, but rather their own dog's tails. Silly them.
Another way the dog park helped though - in addition to providing an avenue for his copious amounts of puppy energy - was that the process of socialization with people was started. He started off being exceptionally shy around people he didn't know. His head would go down, he'd slink in an orbit just outside of arm reach of anyone who would want to pet him. Gradually however, and more so when he saw me talking to the person he would come over to other people - always on his own terms - and let them pet him or he'd lean into them. I've told countless people who have tried to "be friends" with him that a lot of that is simply the breed. Foxhounds are wary of strangers - rarely aggressive - just cautious of people who they don't perceive as being part of the pack etc...
The other day, someone commented that its taken Scamper a year of seeing this person maybe once a week or so, for scamper to come up to her and let himself be petted. Progress.
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One of my worries when getting Scamper was about how he would handle being around cats and other pets. Growing up in my family we had cats and the odd gerbil or turtle. We didn't get a dog until I guilt tripped my parents into adopting Scruffy when I was 16.
I've never had an issue with scamper and dogs living in the same space. At least to me, he doesn't seem to be particularly territorial about his space in the house. Doesn't get food aggressive - unlike Scruffy at times - nor toy aggressive in the home. If anything, his one failing around other animals is that he's attention aggressive. When he sees other pets getting attention - petting etc... - he likes to butt in and get attention too; what some would say is a sign of an alpha dog personality.
With cats though it's been a different story. Scamper had a lot of problems with Daisy, Katie's cat. He would try and play with her - crouching down, wagging his tail - and she would have none of it. Darting out from under the bed to swipe at him, hissing, etc... A lot of effort was made into introducing the two of them to be together and Daisy would have none of it.
Yet with Buddy - who has spent most of his life with Scruffy - it's been a much different experience. Buddy shows no fear of Scamper since his experience has always been that dogs aren't a threat to him. Scamper in turn has realized that Buddy is not something to play with. Occasionally, Buddy will swipe at Scamper when he's not looking, but other than that no issues. There is a distinction though in how each of those two cats were raised that I think is important. Buddy has spent his entire life essentially a free cat. We got Buddy from a high school friend at JIS whose cat had had a litter - Buddy was the unwanted runt. He's never really been confined other than when we've moved. Daisy on the other hand was a shelter kitty whose personality was quite different from Buddy's. She was scared of pretty much everything since for most of her life, her 'world' during the formative times of a cat's life was quite small and her mental growth stunted as a result.
With cats though it's been a different story. Scamper had a lot of problems with Daisy, Katie's cat. He would try and play with her - crouching down, wagging his tail - and she would have none of it. Darting out from under the bed to swipe at him, hissing, etc... A lot of effort was made into introducing the two of them to be together and Daisy would have none of it.
Yet with Buddy - who has spent most of his life with Scruffy - it's been a much different experience. Buddy shows no fear of Scamper since his experience has always been that dogs aren't a threat to him. Scamper in turn has realized that Buddy is not something to play with. Occasionally, Buddy will swipe at Scamper when he's not looking, but other than that no issues. There is a distinction though in how each of those two cats were raised that I think is important. Buddy has spent his entire life essentially a free cat. We got Buddy from a high school friend at JIS whose cat had had a litter - Buddy was the unwanted runt. He's never really been confined other than when we've moved. Daisy on the other hand was a shelter kitty whose personality was quite different from Buddy's. She was scared of pretty much everything since for most of her life, her 'world' during the formative times of a cat's life was quite small and her mental growth stunted as a result.
I say that though, and at first the two of them - Buddy and Scamper - didn't get along. Back at the old place, where it was established that it was Scamper's territory, Buddy didn't know what to make of Scamper and hid all the time. When we moved into the new place however - and both were on uncertain terms - it quickly settled in to a different pattern where both were on an equal footing. Now the two of them will doze in the same beam of sunshine and it doesn't seem to bother either of them. Every once in awhile, only when Scamper's back is turned to him, Buddy will start swatting at Scamper's tail. Either Scamper is too oblivious or simply doesn't care. Sometimes I think it's a bit of annoyance at Buddy's part that there's this big dog now in his life competing for his attention. Buddy is used to having Scruffy as his partner for attention and in that relationship, Buddy is "top dog" to all concerned.
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I remember the first time he jumped into the water. Katie and I had taken him to Greene State park in Charlottesvile, which has a really nice dog park within it. The dog park borders on the reservoir, and is probably one of the more beautiful dog parks. Thin Pine trees maybe a foot in diameter and 30ft tall were spaced every 10-20ft within it, and on the outside, the forest encroaches on the bordering fence. Scamper was playing with a couple of big black labs who were running about in giant circles. At one point the labs decided to jump into the water and swim a bit. Scamper looked at the labs, looked at the water, cocked his head to the side, then gave it a big jump and jumped in. He swam for a bit away from the shore before coming back in and shaking himself off. After he got out he then ran around chasing the big pack of dogs until he was all dry. I have never seen him do this since then.
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Mr. Bear was a present Katie got for him on one the numerous times we brought him to Fredericksburg with us. We were walking through Petsmart and saw the Halloween stuff on sale. Katie decided to get him this orange squeaky bear with a witches hat, Scamper instantly took a liking to it since it squeaks, and he loves anything that squeaks. Unlike some of his other toys however, Scamper has never resorted to tearing it apart or chewing through it - as he's done with my sofa, chair, 3 sets of shoes, and tv... Instead he crouches down on his front legs nipping Mr. Bear to squeak and then gently tosses it into the air before catching him again and repeats the nipping. We've since gotten another Mr. Bear, this time in green, and he does the same thing to that one. He's been known to carry one of them into his kennel at night and sleep with it - every once in awhile a squeak will issue forth from his kennel as he plays with it.
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Scamper has this unusual - to my mind at least - fascination with hiding beneath porches. That first day I got him, we were outside with him and noticed that he liked to go underneath the porch and hide out. Now this space was not more than a foot high, yet Scamper would crawl underneath it and hang out. He's repeated this behavior often since then - either hiding underneath bushes or chilling out underneath the porch. At the dog park he'll also roll around in the dirt/ grass like a pig in a wallow; completely content to flip from one side to the other in the dirt.
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Yesterday I was out in the yard doing yard work - lots of dragging of branches and bagging them. Scamper was out in the yard with me playing around and watching what I was doing. After maybe 5-10 minutes of this I look over to him and he has a branch in his mouth and was busy dragging it to me. He brings it over and then goes back to the bush he was at and puts a live branch in his jaws proceeding to pull at it while walking backwards. He repeated this maybe 4-5 times before I told him that I had the situation covered. Have never seen this behavior before, but I'll try to exploit it for profit at some point soon.
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According to the most reliable of all sources, the internet, teaching foxhounds can be a troublesome thing. When focused on a scent they will ignore all other stimuli, including owner commands. Of course there are exceptions, and in my new dog owner days I assumed I had the exception. After all he was relatively easy to potty train, having mastered it within the first week. Naturally I was under the impression that all the other tricks would be easy. Dutifully, I went out and bought a clicker and a bag of treats. I figured the first trick to train should be the "come" command since that has the most use. It only took 2-3 times before Scamper figured out that anytime I would pick up the clicker that he would get a treat and he'd start following me around the house not letting me get out of his sight with the bag of treats. I gave up after about a month, clicker training simply wasn't going to work.
Where it became a problem though was when we were at the dog park and Scamper was having fun. He'd require 20-30 min of wrangling to get him out on those days that he simply refused to leave. I can't really remember when this changed though. At some point probably last spring, he started listening to me. All I have to do now is say "Scamper, come" while walking towards the gate and he'll stop whatever he's doing and comes to the gate tail wagging going "right behind ya good buddy." This will happen even if we've only been at the dog park 10 minutes and something comes up and have to leave suddenly. Very much a drastic change of the days when I would chase him around the dog park with a leash in hand and once finally caught, made him do the walk of shame.
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Because of Scamper having so many digestive issues, pretty early on the decision was made to forbid him from going upstairs. This was done because on either day 2 or 3 he decided to go up there while I was away and make diarrhea all over the floor up there - ruining the carpet in the process. I quickly borrowed and installed a baby gate to prevent him from going upstairs unless I allowed him to. From then on, the 'upstairs' as both physical and mental construct became the forbidden fruit in his life. Whenever he would see that I moved the gate aside so that I could carry stuff upstairs, he'd trot up a couple stairs looking at me, wondering if it was ok. When I would shoo him downstairs he'd turn around and try going up again, hoping I wasn't looking. He also realized that anything upstairs was a special treat such as being allowed up into my bed. When we go over to other people's homes he enjoys running up and down the stairs completely uninhibited.
The one place this doesn't apply though is with our monthly doggy baths. I used to give him his baths in the upstairs bathroom and he would gladly run up the stairs until he realized I was about to put him in the bath tub. He would promptly turn around and bolt downstairs to safety having realized the malevolence behind his invitation upstairs.
One weekend last fall sometime, I brought Scamper back from an early morning dog park run. Katie was asleep upstairs and I decided to surprise her with a little Scamper in the bed. This dog bolted upstairs jumping melee into the bed to be petted and loved. Probably the best memory I have of the three of us together.
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There is something incredibly special about coming home to a dog you've grown attached to. Last April/May I went out for an extended period of time to California to take care of my Grandparents. I left Scamper in the care of Katie during the 2 weeks I was gone. She told me that the entire time I was gone he would look out the window waiting for me to come home, wasn't eating as much as usual, didn't play as well with dogs at the dogpark, wouldn't listen to her, etc... I remember coming back and driving straight down from Dullest to Charlottesvile to pick him up. She brought him out to a small patch of grass next to the parking lot. He saw the car, saw me, and he started shivering with excitement. I come out of the car and he bolted off the leash and jumped straight into my arms. He was saying "you're back, I've found you again, don't leave ok?" and then he was fine. He led me proudly back to Katie's place at the front of the pack, tail up and wagging.
It's a pattern that's been repeated at a lot of points in his and I relationship. He is an incredibly expressive dog with his body. I've spent enough time - maybe too much time - just studying his body language. I can tell when he's happy, when he's sad, when he's about to nip another dog's butt, when he's spotted someone he wants to be with. But my favorite body language of his is when I'm coming home and I've been away for awhile. He comes up to me with the tail moving a mile a minute, his head bobbing to the side as his back-end comes to lay against my leg. The barely suppressed joy openly expressed.
There's something that I find hard to express to other people or rather that I think a lot of people would find it either a. silly, or b. weak. It's the connection between man and dog that goes deeper than the superficial 'you are my pet, I am the master.' But something about the way that Scamper and I have grown together this past year and half; having spent so much time with one another. It's that love that exists between a boy and his dog that completes both. The picture of a boy and the dog on a cliff somewhere, overlooking the valley at sunset. His arm wraps around the dogs shoulders. The dog, sitting, leaning into His boy. It symbolizes both the transient nature of that relationship - because of the unfortunate shortness of the dog's life - but also the incredibly strong bond between the two of them. The dependency of both on the other to fulfill something lacking in their soul. It's nice to have in one's life, someone to come home to like that. Who doesn't care if you haven't been successful in your career, or that on that day you've failed at pretty much everything you do. For him, it doesn't matter, because you're there now, and that's the most important thing.
I'm going to finish this off, for now at least, with a few lines from the court case where the phrase "man's best friend comes from." The dog in question was Old Drum - a Foxhound I should add - who had killed a neighboring farmer's sheep. Old Drum had been shot by the farmer, but his owner decided to sue the farmer for damages. George Vest, who represented Old Drum's owner, in the closing remarks finished with the following:
"If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death."
Thank you everyone for reading.
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Scamper has this unusual - to my mind at least - fascination with hiding beneath porches. That first day I got him, we were outside with him and noticed that he liked to go underneath the porch and hide out. Now this space was not more than a foot high, yet Scamper would crawl underneath it and hang out. He's repeated this behavior often since then - either hiding underneath bushes or chilling out underneath the porch. At the dog park he'll also roll around in the dirt/ grass like a pig in a wallow; completely content to flip from one side to the other in the dirt.
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Yesterday I was out in the yard doing yard work - lots of dragging of branches and bagging them. Scamper was out in the yard with me playing around and watching what I was doing. After maybe 5-10 minutes of this I look over to him and he has a branch in his mouth and was busy dragging it to me. He brings it over and then goes back to the bush he was at and puts a live branch in his jaws proceeding to pull at it while walking backwards. He repeated this maybe 4-5 times before I told him that I had the situation covered. Have never seen this behavior before, but I'll try to exploit it for profit at some point soon.
---
According to the most reliable of all sources, the internet, teaching foxhounds can be a troublesome thing. When focused on a scent they will ignore all other stimuli, including owner commands. Of course there are exceptions, and in my new dog owner days I assumed I had the exception. After all he was relatively easy to potty train, having mastered it within the first week. Naturally I was under the impression that all the other tricks would be easy. Dutifully, I went out and bought a clicker and a bag of treats. I figured the first trick to train should be the "come" command since that has the most use. It only took 2-3 times before Scamper figured out that anytime I would pick up the clicker that he would get a treat and he'd start following me around the house not letting me get out of his sight with the bag of treats. I gave up after about a month, clicker training simply wasn't going to work.
Where it became a problem though was when we were at the dog park and Scamper was having fun. He'd require 20-30 min of wrangling to get him out on those days that he simply refused to leave. I can't really remember when this changed though. At some point probably last spring, he started listening to me. All I have to do now is say "Scamper, come" while walking towards the gate and he'll stop whatever he's doing and comes to the gate tail wagging going "right behind ya good buddy." This will happen even if we've only been at the dog park 10 minutes and something comes up and have to leave suddenly. Very much a drastic change of the days when I would chase him around the dog park with a leash in hand and once finally caught, made him do the walk of shame.
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Because of Scamper having so many digestive issues, pretty early on the decision was made to forbid him from going upstairs. This was done because on either day 2 or 3 he decided to go up there while I was away and make diarrhea all over the floor up there - ruining the carpet in the process. I quickly borrowed and installed a baby gate to prevent him from going upstairs unless I allowed him to. From then on, the 'upstairs' as both physical and mental construct became the forbidden fruit in his life. Whenever he would see that I moved the gate aside so that I could carry stuff upstairs, he'd trot up a couple stairs looking at me, wondering if it was ok. When I would shoo him downstairs he'd turn around and try going up again, hoping I wasn't looking. He also realized that anything upstairs was a special treat such as being allowed up into my bed. When we go over to other people's homes he enjoys running up and down the stairs completely uninhibited.
The one place this doesn't apply though is with our monthly doggy baths. I used to give him his baths in the upstairs bathroom and he would gladly run up the stairs until he realized I was about to put him in the bath tub. He would promptly turn around and bolt downstairs to safety having realized the malevolence behind his invitation upstairs.
One weekend last fall sometime, I brought Scamper back from an early morning dog park run. Katie was asleep upstairs and I decided to surprise her with a little Scamper in the bed. This dog bolted upstairs jumping melee into the bed to be petted and loved. Probably the best memory I have of the three of us together.
---
There is something incredibly special about coming home to a dog you've grown attached to. Last April/May I went out for an extended period of time to California to take care of my Grandparents. I left Scamper in the care of Katie during the 2 weeks I was gone. She told me that the entire time I was gone he would look out the window waiting for me to come home, wasn't eating as much as usual, didn't play as well with dogs at the dogpark, wouldn't listen to her, etc... I remember coming back and driving straight down from Dullest to Charlottesvile to pick him up. She brought him out to a small patch of grass next to the parking lot. He saw the car, saw me, and he started shivering with excitement. I come out of the car and he bolted off the leash and jumped straight into my arms. He was saying "you're back, I've found you again, don't leave ok?" and then he was fine. He led me proudly back to Katie's place at the front of the pack, tail up and wagging.
It's a pattern that's been repeated at a lot of points in his and I relationship. He is an incredibly expressive dog with his body. I've spent enough time - maybe too much time - just studying his body language. I can tell when he's happy, when he's sad, when he's about to nip another dog's butt, when he's spotted someone he wants to be with. But my favorite body language of his is when I'm coming home and I've been away for awhile. He comes up to me with the tail moving a mile a minute, his head bobbing to the side as his back-end comes to lay against my leg. The barely suppressed joy openly expressed.
There's something that I find hard to express to other people or rather that I think a lot of people would find it either a. silly, or b. weak. It's the connection between man and dog that goes deeper than the superficial 'you are my pet, I am the master.' But something about the way that Scamper and I have grown together this past year and half; having spent so much time with one another. It's that love that exists between a boy and his dog that completes both. The picture of a boy and the dog on a cliff somewhere, overlooking the valley at sunset. His arm wraps around the dogs shoulders. The dog, sitting, leaning into His boy. It symbolizes both the transient nature of that relationship - because of the unfortunate shortness of the dog's life - but also the incredibly strong bond between the two of them. The dependency of both on the other to fulfill something lacking in their soul. It's nice to have in one's life, someone to come home to like that. Who doesn't care if you haven't been successful in your career, or that on that day you've failed at pretty much everything you do. For him, it doesn't matter, because you're there now, and that's the most important thing.
I'm going to finish this off, for now at least, with a few lines from the court case where the phrase "man's best friend comes from." The dog in question was Old Drum - a Foxhound I should add - who had killed a neighboring farmer's sheep. Old Drum had been shot by the farmer, but his owner decided to sue the farmer for damages. George Vest, who represented Old Drum's owner, in the closing remarks finished with the following:
"If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death."
Thank you everyone for reading.
