We brought her home from a puppy mill, a fluffy ball of fur
trembling in my son’s hands. She would occupy a central part of our family’s
lives for 15 years. Dogs do that you know.
She was several not 50 shades of grey with tufts of platinum
in her long eyebrows. She had Hollywood eyelashes and teeth as white as the
best cosmetic dentist could bring. So dark were her brown eyes that I almost
wondered if she could see.
It took a few days for the fur ball to relax and start to
play with toys, mostly old tennis balls. She was as fast, no faster than a cat
catching up with the rolling targets. You see, schnauzers are bred to catch
rats and shake them to pieces like the sheep sat in the mattress ads. We would
not know if she was tougher than she looked for quite a while.
We watched the grey puppy run and slide across the floor
disappearing under shelves. We would call her Misty. Not that she looked like a
stallion or wild horse of Chincoteague. No she was mysterious to us, a trait
that would grow to magnify her name.
Misty was affectionate yet aloof. She showed love for her
family, but not relatives. Growls and nips were in order for any visitors of
the new addition to our family. We were told, “she is not friendly you know!” I
don’t know if she thought them rats or just not equal to her intimate family.
Schnauzers are loyal to a fault to their own and not to anyone else.
She grew stronger and took walks in the neighborhood. She
came to be called “the best walked dog” wherever. She loved to review her
territory, our neighborhood. She studied the other people and dogs with
interest. Then she decided, as she was an Alpha-dog that she would claim her
territory. She decided she must find some help for the defense of her realm. In
turned out that on the other side of our subdivision was a pair of also grey
wolfhounds. They were many times her size, but she would back them into their
driveway as she passed in review. They
figured out, as was the plan that she was in charge. And so it was with the
other dogs in the neighborhood, Misty was in charge.
It came to pass that we needed to move to Virginia for
employment. I was to be the Corporate Compliance and Ethics Officer for the
University of Virginia in Charlottesville, VA. We found a home in the foothills
of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was breathtakingly beautiful, surrounded by
ridges covered with Oak and Tulip Ash. We would walk in the woods and Misty
would chase squirrels. We met our neighbors with a gorgeous Sheltie. I have
forgotten the dog’s name, but we called him “Mohead” because he came to know
quickly that Misty was an Alpha. We
spent many joyous walks together in the woods surrounding our home.
There were many dogs in the neighborhood we found out as we
walked. The homes were all on large lots and almost invisible to neighbors. But
a small pack of dogs roamed the lower part of the development. Our lot was a
couple of acres stretching down to the next group of homes and the territory of
the pack. One day Misty decided that she
would once again claim her territory and she ventured down to tell the pack so.
Quickly a chase ensued and she had to run for her life as perhaps a dozen much
larger dogs turned on her forcing her back to her property. But before she
could get home, the Alpha of the pack had taken a good chunk out of her hind-
quarters. It was very clear that Misty was not nationally known for her
bravado.
We tended to our frightened little girl. She had never been
questioned before. Life was upside down for her. At least she had Mohead and so
she lorded over him on our walks and found a certain solace in it.
We had kept our home in Wisconsin for our sons to live in
while one attended dental school and his brother training for dental lab
technology. We returned and Misty immediately found that she was still
Queen-Bee in the neighborhood. Life was back to normal.
She had aged and matured in her view of the complex world we
live in. She became more contemplative and decided our family was enough. Our
extended family did not enjoy visits subject to her disapproval. But she was
Alpha after all.
The years went by for the best walked dog in Mequon. She
grew more and more loyal to us. Did I tell you that she slept with me- only? As
she grew older she began to move up the bed. She was easily able to jump up on
top of the antique bed that was our four feet high. Pretty good for a little
rat dog.
Misty slowed. You know schnauzers are know for barking or
yapping at everything that moves in front of their residence. She was not of
that ilk. She chose carefully who would receive her chiding.
Other dogs were not terribly welcome you see because she
thought she was human. We brought home a new large German Short/long hair puppy
one day for the boys. You see we are a hunting family going back to the beginning.
This move was not received with joy or any decorum other than proper sternness
for a German dog. Heidi was a loving and somewhat misfit puppy. She would one
the other hand become an outstanding hunting Dog for Chad. She learned to flush
and swim and retrieve. Of course Misty could do none of the above, but she was
Alpha so what did that matter. She bossed Heidi around and taught her to obey
her. She taught this poor dog how to sit and lie down and just whose food was
not hers.
Well dear Heidi was born with a malformed hip dysplasia. We
sadly decided, as she was hurting herself, that we needed to put her down. In
three short years she had become an important part of our family.
Misty was not markedly saddened by the loss of her
understudy. She continued, albeit more slowly, to range her lands. Then she
began to slow more. Now I was lifting her to the bed at night. She began to
move slowly from the foot of the bed toward my pillow. You see she was hurting.
She had Lyme’s disease and other illnesses we did not know at the time. She was
dying of cancer and heart disease.
Slowly she moved and we carried her up the stairs to bed.
She slept. No longer was she meeting us at the door with the frenzy of a crazed
dog. Her focus moved inward as she seemed to give her dominion up to the next
territorial rival.
Pam, my wife, took her to the vet. The wonder-filled years
would move to memory. We would caste her ashes on her dominion. No audience of
adoring dogs. Just us.
She had loved and understood us. She never complained or
argued, except with other dogs. She nodded her head in agreement with all our
decisions, except maybe bringing Heidi home. She was patient and watched from
her couch and then my lap. She knew I needed special attention. She knew that I
had a confidence problem. She was always encouraging. No idea was not worth
trying. Adventurous and full of wisdom, she was fearless. Where can you find
this kind of companion?
It would be on a trip through the Blue Ridge Mountains that
we would find Misty Mountain and know that she was running in the wood above us
enjoying her freedom, but knowing we were near. Sleep in peace, we will see you
again Misty.
How can I say that? One of my favorite and renown pastors
said about the afterlife in heaven. “I think dogs will be there, but not cats.”
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