This isn’t Lady, but this is her type. And she wasn’t, technically, my dog… My college roommate, when she bought her first house, invited me to live with her and share expenses. Soon after, we drove way up to northern Michigan (from Ohio) to visit her mom, who had Lady as a guard dog for her establishment. But Lady was getting older (9), and had been diagnosed with heartworms, so mom was going to euthanize her. Instead, my roommate brought her to live with us, got her treated and healthy, and determined to give her a good life on the farm…
Lady had been trained to guard, and purchased for that purpose. But I hadn’t seen that side of her, as she was now “retired”. I became quickly attached to her (as was my roommate, who had of course known her for years and also had another dog) and soon Lady was sleeping on my bed, accompanying me on various trips, joining me at work – I was an activity director at a nursing home and the residents LOVED her. She was smart, sweet, gentle, and fun. She became my sidekick especially after Obi was gone.
Though I loved her, I always knew she wasn’t “mine” and that was a bit of a stumbling block in my mind.
One night, very late, when my roommate was already asleep, Lady and I were in the living room. Everything was quiet. I heard footsteps on the gravel driveway along the side of the house, then saw the figure of a man walk across the deck at the back of the house, past the kitchen window, toward the back door. Lady, of course, was aware before I was, and was standing, stock still. As he crossed the deck her hair stood on end; she was at attention, but quietly. (This was her training; I’d never seen a dog that wouldn’t have been barking already!) I walked to the corner and peeked around just as the man tried to open the back door; Lady was tense and watching, and ready. As I stood back so he couldn’t see me, she took one step forward. He saw her, and ran. Lady never made a sound, but did her job. After that, realizing that though she wasn’t “mine” she had protected me. And that pretty much sealed our relationship.
(The next-door neighbor – about 100 feet away, there in the country – had a St. Bernard who was sleeping in their barn that night. She woke up the next morning as he was having seizures. Rushing him to the vet, she learned that he had been poisoned. He survived, but I always blamed myself for not calling her and telling her about the prowler…I didn’t want to wake her but I should have…)
Lady was the first doberman I had had a relationship with, and I was smitten. After a while I went to the shelter and got my own dog once again, knowing I wouldn’t be living there forever, and surely enough after a couple of years I – and my dog Spanky Marie – moved on. Lady lived to a ripe old age though I don’t recall exactly what that age was, 14 is stuck in my mind…but I clearly never forgot her, and she set the stage for my lifelong love of doberman pinschers, and I did have another some years later, who you will “meet” in a few weeks…
But next week, Spanky Marie. And be prepared – that story is likely to be a long one!
PAST STORIES
I LOVE this series and am looking forward to ‘meeting’ Spanky Marie!
It’s going to be hard to keep Spanky Marie’s story to less than a Michener-length novel hahaha!
If memory serves…never sure anymore…it was from Lady we learned the correct way to teach a pet “Kill.”
We taught our next pet the command and entertained many when it would immediately sit up and beg. That was not as frightening when our CAT did it…
That’s right, I had forgotten about that, Don LOL!!! Gabe was a unique cat for sure!