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Likes: Belly Rubs, swimming in the river, chasing tennis balls, doggie wrestling with best pal Sadie, answering his pee-mail, licking the spagetti sauce pot, camping out, rolling down a grassy hill, and being off leash at Grandma's.
Pet-Peeves: Ill mannered primate pups, getting brushed, vet visits, and Skye the kitten we adopted last Dec.
Favorite Toy: Tennis balls
Favorite Food: Pizza Crust, any meat, spagetti, and bacon.
Favorite Walk: To the river for an afternoon swim, up stream to San Antonio's famous Riverwalk.
Best Tricks: Pretending to chew on the bed sheets so I'll give him a new rawhide chewy treat
Forums Motto: These paws were made for walking!
One afternoon Lucky & I were starting our evening walk when a car screeched to a halt beside us. The driver pulled over to the curb, jumped out and ran up to us asking "What kind of dog is he?!!!" "Well," I said, "we're not exactly sure of his parentage, we think he might have some Beagle..." "He's gorgeous,"
the lady knelt down to make introductions to Lucky, who extended a tentative nose to sniff her hand. She told us of her involvement with two breed rescue groups, one for Beagles and the other for Shiba Inu.
She thought he might be a cross between these two breeds, and was certain this is what a cross would look like. I had to look this breed up in a dog book.
Our vet thinks he has some Chow-Chow because he has a few blue spots in his mouth and these are common in San Antonio. I think he has Beagle, Collie or maybe a kind of small Husky, he's 42 pounds. He has a very curly tail that bounces up over his back as he trots. Guessing Lucky's lineage is a sure fire conversation starter.
So many people stop us to ask what kind of dog he is that we created a breed for him. We tell folks he a West Texas Cohuillan Boar Hound which is a very rare breed. So rare that there is only one of them.
In 2001 I was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer. We lost our oldest cat about a month after my diagnosis. I began chemotherapy not long after BW’s passing. During the long summer of chemo treatments, radical surgery and healing from the surgery, I thought a lot about the things I wanted in my life that I had put off until the “optimum time’” I realized that the “optimum time” would never come so the time for these deferred desires was now. What I most wanted was a dog. Since my marriage we had always had cats. My husband is a cat person and had never had a dog, even as a child. So we talked about it and felt like we should find a beagle when I was finished with treatment and recuperation. Through September and October I underwent radiation therapy and had my last treatment three days before Halloween.
Between those few days we heard whimpering coming from under the house and after a bit of searching we found a lost puppy. Bob had sighted him before I did and said “Sarida, it’s a beagle.” I thought, “No way!, it can’t be a beagle. Surely its just a lost mutt, we’ll get him out to the Humane Society and he’ll be adopted by a nice family.” Finally my flashlight beam found the lost pup, he was tri colored like a beagle, but had small short ears and the sweetest face.
He looked at me and pulled those ears forward in an alert expression and then back in a submissive gesture. He was sad and frightened. I heard that little voice in the back of my head, “This is your dog.” Yes, this is my dog, the one I was seeking.
It took about four weeks of working and conditioning him to allow us to get closer and closer. Finally he was confident enough to come out from under the house and go inside, briefly. It took a few weeks more for him to lose his fear of being touched by us. One afternoon I was sitting with him at the opening where he would come out to eat. He was still evasive about being touched, so I let him mouth my fingers and stroked his muzzle. I asked him, “Have you ever had a belly rub?” He cocked his head at me as if interested. I said, “Some doggies really like to have their bellies rubbed.” I reached past his head and stroked his side. At first he tensed up and I was afraid he’d retreat from me. Then as I repeated the stroking he relaxed and shifted slowly over to his left side and showed just a little of his underside. I took a chance and rubbed him gently. This was the breakthrough, he rolled over completely and allowed me to fully rub his belly. In just a few minutes he went from anxious and apprehensive to relaxed bliss. He trusted me now.
Over the next months we went through all the puppy phases of chewing on furniture, housebreaking mishaps, discovering that cats are armed with very sharp claws, and pushing the limits on behavior issues to point that I was ready to swat him with a rolled up paper. But, I couldn’t actually hit him, I knew that was what was done to him before his abandonment. I sat on the floor with him gathered in my arms and I promised that no matter what he did I would never strike him. I know he can’t understand my words, but he reads my gestures and how I express my intentions physically. He understood me on a level that made sense to him. He is a very bright dog and eager to please his humans.
Lucky proved to be a quick study at housebreaking. Most of his mistakes were actually my fault for not paying attention to his signs. Chewing was easily minimized by providing alternate chewable toys and rawhide strips. Cats, well they are still fun to flush and chase if you know how to evade their paws.
He has been a big part of my healing from cancer. He is a gift from the “Doggie Angels”, and he needed me as much as I needed him. Lucky owns a huge chunk of real estate in my heart and is a source of great joy. The cold nosed, slobbery, butt sniffing joy only a dog can bring.
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