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2002-11-20 - 6:48 a.m.

"Oh, Jesus! That's the strangest--the oooglist--dog I've ever seen!" - Diva, circa 1991.

The story of Blue's life!

In the early 90s I was looking for a dog. I had observed the grace and intelligence of the Aussie (Australian Shepherd) in a dog obedience class and went about trying to locate a pup. I found Blue in Ames, Iowa, and made the three-hour trek north to get her.

She was three months old and the sole pup remaining in a litter from championship show stock. She missed the typical two-month-old sell because her head was too small and she didn't conform to show standards. She was an odd ball! An understatement! Blue has gone about living her life proving she doesn't conform to any standards. She is, unquestionably, the strangest dog who has ever owned me.

Aussie's are blue merle, red merle, solid black, or solid red. Blue is a blue merle, a motley patchwork of silver, black, white and caramel. Her hair is thick and wavy, but unlike most Aussie coats, her hair waves forward from her hindquarters toward her withers. The natural bob tail is useless for wagging, so she wiggles her butt in greeting or to let me know I've done something right. Despite a noticeably small head, a multi-colored coat and pink splashes on the flairs of her nose, the flecks and marbling of her eyes (one brown, one blue) are what stand out when first meeting her. I consider her eyes striking; most everybody else has a different way of describing them. "She's a damn freak" is the predominant descriptor.

Even from puppyhood, Blue had-well-a few odd quirks.

She's a dedicated guard of her people and property and terrified of ceiling fans. She reigns over the cat, yet crawls under the bed to avoid being sucked up by the vacuum cleaner. In her youth, Frizbee was a much-loved game, but the piece de resistance was chasing airplanes. The sound of a plane drives her into a circling frenzy. For hours she runs in circles barking at the sky. If the answering machine kicks on, she races to the bedroom, sits by the machine and howls at the voices.

She has never possessed the grace and agility of the breed. When playing Frizbee her long body stretches skyward, legs akimbo, and then she lands, but not on her feet--on her butt. The only time she accompanied us on the boat she fell overboard, and she woke me one night when she rolled off the bed, landing with a loud thud and wooph.

And, for reasons only Blue knows, she enjoys wrecking havoc with Christmas presents. When I'm wrapping packages she insists her nose be inside boxes, in the tape or under the ribbon. Packages left unattended under a tree are fair game. Two years ago she opened the package and ate the garnet earrings I'd purchased for my mother.

She never was-and still isn't-an affectionate dog. She's always been aloof and independent. When she wants an ear scratch, she will let me know by swatting me with a paw. Two years ago she claimed a rug by the shower stall as her domain. Anyone invading her sanctum is greeted with a hiss-not a growl, but a very impressive hiss. The only time she's in a gregarious mood is in the presence of food. She's an award-winning beggar at the table, she crowds between me and the stove during meal preparation, and on one occasion she crawled into the dishwasher to retrieve a food scrape left on a dish.

In middle age, she began exhibiting new mental mix-ups, and her vet diagnosed her with Generalized Anxiety Disorder-or maybe Multiple-Personality Disorder. He wasn't sure, but he was fairly sure she was nuts. Trying to chew her foot off, he said, was symptomatic of that. Her regimen of medications included Prozac (the prescription was in my name, for crying out loud) and then some other anti-depressants.

She limps with arthritis and can no longer jump on the couch or bed. I have to help her into and out of the car for rides to the vet or rides to the lake walking trails. Her blue eye is now faded and glazed with cataracts. During her early senior years she was a stubborn, cantankerous and obstinate recluse. She was content to be left alone in the backyard or on her bathroom rug.

In recent months she's regressed to puppyhood. Growling and shaking her stuffed toys, pawing and jumping at sticks in the backyard. Greeting visitors to her home with an enthusiastic yelp and wiggle of her butt. She sleeps by my recliner at night when I read, sometimes sitting with paw and chin on my arm.

SueSue, who has witnessed Blue undergo recurrent personality changes, was surprised recently when Blue hobbled to her and demanded an extended head pat.

"Who is she today?" SueSue asked.

"Sybil?"

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