This is the story of our dog Hunter, the most annoying dog in the world. This is him now.
His hind legs are paralyzed, but not his spirit. That’s why I want to tell you his story.
It started when he was just a puppy.
His mother was the most annoying dog in the neighborhood. She spent most of her time chained in her backyard barking. The rest of the time she spent roaming the neighborhood barking. At least until her owners got her a present. Or maybe it was one of the neighbors. One can never be too sure about these things.
That ended her barking. But not her wandering. Every six months or so there was another sign about free puppies as you drove into town and every six months or so the remainder were taken to the pound. How we ended up with one is a whole ‘nuther story. Maybe I’ll tell it to you in the comments if anyone wants to know.
Anyway, he apparently took careful notes from his mother because when he came to live at our house, he displayed one great talent.
If I put him in the backyard, he barked.
If I had him in the front room, he barked.
When I had enough and put him in the kennel in my room, he screamed.
When the kids went out the back door, he would knock them over to get out.
Then I had to go out and chase him. Not that I could catch him. He would run in little circles around me, always just out of reach, always barking like his life depended on it.
And I thought all sorts of horrible things.
I knew he wasn’t getting enough walks. He was a big dog and a high energy dog. I resolved multiple times to take him for more walks and longer walks to just try to wear him out.
But I just couldn’t afford it.
So I resolved to take him to the pound. Over and over and over. Sometimes, I fantasized about it. While chasing him across the field behind our house, I’d imagine myself driving around with the minivan and opening the door, the one trick that almost always worked. Then I’d drive to the pound and leave him, the barking and the three leashes he’d eat on the way behind me. Sometimes I even told him all about it.
I might have even carried through if it weren’t for one thing.
He wasn’t my dog. I mean, he lived in my house and ate my dog food and got on my nerves, but he had chosen my son as His Boy. And my quirkly little boy had a lot of trouble fitting in and needed all the unconditional love he could get. Even if it came in the form of the most annoying dog in the world.
To be continued . . .with Part II.
I homeschool my children on a small hobby farm in rural Nebraska and write about life more abundantly, from the joy of a baby's smile to the almost unbearable grief of losing a son while seeking beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, a garment of praise instead of the spirit of despair (Isaiah 61:3)
Omgosh! I want to know more about this annoying dog who eats leashes and barks. You can’t leave me hanging like this. LOL
You’re stories are great Dana. I have enjoyed reading your posts for the past 2 years. And I look forward to reading more of your writings. So on that note I guess I will have to ~patiently~ wait for the conclusion of this story.
Thank, Lisa! I went back and forth on whether to to split this one, but it was getting rather long and I was afraid if I had too many more pictures, the page would never load! It seemed to wrap up at a natural stopping point there.
Now here’s hoping I can finish up the illustrations for the second part before everyone forgets the first part!
I want to know more about this dog too!!!!
Add me to the list of people who want to hear about how you got the dog.
It’s kind of a sad story.
I had gotten an Australian shepherd puppy. After all kinds of research, we drove all the way to Grand Island for a blue merle. He was the perfect puppy and learned so quickly. At four months old, he came when he was called, sat, laid down, barked on command, heeled and was house broken. He about tore through his kennel the night someone tried to come through the front door and spent the night on my bed with me and all my children and the cell phone programmed to 911 to make us feel a little safer.
Then one night I was sitting on the porch with him, listening to their party and a bit of shouting. I had to use the restroom and just left him there in the side yard playing with his ball. A couple minutes later I heard the screech. Someone had sped off from the party and my puppy ran into the road. The tire marks stretched from our drive to the next neighbor’s yard, but Holden was dead.
They felt bad. It wasn’t their fault. I should have just brought the puppy in, but they offered me their last puppy they were going to take to the pound in the morning and I accepted it mostly just to let them know I held nothing against them.
Awww! Looking forward to the rest of the story. Love the pics! ;o)
Dana
I loved the story and the illustrations. He is definitely part of your family and I can’t wait to hear more. Take care of yourself.
You’re a great storyteller!
Looking forward to the rest of the story.
I feel horribly about the Shepard (hug); it however was honorable of you to take their offer of replacement.
I look forward to hearing part 2.
You captivate your audience (definitely me), writing definitely comes naturally for you.
Thank you for your posts, they touch my heart, move my being and give me a much needed giggle. Thank you.
I related quite well to your picture of the mother fuming over the rogue dog and the thoughts and daydreams of getting rid of the dog. We have a lab that had a talent for getting loose and loves to run beyond the boundaries and many a time I fantazied about advertising her, leaving her and even shooting her while I was running after her. THEN later I would go to kiss my 11 year old goodnight and there is his dog stretched out beside him with my 11 year old’s arm around her. SIGH! How can I get rid of my son’s best friend. (check it out! I took a moment to read your blog to say hello!)
HI. BRITA!!!! Now I feel extra guilty for thinking of emailing you all the time except when I’m at the computer and ready to do so.
And my heart just melted every night when I went to check on my son and there Hunter was curled up using his feet as a pillow. I’d lovingly call him a little weasel and scratch his ears.
Dana, I never knew that about Bear! I left another post on that page. Can’t wait to hear the end!
Praying for you all, always, especially Bear.
Thank you, Mary. He is doing so much better now. He’s still a bit quirky, but he doesn’t need any special interventions or extra attention to be able to participate in activities. Just an extra measure of patience, sometimes, but no more than most boys his age require.
It seems like such a cute dog!!! your post is so funny by the way
Michael from gun holsters
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I love the drawings!!!!
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