Rebel

Today I was chatting and the subject of my dogs came up with a friend. Many of you probably have dogs, and like me, you think that your dogs are the most intelligent creatures on earth. I'm a realist, though.

Rebel came to us by way of my mother. My last dog, Harley, was killed at age 3 by having the misfortune of running under the tires of my crazy speeding neighbor. What made this worse was that it occurred in front of my son. Fortunately, Jill and I were not at home, and arrangements had been made for Harley before I could get back.

I cried for three days - even at work - and people were beginning to talk. I combed the local newspapers for a black long haired chihuahua pomeranian mix, but to no avail. We even traveled to a nearby town...but found that the short haired chihuahua mixed with the pomeranian gave something that was downright scary looking. I began to believe that Harley was irreplaceable.

After whining to my mother incessantly during this period, she finally acknowledged that she was aware of a litter of puppies that would be right around the proper age for release from their mother. The mother was a Shih Tzu and the father was a Yorkshire Terrier (yorkie) that was allegedly past his prime. Not so.

Mom was aware of this as her Shih Tzu, Bradley, was actually getting the nod as the sire, and alas, it was too late. At least, I think that's right.

So, they went to the house and one puppy remained. A little brown male. Actually, he was more gold at the time and had black markings. I had already pre-named him "Rebel" - partly after the high school mascot in Thomaston, GA, and partly because I thought it sounded like a great dog name.

Rebel came to live with us approximately four years ago. He was a quiet little dog. Easily trained, and willing to sit for hours on my lap at the baseball field while Brian played ball. All of the children loved him, and he was just a great dog.

I trained him to do commands...sit, stay, shake, high 5, down, roll, spin, play dead, and choose the hand. He worked hard for his slices of American cheese. He still knows the word "cheese" and will aggressively "speak" to have the opportunity to perform.

A year later, we got a female Shih Tzu - the daughter of my mother's dog, Bradley, and a lovely little Shih Tzu named Pepper. Ironically, Pepper was white. I don't get it, but whatever. We named her Dixie. She looks exactly like her father, Bradley, and is THE perfect dog.

Rebel and Dixie went on to have a total of 12 puppies...Bo and Luke, Shania, Willie, Hank, Merle, Dolly, Brad, Reba, Billy Ray, Toby, and Patsy. Do you notice a common thread here? Only Toby kept his "original" name. We still receive pictures of the granddogs from four of the parties and have babysat three of them for various reasons at one time or another.

After figuring out his mission on earth...so to speak...Rebel became quite protective of his yard. This meant that anyone coming into the yard was going to leave remembering that he did not appreciate the intrusion. This was usually a nip right at the ankle as the individual turned to leave.

Rebel bit everyone from males daring to come visit HIS Jill to delivery people. The mailman refused to deliver mail to the door anymore and asked for a copy of his rabies certificate. DSL and UPS braved it, but kept him in front of them.

The last straw was when he crossed over and bit my friend, Nedra. That was enough for me to schedule his "appointment."

He has been somewhat better since.

I am writing about him because I think about how wonderful it is to have pets, and how at this particular stage in my life...I love knowing that someone thinks I have some degree of intelligence. Rebel believes himself to be my dog, although he sleeps with Brian at night, and fully understands that David is the alpha male at our house.

He is just a great dog. Ornary as all get out if you don't know him...so...if you ever come to visit me...keep the brown dog in front of you. Later!