Missy Joins the Family

From letters written in June and July, 1995

My life changed dramatically recently. I sit here babysitting the newest member of our family. She is Missy, a Rottweiler puppy a bit past three months old. The munching sound you hear is Old Kate eating her words. I swore I would not have one.

Our beloved older Golden Labrador, Simba, died recently of the complications of an early old age. Our younger Golden Lab, Amber, was inconsolable. She howled all night. Daytimes she went to the place under the big tree at the far side of the yard where Simba painfully betook himself at the end. There she laid down as if waiting for him to return.

I decided we had to have a puppy instantly. While I was on the phone to Gerry Sharp, a client in the citrus valley, Alex passed me a note saying, “Ask him about poppy.” My first reaction was that I was to ask our best customer if he were in the heroin business. Then I realized that Alex’s hasty print read puppy.

Gerry said there was a litter of Rottweilers ready to be released in Burrell Boom. In reply to my demurral about the breed, he put his wife Marie (of the hot sauce) on a conference call to help convince me that Rottweilers can be the most loving, family-oriented, sweet-natured dogs in the world. They have had four.

To shorten the story, we had Missy the next morning. We all worried about Amber’s reception of the intruder. Simba quite literally tried to kill Amber when we brought her home. This reception was a bit wary on both sides. Amber was friendlier than Missy, to my surprise. The puppy found a comforting cave under the back steps, ventured out to meet Amber, then retreated hastily. A day later Amber and Missy were playing so energetically that it was hard to tell which initiated the action.

I donated my bathroom to Missy. It is not safe to leave her alone outdoors, day or night, because there is a hot trade in stolen puppies. There are heartbreaking ads in the papers and on TV weekly.

I lived through the first few nights on love and self-discipline, rather than sleep. Quickly, Missy learned to sleep through and, even more important, to leave the papers at the end of “her room” as pristine in the morning as they were the night before.

Alex and María puppynap Missy as often as they can. She adores it, and it makes my life easier. I was close to a physical collapse the first couple of weeks. However, she tries desperately to please us and is becoming more and more amenable. Her formal training is my job.

 

Missy has doubled in size and is working on trebling. She is easier and easier to manage (most of the time). I must say she is the most hardheaded, obstinate puppy I ever have known. While she wants what she wants when she wants it, she also is trying desperately to please us. This is, in terminology I loathe, a learning experience for both (all) of us. However, make no mistake: I intend to be the Alpha Dog in the household.

I promise you, this is my last puppy. I’m too old for this foolishness, regardless of how much I enjoy it. I adore Missy, but the constant close attention to her activities and the physical effort are beginning to get to me. I calculate that with my normal house-to-office-and-back activity and taking Missy down to her grassy facilities, I do an average of eleven round trips on the stairs daily. No complaint. It is ideal exercise. Furthermore, it is easier than it was, now that she usually runs up and down the steps by herself.

My weight, normally fluctuating between a preferred 122 and a dismal 127, is down to 118. The first time I have broken the 120 barrier in approximately six decades. This blissful situation will correct itself, I fear, as Missy needs less attention. In the meantime, I am thinking of investing in some ice cream Monday. I haven’t let myself have any since I zeroed in on the extra pounds acquired in France last year.

 

From letter dated August 6, 1995

There is one major disappointment with Missy. She isn’t cuddly. From the very beginning she resisted being help unnecessarily. All of our other dogs have delighted in closeness. This is difficult for me. This week, she barked for attention just before the end of my soap opera. I wanted to see the conclusion, so I got down on the floor next to her and pulled her close to my side. She wiggled an inch away. I slid over. She skidded a bit farther. She licked my hand but did not want any closer contact. I suspect she has trained me.

 

From file written Sunday, August 13, 1995

I am suffering from a severe attack of “empty nest” syndrome.

We decided to let Missy stay outdoors with Amber last night. She is a fair size now, about 28 pounds, and is spending more and more time outside. What I didn’t anticipate was my own reaction. I sent her out after her supper. Normally, the two dogs spend the evening going in and out of Alex and María’s apartment. Then when they are ready for bed, Alex sends the puppy up to me. However, on Saturdays A&M have a long nap, then stay up till midnight.

Last night, of course, 7:00 pm was the last I saw of Missy. By 9:00, I was feeling distinctly deprived. Before I turned out the lights at 10:00, I was ready to go downstairs and retrieve her. I felt alone and discriminated against. After all, Missy is my puppy.

Morning made up for it. When I opened the back door to call the dogs, Missy bounded out from under the house and almost fell over herself in her rush up the stairs. We had a frenetic and lengthy reunion. It was pitiful to see how ecstatic Missy was to see me.

I realized that we managed the separation all wrong. Any night except Saturday, the dogs would have been back upstairs with me. I could have given them both an affectionate goodnight before putting them out. The way we did it, Missy must have thought either that her private bathroom and I had vanished from the face of the earth, or that I had turned against her. I’m obviously anthropomorphizing. We’ll manage better tonight. Missy and I both will adapt.

My ridiculous emotional response aside, there are certain advantages to having Missy on normal Scott dog routine. It is convenient to be able to use my own bathroom in the middle of the night instead of stealthily creeping across to the guest bathroom, trying not to wake the puppy. This morning, for the first time in weeks, I was able to sleep until I woke up instead of being wakened by a sharp bark. I did not have to bypass my own bathroom to take Missy out on a leash to use hers.

 

Yesterday there was a big fiesta of some sort at Memorial Park. Alex and I decided it would be best not to leave Missy out in the yard. I opened the door to the veranda for the first time since she has been with us. Missy bounded out, explored it a little tentatively, then apparently decided, as Bucher used to say, “she had died and gone to heaven.” There were cars and bikes and baby strollers and people going this way and that. She waltzed back and forth, securing the veranda as her private domain. She barked lustily at oblivious passers-by, whom she selected for such warning according to her own hidden agenda.

When, late in the afternoon, I retreated to my bedroom and closed the door, she barked in immediate reproof. I reopened it enough so she could move in and out, while I got my leg back in comfort on my pillows, watching The Capital Gang. She did not come back in until street activity subsided.

 

From file written August 21, 1995

Missy is one inch taller and two inches longer every day. She is a darling, eager, affectionate puppy. Last week-end, we let her start sleeping outdoors with Amber. We have two large dog platforms (shipping pallets) covered with rugs for them to sleep on. Missy sleeps on the cement alongside hers. María and I put rugs down in locations she prefers, and she rumples them up and pushes them aside. She also creaks every morning like an Elderly with arthritis.

After two weekends of being outdoors with Amber almost all day, we today started letting her stay outside full time. Until now, I have put her into her (my) bathroom/hall when I left for the office.

 

From file written August 23, 1995

Now about my adored Rottweiler—who isn’t!

When we bought Missy, I knew her muzzle was too pointed for the breed. However, I was absolutely desperate for a puppy to solace Amber at the time. I did not know the breed and thought females might have less blunt muzzle than males.

The first time we took her to the vet, he pointed to two small, barely distinguishable slightly paler spots behind her ears and said, “She shouldn’t have these if she is purebred.”

In another couple of weeks, she developed growing patches of longer, cream-colored hair in her “armpits,” with similar lighter hair extending into the black of her stomach from her hairless groins. A knowledgeable friend of Alex’s and María’s took one look at her and said, “She’s part Shepherd.”

The breeders raise both Rottweilers and Shepherds. I called and said that it was obvious there had been a mistake in the breeding. Both the husband and wife insisted it was absolutely impossible. Not that it mattered—by this time Missy was the light of our life even if she had been half-armadillo.

When I got home from my Morocco trip, I found that Missy’s muzzle was, if anything, even longer and more pointed. Her legs had taken on giraffe characteristics. She was almost as tall as Amber, though her body was still slim. She is not going to be heavy-set, I am sure. Alex says she will look more like a Rottweiler-Doberman cross (common here). She may end up very funny looking; so be it.

On the plus side, she remains the brightest dog I ever have had. She is a loving thing. Before I left, we started letting her stay outside with Amber more and more. She definitely prefers her independence, though both dogs are in and out of both houses at various times of day. Missy already is a fine watchdog with a surprisingly full, deep bark. Even as a puppy she was not shrill.

 

I never have had a dog that talks. Missy absolutely amazes me. I noticed it from the beginning, but now she has an elaborate “vocabulary” of sounds. I do not always understand what she wants, of course, but am learning.

I think the quality in her sounds varies according to the importance of the communication rather than to the meaning, but I may be wrong about this. Last night, for example, she was on the bed with Amber and me. (I have a special “dog sheet” so that they can be up while I’m working on my computer or watching TV.) She is just learning that she has to lie down and be quiet when she is on the bed. I gave her a toy to keep her entertained. After a little while, she sat up and began complaining. I assumed that she wanted to get down. My bed is quite high since I bought new springs and mattress, and I am afraid of her jumping off on her slim little legs. I lifted her down. She still was not happy. I finally realized that she had dropped her toy, and all she wanted was to have me pick it up for her while she stayed on the bed. She’ll educate me gradually.

 

Missy never has been a good eater. It has been worrisome from the beginning. However, she has appeared healthy with a coat like the richest satin. Since I returned from my trip, I have been working with her, and she now is eating about what I think she should. I have broken her of some of her spoiled habits and will deal with the rest gradually.

 

My real concern is Missy’s legs. I do not think they are as strong or muscular as they should be. I have started her on vitamin tablets. The improvement in her appetite seemed to coincide with that.

I talked to the vet about it earlier, but at that time it was just a matter of her limping like an arthritic when she first got up after lying down. He did not seem to think it was important since, once she got moving, she was fine. However, since returning, I see that she does not negotiate stairs as easily as I think she should. This is something I have to discuss with the vet again. I am hoping that it is a developmental phase, possibly due to her poor eating. Once she is out in the yard and running around, there is no sign of any problem.

 

From file written November 13, 1995

This past weekend was dedicated to Missy. She had her Intimate Surgery Saturday morning. The worst part was withholding her supper, breakfast, and water for 16-hours ahead of time.

I have worried about her weak hind legs for a long time. Most of the time she literally creeps up the stairs like an arthritic elderly dog. She limps after she has been lying down for awhile.

The vet, Dr. Tewes (pronounced TAY-wes), says it could be one of two things: hip dysplasia or something with a long name that is a matter of maturation. I’m betting on the latter. I probably will have to take her up to Central Farms, where they have animal X-ray facilities.

This is heartbreaking in a puppy, but we’ll do everything necessary for her. Meanwhile, I am marginally optimistic because she appears to be moving slightly more freely (except for her convalescence).

 

From file written February 12, 1996

Now about Missy…

My puppy limps badly. The vet has diagnosed it as probably being some long name that applies to a condition where a dog’s leg bones grow too rapidly, outstripping the development of the system of capillaries that supply blood to joints and cartilage. The cartilage literally dies, sometimes flaking off into little bits called “mice” that cause extreme pain with movement.

I have come to terms with the fact that Missy is a Rottweiler-Shepherd-Wolf cross. The breeders, of course, absolutely deny that their Timber Shepherd (35% wolf) possibly could have gotten at her Rottweiler mother. Alex calls her a Notweiler.

Her markings are Rottweiler, but the hair of her satiny black coat is longer than it should be. Her stomach has a layer of long blond hair, and recently she has developed short blond “feathers” at the backs of her thighs. Her head and muzzle are long and narrow like a Shepherd’s, rather than broad and blunt like a Rottweiler’s. She is about as tall as my Golden Lab Amber, but slim and rangy like a half-grown Shepherd.

Still, Missy is a pretty, loving little thing. Carli told me rather sternly, “Mom, it is time you got over the idea that you have to have a purebred dog.”

 

From fax sent June 1996

Missy is now slightly over a year old. She has filled out, has a coat so shiny you almost can see your face reflected, and copes better with her lameness. She still hobbles upstairs in the morning. Later in the day when she has been racing about, she comes up fairly well, hind legs pressed together hopping up step by step. I feel that the more she moves about, the more the muscles in her hind quarters will strengthen. I think she always will be crippled, but I am relieved there is no indication that she needs surgery.

 

From fax sent January 19, 1997

Pat Snyder, the wife of the captain of the Caribbean Prince, has become a good friend during the three years that Mike has been coming to Belize for the ship’s annual cruise season. She usually comes down with the ship and stays for a trip or two. This year she has stayed longer. She is a delightful person. We have many things in common, a main one being animals. For years, Pat bred and showed dogs, German Shepherds and Australian Shepherds (her favorites). Through the years she has known or owned a dozen or more breeds.

I brought Pat over to the house for a visit late one afternoon last week. She insisted that I let the dogs in. She thought Amber was a beautiful example of a Lab. She was entranced by Missy.

Pat had heard Alex and me refer to Missy as a Notweiler and asked what the mix was. As soon as I told her Rottweiler, German Shepherd, and Wolf, she exclaimed, “I should have known it from her legs.”

Pat says that Missy’s long, slim legs are characteristic of a German Shepherd/Wolf cross. And her (to me, pitiful) out-turned front paws, Pat says, are pure wolf, “though the angle is a little exaggerated.” Pat agreed that Missy’s head is typically Shepherd. As for the long, light hair on her underbody, Pat said that it is darkening as she matures, lies flat and is not objectionable, “but clip it if it worries you.” The idea never occurred to me. It hasn’t occurred to Missy, either, and I don’t think she would appreciate it.

Missy’s markings are excellent for a Rottweiler, and her body is typically heavy, especially compared to her legs. Pat thinks she is a lovely dog, exceptionally bright and independent. Pat has shamed me into going back to working with Missy. She says that with three months of work I could have a beautifully trained dog. “Missy is dying to please you,” Pat said.

She had been impressed walking down the stairs when Missy tried to push past her. “I just put my hand down in front of her nose. I didn’t touch her, but she knew instinctively what I wanted. She walked down quietly a step behind me the entire way.”

I am working with Missy again, in my inept way. I hope I keep it up. It isn’t easy when I’m working full time, studying German, and getting ready for my February trip to Europe.

 

From fax sent February 4, 1997

We took Pat and Mike Snyder to dinner last week. Pat was to return to the States a couple of days later. She especially wanted Mike to see Missy.

Both Pat and Mike commented on how deep Missy’s body is compared to her exceptionally slim legs. The longer Pat watched Missy and Amber, the more she noted Missy’s wolf-like behavior. Apparently, the way she throws one long front leg over Amber when she is sitting or lying down is exactly the way wolves play with each other.

The other day when I was working with the dogs, I had Amber in a Sit-Stay. I walked around the corner. When I poked my head back, Amber was still sitting as she had been told to do. Missy was sitting next to her with a leg draped around Amber’s shoulders.