Herman on the Hill

Many people, those that are truly fortunate, have that one special dog, that one they connected with the first moment they met, the one that felt as though they were an extension of each other's personalities, the one they wait for at the end of the Rainbow Bridge.

For me, Herman was that dog.

Whenever I think of him or see an image of my boy, without even realizing it I smile, often shedding a tear. I don't know that I'll ever have another like him, and I don't know if I want to, he was that special.

After we purchased our first home, we visited a retired racing greyhound adoption group in the hopes of adopting a greyhound - one of the dreams we'd had since first being engaged. Since Charles was only interested in adoptable females, we were there to meet Miss Molly and one other little female. Adjacent to Miss Molly's kennel was a fellow named Herman, and there was a subtle magic about him that I noticed and I wanted to take home also, but Charles wanted to ease into pet ownership so Miss Molly came home with us.

Six months later, a male greyhound pup became available through the same adoption group and Charles expressed interest in him. When I inquired as to why a pup was acceptable to adopt, even with all of his health problems, but Herman wasn't, I received no reply.

I am stubborn, and once I've made up my mind, there's no getting around it. Charles, in his own way is stubborn too - but the reason we work as a couple is because we learned how to recognize that which is most important to the other of us and we bow to that. For Charles, this was one of those times.

I inquired in to the availability of Herman and found that he was still available, but that his days were numbered since he'd been up for adoption for nearly a year's time. Labeled a 'problem' dog who loved to chew and seemed stand-offish - I scheduled an appointment to pick him up. In passing I mentioned to Charles that I needed the truck (we only had one vehicle at the time) because I was going to visit the adoption group and that I 'might' be bringing Herman home.

Moments before I had to leave, Charles silently loaded the kennel into the bed of the truck and took his place in the drivers seat. After I took my seat we began a long and quite drive to the farm. After the paperwork was filled out, we silently loaded Herm-dogger into the kennel and drove home, and for the first time in six months I slept soundly with my dog on the floor beside me and my love by my side.

Dogger and I were inseparable. We looked to and for each other when I was at home. At the end of a long day at work I'd arrive home with my boy patiently waiting for me. When work required long hours of design work at home late at night he would be by my side, keeping me company and my feet warm.

He was always welcoming to guests at our home, but for me his tail wagged a bit higher, his ears cocked a bit more attentive and his eyes that much brighter. He'd 'roo' only with me and he couldn't 'sit' fast enough when I asked him to.

Once while at a 'meet and greet' we ran across one of Herman's trainers. Trainers spend most if not all of their day with the hounds during the dog's entire racing career, and they know each and every one on sight even years after the hound has been retired.

Upon seeing Herman, trainer Troy said, "That must be Herman. He was the most stubborn and destructive fucker I ever worked with." It seems that my boy hated racing, and destroyed every kennel he was contained in regardless of the material they used to confine him. While he was an incredibly fast dog, he would on occasion refuse to run during training sessions, which is a big no no for racing greyhounds. Ironically, we never saw a single indication that he had this destructive or stubborn aspect to his personality.

The month I became pregnant with BW was also the month that my beloved Herman was diagnosed with an inoperable form of lymphoma. He hadn't been feeling well, and had begun to have accidents within the house late at night. He was visibly 'shamed' when we'd find an 'accident', and he'd also begun to lose weight in spite of an active appetite. The cancer was located deep within his chest, we knew it was only a matter of weeks before we would have to say goodbye. His last meals were comprised of raw chicken and salmon, and it was by a miracle that with the medications we'd given him to control his discomfort we were able to have an additional four months with him.

His last day was an unanticipated series of tragedies, and he died in my arms while we were at the vet's office treating him for an accidental albuterol overdose. I was six months pregnant with BW, and Charles was out of reach, hiking the Grand Canyon on a once in a lifetime trip. Molly and I suffered the overwhelming loss of our dog Herman for three days before I was able to get in touch with Charles and let him know what had happened.

Herman loved the raspberry brambles in our backyard - and not even a single berry was harvested while he lived with us. He'd gingerly mouth the berries off the brambles and enjoy each bit of fruit as they ripened and use the brambles to scritch his back after a sun bath in the grass.

When were installing the raised beds for my garden he climbed upon the hill of fresh topsoil, dug himself a rill, settled in and was promptly declared 'king of the hill'. On the occasion when I'd lie upon the floor to read the newspaper, he would curl himself up within the hollow of my legs and there we'd lie until my legs lost all feeling or one of us had to pee.

His passing left a hole in the household, and it was three weeks later that Squirt became a member of the family. Though in many many ways she is eerily similar to my boy in looks and mannerisms, she is her own creature and could never replace Herm-Dogger and I'd never expect that of her. Nor would he.