For the Love of Dogs
Taking a break from the “Heavy Stuff” in this week's op-ed
Issue #153 OpEd October 17, 2022
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People either love dogs or hate dogs, but I think most people love dogs. Keith and I grew up with dogs when we were children.
Keith had a little beagle named Frisky when he was a child. Poor Frisky died when Keith was in high school. He didn’t have another dog until we got married.
The Hilliard girls, on the other hand, had lots of dogs.
When we were young there were three dogs that I remember:
A black cocker spaniel named Chauncey. He first belonged to my grandmother.
A brown beagle mix named Tawn. My father came up with that name.
A German Shepard named Socrates. I think my Dad came up with that name, too. I do remember that when my youngest sister was about 12 and was home by herself in the family room watching TV in the back of the house, a burglar tried to break into the front of the house. He broke the window by the front door and stuck his hand in—big mistake. Socrates heard the window break, ran to the front of the house and grabbed that man’s hand, and held on tight. I think my sister was able to call the police, but that man got free and ran for his life. No one ever tried to break into the house after that.
A Miniature Schnauzer named “King Tut.” After he died, my parents never got another dog.
Oh, the dogs we’ve had since 1998!
Keith and I have had a few dogs in the 24 years we’ve been married.
When we got married, I already had a black cocker spaniel mix named Chelsea. Chelsea was actually my younger daughter’s dog, but after she grew up and moved away, Chelsea became mine. We had Chelsea until she died at about age 15. She was so loving and so sweet, and we were devastated when she died.
It took about a year for us to get another dog after Chelsea because we were heartbroken. But I finally went to the Michigan Humane Society and adopted a vizsla (Austrian pointer) mix who was about 10 months old. He was in the last cage and had the prettiest eyes.
When he knew he was being adopted, I swear he said to the dogs in the other cages: “Yo, dawgs! I’m outta here!” He was already housebroken! I got him for Keith’s birthday, and Keith named him “Jam Session,” because Keith is a musician. We had “Jam” for about 14 years until we had to put him to sleep when he was 15 because he had been suffering from cancer.
“Jam” loved to lie on the back porch in good weather. He could stay outside all day with his food and water. But one day, he had a visitor: another big dog actually squeezed through an opening in the gate and decided to join Jam on the porch. The dog had a broken chain on his neck, but nothing to identify who he was or where he was from. He was definitely part Akita mixed with something else; I still think he was part wolf!
Although he grew up to be quite big (over 70 pounds), he was extremely scrawny and not well taken care of when he first showed up, which was how he was able to squeeze through such a narrow entrance between the gate and the porch not more than 6 inches wide. I put him on a leash and walked him around the neighborhood, but no one recognized him. So after a couple of days, I took him to the vet who told us he didn’t have fleas or other parasites and just needed some “good groceries” and lots of love. After about a week of good care, he filled out and his fur was so soft and he and Jam got along very well.
At first, we were going to give him to my Dad, who was now suffering from Alzheimer’s. We even named him “Smitty” because my Dad’s hometown was Fort Smith, Arkansas. But we decided that such a big dog would be too much for my Mom to take care of while she was also Daddy’s primary caregiver. So now we had TWO big dogs!
Smitty was a very sweet dog, but one day, he squeezed under the fence and attacked the little dog next door. He didn’t mean to hurt the neighbor’s dog; he just didn’t know his own strength and he had a habit of squeezing under the fence to just go visit other dogs. Unfortunately, we had to put him to sleep. It was very hard.
Jam was lonely by himself after having a big brother for over a year, so we decided to get him a “little brother.” After the first terrier mix we also got from the Humane Society died, we got another little dog from a litter of a friend’s dog. “Pepper” is a Shih Tzu/Yorkshire mix, we call him a “Shorkie.” We adopted him when he was eight weeks old and we’ve had him now for almost ten years. Jam was old and sick by the time Pepper came along, but he was good for Jam in his last days.
Pepper is now our only surviving “fur baby.” I doubt if we’ll have two dogs at the same time again.
So that’s the long story that details our love of dogs. We will always have at least one dog in our home.
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