Man's Best Friend

All my life, I wanted a dog.  As kids, we had different pets growing up--guinea pigs, hamsters, a cat, a turtle, a bird and others, but never a dog. 

In January of 2003, I took a job at KPAX-TV in Missoula, Montana, as a news anchor.  The move from Spokane, Washington was a difficult one--mostly for my oldest daughter who was a freshman in high school.  Among the things we told her to try to comfort her was "When we move to Montana, we'll get a dog."  After commuting back and forth from Washington to Montana for three months, we finally sold our home in Spokane so the entire family moved to the mouth of the Bitterroot Valley.  Soon afterwards, we went "dog shopping."

We visited the Humane Society, pet stores, and hit shelters in Missoula and in Hamilton.  After searching for a couple of weeks, we returned to the Missoula Humane Society where we again walked a dog named "Verde" and wanted to adopt him.  As we started to do the paperwork, we were told the organization only released its dogs as "indoor dogs."  I guess that disqualified us since we said we planned to keep the dog outside during most of the day.  The kids were heartbroken.

We also monitored the newspaper where we noticed an ad for puppies in the "free section."  It was a rainy day but we loaded the kids into the minivan and headed into Missoula.  The mother was a skinny Australian Shepard with different colored eyes.  To be honest, she wasn't much to look at but her puppies were beautiful.  There were about eight little fur balls of all different colors--black, white, black and white and other spotted combinations-- in a dog house.  The kids were in puppy heaven.  Each of them pulled out a different puppy to love.  Now it was decision time.  As each of the three of them stated why we should take their favorite puppy home, my wife saw a chocolate-colored brown fur ball still in the dog house.  He was a good looking little fella.  Instantly, he stole our hearts.  We thanked the owners for their hospitality, piled back into the van and headed for home.  I don't remember how quickly it happened but before we knew it "Snickers" was his name.  The kids took him to the downstairs bathroom, bathed him, wrapped him in a warm towel and loved him.  When big sister got home from school, she too fell in love with Snickers.

We kept Snickers in a big box upstairs during his potty training time.  I still remember hearing his baby barking in the night so I'd take him outside and sit on the front steps at 4 a.m. until he did his "business."  Whenever we left the house, he went with us.  We took him to ball games, to the park, on walks and on out-of-state vacation trips.  As he got older, he spent most of his days in the back yard, but did not play or even walk in the garden.  (What a good boy.)  At night, he snuggled up to the back of the couch in "his room"--the downstairs family room.  Snickers truly was a member of the family.     

      

Two of my daughters took him to dog training classes.  Snickers learned how to sit, lay, and how to be obedient while on a walk.  We also taught him how to roll over, shake, and how to fall dead after pointing a finger at him and saying "bang."  What's funny is, even to this day, he treats my son as a sort of overgrown chew toy.  When Snickers was smaller, he would chase a sprinting Jace across the yard, tackle him, jump on and start tugging at his clothes.  Snickers got his own presents on Christmas and received lots of love. 

  

(courtesy Sandy)

He ran alongside while jogging with family members.  While he never, ever enjoyed getting a bath (see picture) we later discovered he LOVES to play in the water.  One day while talking a walk along the Bitterroot River, we played fetch with him in the shallow reaches of the water.  He tentatively started going in a little deeper and deeper until we threw the stick almost across the river.  We could see the joy on his face as he almost seemed to say "Hey, look at me!  I can swim!"  That first time out, he must have fetched the stick on about 50 tosses.  He also loves to ride in the back of my pickup and have the wind blow on his face.  We take him into the mountains where we pick huckleberries.  We like having him with us so he can both explore and serve as a protector if any bears show up in the same huckleberry patch.  Usually, after exploring a bit, he just plops down among the bushes nearby as we pick, but the last couple of times we took him with us, we witnessed that he is indeed a huckleberry house.  As we would pick, we'd see him grazing among the bushes eating as he went.  Too funny!   

When it is cold out, he will curl up on his pad or, better yet lay at our feet if we're on the computer or watching television in his room.  Like his Montana family, he loves the outdoors, especially trips into the mountains to find a Christmas tree in the snow.



Snickers, defender of his backyard domain

Snickers is a prime example of "man's best friend."  And my good friend Snickers turns eight years old (56 in dog years) this week.  Happy birthday Snickers!  Thanks for eight great years and here's to many more to come.