Hershey

If you know me at all you know I am not a "pet person". I can't understand having animals running around causing all kinds of problems, most of which create a disgusting backyard ambiance. However, I did fall in love with one little puppy who came into our lives years ago. We named her Hershey. I don't know why but that's what she was stuck with...

Hershey was one of a large litter of....mutts. Their lineage obviously came from all over the neighborhood. We had a chance to pick one out "for free", and if you have ever had a pet you know the phrase "for free" is meaningless. Our boys, Jamie and Cody, immediately chose the runt of the litter because she was cute. I could not for the life of me distinguish one little mutt from another but those two boys had to have the cute, little...runt. So Hershey came into our family. (This is another phrase I didn't get at the time. Dogs are not family!) 

Hershey was typical of all puppies when first separated from mom and siblings. She was fun to be with during the day. She loved the boys so much she would pee when she got excited. She was nearly always excited. The night time brought new problems though. I insisted Hershey be an "outdoor" pet. I will explain why I used " " on the word outdoor later. Hershey did not like being alone in the backyard at night. Night after night she cried, howled, and begged to be let indoors. I continued to go to the boys rooms to tell them their dog was being a nuisance and it better stop. After the first two unsuccessful nights I gave up on the boys and brought her inside, made up a bed for her next to our bed, and slept with one arm hanging down into the box so she wouldn't feel lonely. I threatened her within an inch of her life if she made a mess in the house and she listened. This impressed me and I began to develop a small ember of....like for this animal.

Before I go further I will explain "outdoor" pet as an adjective rather than a redundancy. I was raised in a family where pets absolutely never came into our house. They were outdoor only. This one rule wasn't my dad's rule. It was my mom's. She forbade animals in the house. If you knew my sweet mom at all you knew she rarely forbade anything. She was a hoot....but she did not like dogs, cats, or anything else she couldn't either ride or eat. We could have any pet we wanted as long as it wasn't a cat, bird, lizard, snake, or rodent. We could have a dog and we had several over the years but only one ever made into the house for a brief moment. Our poor little dog Handy sneaked in an open back door one day and paid the price. He ran out of that house just a bit faster than the shoe my mom had thrown at him while she screamed bloody murder. Us kids didn't even come in for several hours after that. This is how I came to believe pets were strictly for outdoors.

I married a beautiful young lady who loved pets. We hadn't discussed this particular conflict before the marriage so I had little to stand on when the arguments started. While we were still in a one bedroom apartment learning how to be a married couple I came home to find a really ugly little mutt sitting in my chair! Rather than the prescribed, "Honey! I'm home!", Debbie heard me yell, "Arghhh! Debbie, there's a stupid mutt sitting on my chair! ARGHHH!" This scared the little pup and caused her to pee...all over my chair. My hysterics grew much more alarming as I ran toward my chair yelling for that dog to get out of there. This caused the poor little urchin to do the other thing dogs do....all over my chair. We did not keep this little pup for long. Luckily Debbie found a suitable home for her. This turned out to be a blessing for the puppy because Deb had found her wandering around the construction area of the new DFW Airport. I never knew while she was out there because the new dog was all I was interested in. She found it lost, dirty, hungry, and scared. She brought her home, gave her a bath in our bathtub, fed her and groomed her. Then I came home and made Deb get rid of her.

As the years passed and and the family grew, Debbie always wanted a pet around. I would not yield on my rule of no pets in the house so she kept her little orphans outside as they came and went. This was until we got Hershey.

Hershey was without a doubt, the smartest dog I've ever met. I would swear she would understand and commiserate with me when I sat out on the patio and complained about my stupid career choices. She learned to never bark unless she needed to give us a warning of impending doom...like the trash men coming by. AND, the best feature Hershey offered was never even trying to come into the house when a door was open. She knew her place. While she was still learning about her new home though she ran into a few problems on her own. Our yard was a pet's delight. Trees, pond, shed, and toys inadvertently left outside were a constant source of entertainment for her. I had a nice stack of firewood stacked next to our two trashcans which were just inside the gate leading to the front. Hershey learned really quick that she could climb up the firewood, onto the first can, and then jump up to the larger can. Here she could see out to the front if she stretched her little body far enough. It was her special place.

One morning the boys couldn't find Hershey. They came in worried because they could hear her crying but couldn't find her. I went out back with them and sure enough, Hershey was no where to be found.....but we could hear her. Eventually one of the boys figured out where she was. She had done her normal thing and jumped up to the tall can not knowing that one of us had left the lid on crooked. She hit that lid and fell in as it flipped over and slammed shut. Poor little thing spent the whole night in the trashcan. 

Hershey also impressed all of us because she actually understood us when we gave her a command. I know she did although she never shook her head and replied, "You got it boss". She just did as she was told and she never had to be told a second time. One afternoon I was going to cross the street to visit with my neighbor George. The boys were playing with Hershey in the front yard but when I stepped into the street Hershey tried to follow me. I turned around and said, "Hershey! Stay!" And stay she did. She sat down at the curb and waited for me to tell her what to do next. George and I wandered off to his garage out back and I was there for about two hours. When I came home I found Hershey still sitting  where I had told her to stay. She was waiting for me to tell her it was okay to go on back to the backyard. My ember of like was growing for Hershey and now I was beginning to think of her as family.

Debbie never gave up asking about letting her pets roam inside the house. When Hershey won me over I gave in and told her she could let Hershey in but she still had to sleep outside in her doghouse. Debbie went to the sliding glass door and called for Hershey. Hershey ran up and stopped at the door. Debbie told her to come on in. She looked at Debbie as if she were asking if there was a trick involved. Finally she ventured in and the boys were delighted. They played and Hershey was good. No damage, no accidents so it became a normal thing to let her in to play. She never seemed too anxious to stay for long inside. After just a bit she would wander back to the sliding door and hint she would like to go back out. Hershey was turning into the perfect pet. I loved that little dog.

We were so impressed with Hershey we began to brag about her like a grandparent would brag about a grandchild. Debbie loved to demonstrate Hershey's obedience and "smarts" by entertaining guests. She would go to the sliding glass door, open it and say, "Hershey, in!" Hershey would come in and say hello to everyone. Then Deb would slide the door back open and say, "Hershey, out!"....and out she would go. One day the boys had some friends over and they were sitting on the floor watching TV. Debbie told them to watch while she went to the glass door, slid it open, and invited Hershey in. As soon as Hershey came in Debbie told her to go out. Then she repeated the process, inviting Hershey in to play with the kids then telling her to go back out. Hershey always obeyed immediately by running full speed at the open door but on the last demonstration of the day as Debbie yelled for Hershey to go out, she slid the glass door closed and poor little Hershey ran right into that glass door. She didn't get hurt, as far as we know, and that's the only reason I'm sharing that memory. We all laughed til tears came at the situation but then immediately the boys and their friends all ran to Hershey with love and kisses. Debbie did feel bad but even today if that story is told she can't help but laugh.

One holiday weekend we decided on a trip to the Hill country to see some of my relatives. Jamie had his first job so he had to stay home and promised to be careful, not let strangers in the house, have no parties, and take care of Hershey. On Sunday afternoon we got a call from Jamie. He was worried about Hershey. Something didn't seem right. Now, normally I would have gone on with my weekend and not worried about it but Hershey was family. We packed up and came home a day early. We got home and immediately went out to check on Hershey. We found her swollen, lethargic, and struggling to breathe. This was a Sunday night. No veterinarians were open. In a panic we found an emergency animal hospital in the next town over and took Hershey there. They thought she had been bitten by a snake so they treated her, gave us some pills to force down her, charged us a small fortune and sent us home. We fixed a bed in the garage for her and she seemed comfortable. She could at least breathe without difficulty. The next day though she was worse. We watched over her most of the day but by late afternoon we knew we had to get her back to that hospital. We loaded her up and got over there in a hurry. The doctor on duty was the same as had been there the night before so he knew what he was dealing with. We were escorted in immediately ahead of a couple other pet owners waiting their turn to see the doc. When they saw the shape Hershey was in they didn't seem to mind at all. 

As all four of us stood around that stainless steel table with the boys both crying, the doctor tried to figure out what he could do for Hershey. His aide was there as well and they were trying to figure out what to do while Hershey got worse by the minute. Her breathing became labored and she wouldn't wake up as we patted her and talked to her. The doctor finally told us our little dog was dying and there was nothing he could do. Now all four of us were crying (yes, I did cry for a pet). The aide and the doctor both had tears in their eyes as he suggested we go ahead and "put her down". I never liked that phrase but it made sense to me then. We had to help Hershey since she couldn't help herself. She was struggling for each breath. The doctor told us we should go ahead and leave while he did what needed to be done. I felt like I was leaving a close friend behind and I have a lump in my throat right now as I tell you about it. We went to the waiting room and mourned the loss of our little dog. When the doctor came out and told us Hershey was gone I couldn't bear to see her again. The doctor offered to have a service come get her and bury her in a pet cemetery. Now, I have never been one to spend money on an animal but right then I didn't care how much it cost. I wanted Hershey taken care of properly.  We agreed to have Hershey buried in this cemetery and paid the enormous sum of money to have it done. This cost, along with two emergency hospital visits in two days, cost more than I would ever have willingly spent on any pet for any reason....but this was Hershey.

A week passed after Hershey was gone. The boys and I had emptied the yard of all memories of our little friend. We gave the dog house away, threw away the food and water bowls, and I hauled off my stack of firewood where I figured the snake had probably been. Then we got a card from the cemetery owners thanking us for "trusting them with our precious pet" and advising us Hershey had been buried with dignity. Debbie and I both wondered if dignity was an act of kindness or the name of another pet.

I wish I had another dog like Hershey but I know I never will. Debbie still loves animals and wants to bring them home as pets but I don't allow it anymore. None of the later pets have measured up to Hershey's standards and Debbie eventually grows tired of them and gives up on them. I don't want to say "bye" to another little dog.....I'll say "bye" to cats all day long. I can't stand cats.