The summer of 2005 was a hot one. My husband put up a split-rail fence around our entire back yard which must be about ½ acre. He did it all on his own, despite the half-hearted commitments a couple neighbors had made. Dave did everything from digging the post holes to concreting the posts to putting up the chicken wire. He did a professional job, in my humble opinion. The fact that he did not keel over from heat exhaustion or a heart attack was the added bonus.
Dave and I had discussions about getting a dog, now that Zach was a little older. We were by no means going to get one anytime soon because we could not agree on an age, let alone a breed or where we would look to get one. I knew that when the time was right, our canine would come into our lives, one way or another. Now that the fence was done, we would be ready, right?
Back in the days of a larger financial cushion, Dave, Zach and I would go out to dinner at least once per week, and usually go to the same place each time. We would go to Lupie’s in Huntersville. Dave could get his Bongo Burger (super huge slab of ground beef with everything on it) along with a G-Whiz (Busch in a can) for $1 each. I could get a piece of the quiche-of-the-day with a side salad and fruit. Zach would get his usual as well, a hot dog. Zach loved going there because he had a crush on the owner, and we loved going for the food.
After splitting the best banana pudding this side of the Appalachians and paying the check, we made our way out to the car. Parked next to us was a Suburban with 2 Great Danes peeking out of the windows, while their owners were getting out of the car for their turn to eat at Lupie’s. As the passenger shut his car door, I saw “The Great Dane Rescue” magnet sign on his door. I had been meaning to look into volunteer opportunities there so I took advantage of the situation and introduced myself.
The man was very friendly and told me his wife was actually the owner of the rescue. They were always looking for volunteers. He joked that I could even take one of the dogs home with me. I laughed it off and he proceeded to say, “We have more than just Danes, you know. We got Sheppards, Poodles, Boxers, a couple Labs.” He then turned to his wife walking towards us and said, “Honey, what kind of dog came in yesterday?” His wife replied, “A Great Pyrenees.” My eyes got as wide as saucers, and I gasped.
What were the odds? Growing up, my parents owned and showed, and sometimes bred Great Pyrenees. Our family pet, Paco, won Best of Breed at the Westminster Dog Show one year. I always vowed I would someday have my own. Unfortunately, pure bred Pyrenees sell for anywhere from $800 -$2000 a piece, and there was no way I would ever convince Dave to spend that kind of money. The fact the Great Dane Rescue had a Pyr who just arrived and I just happened to run into the owners was my sign. Dave knew it was my sign too. “Looks like we’re getting a dog.” I laughed. “Dave, can’t we just go meet him?” The Great Dane Rescue holds an open house every other Sunday afternoon for the public to come in and look at all their tenants available for adoption. The next open house was in 4 days.
At home that evening after putting Zach to sleep, Dave said to me, “Mery, you know if we go meet him, you are going to want him.” What did he know. It was completely possible that I would meet this animal and not connect with it. Just because he was a Pyrenees, a male, and already house broken? Please.
Sunday came and we were at the gates of the Rescue promptly at 1pm when they opened. I even had a friend meet us there to be an objective observer. We parked and walked over to where all the dogs were playfully meeting perspective parents. I looked all around, but no sign of a Pyrenees. I caught the attention of the man we had met a few days prior. He told me “Chuckie” was in a run and he would go get him and asked that we wait where we were.
I was so nervous. To meet a dog. What was the matter with me? I then saw the man as he was cresting the hill. Then I saw the leash. Then I saw him. A gawky, underweight, limping, shaved white dog. Were they sure he was a Pyrenees? They came over to us and I got down to the dog’s level. He jumped on me and we fell to the ground. I laughed out loud and at that moment Dave said to our friend, “Take a look at our new dog.” Why would someone let this fella get so undernourished and dirty and bald? I asked a lot of questions.
“My wife got a call that there was a Great Dane up in Statesville, NC who got picked up by Animal Control so we went up to get him because they are a kill shelter for animals under the age of 2. When we got there the guy asked if we wanted to take the Pyrenees too, since he was so sweet and his owner gave him up. After he escaped so many times from his home the owner decided he wasn’t worth the hassle. They guy at Animal Control didn’t have the heart to put him down.”
No question in my mind. Chuckie was ours. First order of business was going to be to change his name though. Chuckie? I think not. We changed his name to Kody, and I think he liked his new name too. He was our little bear and an instant member of our family.
Once we got Kody home, we set up an appointment with the veterinarian to make sure he was in tip top shape. Turns out “Chuckie” must have spent a lot of time on his own. Most of his teeth were broken from chewing on rocks. He had a nasty cyst on the pad of one of his front paws, and three (yes three) types of worms. Hookworms, ringworms, and roundworms. He was a mess. Thank goodness for doggie drugs. He was in much better condition after a couple weeks.
Here’s where the fence comes back into the picture. After Kody had been treated for his ailments, he felt much stronger. He felt so strong, in fact, that he was able to climb our fancy new fence and escape. So this is what he would do to his previous owner. No worries, the Blanks are smarter than the average Pyrenees. Dave went out and bought an electric fence wire to go around the top of the fence. After Dave installed the wire, he felt the need to test it out. “I am not going to subject the dog to anything that I wouldn’t be able to handle.” He tested the wire by touching it. Nothing. He then grabbed the wire and…ZZZAAAAAP! Dave was knocked to his knees. “It works.”
It only took one good shock for Kody never to try to jump the fence again. After a few months we turned it off all together. As most Pyrs do, he continues to walk the entire perimeter of the fence as a way to protect, or maybe e is just looking for flaws so he can escape. I like to think it is the former. That isn’t to say that he doesn’t still escape. Anytime a door is left ajar, Kody sees it as an opportunity to go explore. I cannot tell you how many times Dave and I have screamed at the boys for leaving a door open.
More than a handful of strangers have pulled into our driveway, opened their back door, and Kody came out grinning from ear to ear. One Saturday afternoon, a white Ford Explorer pulled into the driveway. I was watching Zach ride his bike so I happened to be in the driveway. A woman stepped out of the SUV and said, “You missing your dog?” Oh great, he got out and I didn’t even notice this time. “I am so sorry! Thank you so much for returning him.” The woman was laughing and said, “Actually, I was out helping my friend look for her dog. My back door was open and Kody hopped right in. He is such a sweet boy!” I couldn’t argue. Kody does like to keep us on our toes.
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