Chapter 3 ~ Loving Friends of a Canine Persuasion

(part 3 - Brandy)

Brandy was Carmon’s last dog and, hands down, his favorite. Our neighbors raised Vizlas. If you are like I was, you may not have heard of the breed; they have the same body style as a Weimer with a more racy paint job!  Brandy was the smallest in her litter and when she came home, a small, red ball of fur, Carmon was smitten with his worst case of puppy love.

Somehow we all endured the cry-all-night stage; the piddle-on-the-floor stage; and the chew-on-everything in sight stage of puppy hood.  Having gone through the purebred dog breeding several times with Tanya, I knew that I, for one, didn’t want to go there again.  I began to lobby for spaying the pup as soon as she was old enough.  Carmon had allowed me to have Freckles spayed, but he really struggled with having the procedure done with Brandy.  Even though he denied it, I think he had an idea somewhere in his mind that he wanted to find a mate for her.  As Brandy approached her sixth month (and her first season), I stepped up my campaign.  I might have been arguing still had not the vet stepped in and reassured Carmon that it was truly the most responsible and loving thing he could do for her.  After all, we reasoned, Carmon had seen Freckles go through the surgery with nary a problem. Finally, he relented.  Brandy could be spayed.

The day of the surgery he was as nervous as an expectant father in a labor room.  The surgery didn’t go as smoothly as we’d anticipated.  We had waited almost too long.  Brandy had already begun to go into her first heat, which complicated the procedure.  The vet finally released her to come home.  Carmon carried her into the house and put her in the special bed he’d made for her in a warm corner of the kitchen. 

As we watched her that first night, we gained new insight into the meaning of the phrase, sicker than a dog.  Brandy really was.  She wouldn’t eat.  She would hardly drink.  She barely lifted her head when anyone walked into the room.  That was the night we invented dognog, a drink of warm milk and egg, which was the only thing she seemed to be able to tolerate.  I didn’t know what else to do for her, but Carmon did.  He got his sleeping bag and pillow and hauled them into the kitchen.  He slept there beside her bed all night. That bond was never to be broken in life.

© Gebara Education, 2001.  No portion of this book may be copied by any method without the express written permission of the author

Picture of adult Vizla from http://www.dogbreedpicture.net

Picture of young Vizla from www.dogbreedinsight.com