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When
my husband and I found out we were expecting a baby, many of our friends and
family members said, "Oh, pretty soon Hamlet will be just a dog."
My immediate reply was, "No!
Hamlet will always be our first born."
At that time Hamlet was just over a year old and he was the light of our
lives. I
was lucky to have grown up in a family of animal lovers and I shared 16 years of
my life with one of the sweetest, most gentle creatures---a sheltie named Pasha.
When I was twenty-four I had to make that final trip to the vet with her,
returning home devastated and alone.
I was dog-less.
It felt right for awhile, not having a new dog in the house sleeping in
Pasha's favorite corner of the couch or running in the yard where the grass was
worn thin from 16 years of her play.
But as time passed and I moved out of my childhood home, the idea of
getting another dog soon took hold.
Unfortunately I was living in an apartment with a strict 'no pets
allowed' rule but that didn't stop me from dreaming and planning for the day
when I would no longer be dog-less.
What started as a dream quickly became an obsession.
In fact, last week I found an old box of cards that I had given my
husband, John, when we were dating.
One of them was an anniversary card.
On the inside of the card under the generic pre-printed prose were three
lines in my own handwriting. Happy
Anniversary. I
love you. Can
I have a dog?
I was lucky that John shared my love of animals and was just as anxious
as I was to get a dog.
Well…almost as anxious. After
we were married and close to four years after Pasha's death, I was finally able
to begin my search.
I had decided that I wanted a dog that was nothing like Pasha.
After all, there could never be another Pasha so I wouldn't even try to
replace her. I
was initially doing research on Jack Russell Terriers when I came across a breed
called the Basenji.
I had never heard of the breed but I was intrigued by what I read.
They were described as The Barkless Dog of Africa.
Quiet, elegant and graceful, they had the effortless gait of a horse and
the cleaning habits of a cat. They had no odor and they did not shed.
They were charming, intelligent little clowns who shed real tears when
sad and yodeled when happy.
Well, who wouldn't be intrigued?
John was intrigued, too. We decided that we would like a red and white
male and so began the process of going to dog shows, reading more books and
interviewing breeders. Hamlet's
beginning was not a heartbreaking or heroic one.
He did not rise bravely from the depths of misfortune, he did not suffer
loneliness in an animal shelter or escape a life of abuse and neglect to drop
warily on our doorstep in hopes of salvation.
Nor did he go on to perform any heroic deeds like rescuing kittens from
flood waters or alerting a sleeping family to a midnight house fire.
He came from a reputable, long-time basenji breeder and he went on to
become one of my best friends.
As cliché as it sounds he has brought pure joy into our lives. Of
course every moment with Hamlet has not been pure joy.
We quickly learned things about our boy that the dog books failed to
mention. Yes,
Hamlet was elegant and graceful but he was also stubborn, willful and demanding.
He had the effortless gait of a horse that could quickly, and without
warning, escalate into a frenzied burst of feisty energy.
True, he was intelligent but this trait could be a curse as well as
blessing as doors had to be closed, garbage cans put up and gates locked all in
an effort to avoid the clever mind of one scheming little dog. And
while he kept himself admiringly clean and odor-free, his grooming habits did
not extend beyond his own body.
Soft things such as pillows and comforters had to be torn apart and the
stuffing had to be strewn throughout the house, toilet paper and garbage had to
be finely shredded and littered about the room and no bed was allowed to stay
neatly made. Ask
anyone who shares a home with one of these creatures and they'll tell you that
it's almost impossible to make a bed with a basenji in the room! The
dog books never mentioned how a basenji felt entitled to all the luxuries and
conveniences that humans enjoy.
It was taken for granted that Hamlet would share our bed and
our pillows.
He never asked us if it was OK to balance on the back of the couch to
afford himself a better view of the squirrels in the yard.
He assumed it was his right to steal the warm spot on the couch if you
happened to get up for just a minute.
If he needed to jump up on the table to have a look around at the day's
mail or groceries well…that, too, was his right. Over
the past four years I have heard many basenjis yodel, (I have also heard them
howl and scream which taught me that they may be called 'barkless' but they are
definitely not mute), but Hamlet is not a yodeler.
We had waited anxiously for that first joyful yodel, conjuring up images
of a pig-tailed girl in the Swiss Alps, yet aside from the occasional squeak or
grumble, Hamlet proved to be a truly quiet canine.
However, during those first weeks after he came to live with us, John and
I received a crash-course in communication. This quiet dog seemed to say so
much. His
face--his entire body--was so expressive.
And we marveled at his uncanny ability to jump into our laps and gaze
unflinchingly into our eyes for minutes at a time. Our newest family member was
a charmer and well he knew it!
He could charm the ice cream right out of my bowl.
But then I guess I only have myself to blame for that weakness.
In those first few weeks with Hamlet we also learned all about basenjis
and rain. In
a nutshell…they don't mix.
Heaven help him if one of his precious paws actually got wet on one of
his morning trips out to the yard.
This made housebreaking a challenge on rainy spring mornings and gave
birth to one of Hamlet's biggest dilemmas.
To pee or not to pee? When
we first brought Hamlet home John was working a sales job during the day and I
was a disc jockey at a radio station in the evening.
This meant that Hamlet spent little time alone.
Before I left for work I would put Hamlet in his crate and tune the radio
to my station.
The first thing I did every night when I got on the air was say hello to
Hamlet. The
listening audience humored me and many of the listeners would call in to say hi
to Hamlet and request songs for him.
I think his favorite was George Thorogood's Bad to the Bone.
I don't know how Hamlet reacted to hearing my voice over the radio every
evening but I liked to think that it helped ease his loneliness until John
returned a couple hours later and let him out of the crate. Working
in the evening also allowed me to spend long days with Hamlet and I think this
is what forged such a strong bond between us.
On rainy days he was the perfect couch-cuddler and on dry days he seemed
to be up for anything I suggested. I took him for walks in different
neighborhoods, parks and forest preserves every day because I knew he
appreciated the variety.
He was also fond of car rides, trips to stores and visits to friends'
houses. I
would beam like a proud mother when people would stop me to ask questions or
compliment him. At
home I would often stop something I was doing to watch him.
I found it curious that I never tired of watching him. Over
the next year and for the first months of my pregnancy, life didn't change much
for our family of three.
Then I was put on bed rest for the last nine weeks of my pregnancy and
our lives changed over night.
I had to quit my job and we had to move in with my parents. Though our
little trio would never be the same we were well cared for and well loved.
Hamlet, with all his quirky ways, was accepted without question.
My mom never failed to let him lick the bowl when she was finished with
her ice cream, my dad took over my job of taking him on long daily outings and
both my parents constantly gave in to his incessant demands for belly rubs.
He was even allowed an occasional nap on their living room couch.
But during the 9 weeks of my bed rest Hamlet lost weight and developed a
nasty rash on his stomach.
He was stressed and upset.
Once in awhile I would look up from the bed to see him in the doorway of
my room, his intense gaze penetrating mine asking me what was wrong?
What had changed?
Why wouldn't I take him out on walks anymore?
He would stand there for a few minutes and then he would turn and trot
away. He
never came into my room.
He never jumped up on the bed and lay next to me.
If fact, he flatly ignored me.
I would call his name and he would turn his head.
Sometime I would see a faint twitching of his ear but then he would turn
his back and walk away.
Well, there was another trait that was never mentioned in all those dog
books I read--the Basenji's ability to hold a grudge. Hamlet's
grudge lasted for nine weeks and then John and I brought our son, Jack, home.
It was interesting to see how quickly I became Hamlet's best friend again
now that he felt threatened by this new being.
Suddenly he couldn't get enough of me.
When I was feeding Jack, Hamlet wanted to be in my lap.
When I was playing and laughing with Jack, Hamlet was pawing at my legs
and bringing me his chew toys.
He was suspicious of Jack for quite some time.
I think he was hoping Jack would go away after awhile but in the mean
time, he was going to make darn sure he was the most cooperative, charming
dog he could be.
John and I worked hard at making sure Hamlet didn't feel neglected and
ignored during those first crucial weeks of Jack's arrival.
We even brought him a gift from the hospital like we would have done if
we had had another child at home.
Hamlet was extremely curious about Jack and would stand on the bed and
peer into the bassinet while Jack was sleeping.
When Jack cried for his 2 a.m. feeding Hamlet would follow me into his
room and sit in the doorway until Jack settled down.
Still, it was a very fragile bond in the beginning.
Actually it was more of a wary truce on Hamlet's part.
As the months passed and Jack began to grow I think Hamlet realized that
this little person was not leaving and he resigned himself to this realization.
He began to put weight back on and glimmers of the old Hamlet began to
shine through.
By the time Jack was big enough to sit in a high chair but clumsy enough
to drop food on the floor, Hamlet decided that the newest family member was just
great. Eventually
our daily walks resumed as did the belly rubs, the car trips and visits to
friends. Our
lives and our priorities have shifted and changed with the arrival of Jack but
Hamlet is no less loved or cherished than he was that first day in April 1995
when we brought him home.
In fact, I still find myself putting down Jack's laundry or leaving the
dirty dishes in the sink to go seek Hamlet out and watch him for a few moments.
I can not pass him sleeping on the couch or lying on the bed without
bending down to kiss his warm head and tell him that I love him.
Jack recently celebrated his second birthday and Hamlet has yet to become
'just a dog.'
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