"My Hound"

     Pet owners are usually categorized as either dog people or cat people. I had thoroughly convinced myself that I was content being neither one. Life is like that, just when you're used to one way of viewing the world a change-up pitch is sure to come at you.

     Six years ago this past October my family and I moved to Noblesville, Indiana. It's about 17 miles northeast of Indianapolis. It has been a good move. One of the first improvements we made on our home was to fence in our backyard. Shortly after we moved here, we decided that our boys were at the right age for a dog. Actually, I have that backwards. We obtained our dog and then we fenced in our yard. This was an early indication of just how much influence this new pet was going to have on our lives; both economically and emotionally.

      My wife and I mulled the idea over for a few days. I had told Beth that when I was little my family had a Basset hound named Mortimer--we called him Mort. Sadly, when I was younger, I suffered from allergies and we were forced to get rid of Mort.

        It's still a mystery to me, but somehow, my choice was honored--this mystery haunts my wife to this day. One February morning, Beth checked out the Indy Star's online classified section. We found a Basset hound at a cost that we thought reasonable. Later that day, we were on our way to Bargersville, Indiana to pick up our new puppy. Even though I think of Beth and myself  as relatively intelligent people, we often tend to be impulse buyers.

      I hate to be cliche', but it was love at first sight. Mort wasn't like most other Basset hounds. He was white with tan markings. Most Bassets tend to have three colors--usually brown, black and white. His ears were, and still are, not as big and floppy as other Bassets. He was not as long as most either. People would often ask us if he was a beagle. Like I said, we all fell in love with him instantly. It was a brief, but blissful honeymoon.

     The first year and a half were a bit rough. Barking, night whining, chewing, and house breaking were trying times, but we survived. Surprisingly, Mort survived it too. His early escapades were not as cinematic or destructive as depicted in Marley and Me; although there is a very funny incident involving three dozen chocolate chip cookies that were intended for my youngest son's classroom party on the last day before Christmas Break. I think I'll save that for another blog.  As I was saying, we all saw Marley and Me. The timing of it definitely worked in Mort's favor.

     Speaking of movies, here comes a plot twist. Mort was intended to be a pet for our sons, but that's no longer the case. He's  all mine. Mort is, as I often call him, "my hound."

        The boys love him and Griffin feeds him his evening meal, but he and I are buddies to the end. People that know me can tell  you that I'm a total geek for movie lines. I use them to greet Mort in the mornings and when I come home in the eveninngs. These are just a few of my favorites along with the movies they come from:

•  "I see you, Mort." -Avatar
• "Did you bark at any body today?" -Rocky II
• "You can say what you like about my wife and kids, but I'm going to have to ask you not to talk about my dog."- a paraphrase from Hidalgo

     Winston Churchill said, "There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man." I think that reflects how I feel about Mort. I'm often the first one up and the last one to go to bed. Mort is usually there to keep me company. He's not much for conversation, but he makes up for it by being a hell of  a listener.

      Occasionally, I feel bad because I sometimes think that  Mort deserves a better owner. I could be  much more attentive. He deserves to go on more walks. I often scold him when he is under foot and nearly causes me to trip. Think about this. Is there any other creature that you can put in a cage for 8 or 10 hours and when you let him out he is thrilled to see you?

     I try to make up for it in other ways. Mort never gets into our bed when we go to sleep, but most mornings he wakes up there. This usually occurs in the wee hours of the night after Mort has woken me so that I can let him out. I know his unconditional love and loyalty deserve more, but I think he knows how I feel about him.

       To be clear, I am not one of those that look upon their pet as a person, but he is a true companion. It's also very hard to deny the strong resemblance. By the way, "Mortimer" is an Old French word for "still water." It seems to fit.

      Thanks for your time and please visit again.