Call of the Mild

Call of the Mild

by Marco M. Pardi

“The better I get to know men, the more I find myself loving dogs.” Charles de Gaulle. Entre Nous. 1967

All comments are appreciated and will receive a response.

Those of you who read my previous post, Older Adoption, may be wondering if anything came of it. Yes. After considering a few dogs, including one from a rescue group that failed to inform me of multiple self-healed injuries to a particular dog (I found these with a cursory exam) and a history of biting, I had come close to giving up. But, members of my family kept pushing. One sent a link to a Husky rescue group about 900 miles west of here, and I decided to file an application. Having had seven Huskies and one Samoyed over the years I was hesitant to consider getting just one as they are definitely pack dogs. However, the rescue group which had her produced an in-depth and credible background discussion indicating she would do well in a one dog household. That, and her estimated age of five years, swayed me to make the trip.

Driving that far gave me plenty of time to reconsider what I was doing. Since I spend so much time alone having a living and interacting being with me would be a plus for mental health. And, since I have an array of “aftermarket parts inside”, as the tee shirt my daughter gave me announces, being required to walk fair distances on a regular basis would be good for me physically. But could I provide a happy home for a remarkably sentient companion? I’ve never been one to simply subject a non-human animal to servitude; years ago I dedicated myself to ensuring my military dog had as happy and enriching an experience with me as possible. We worked as partners, not as master and servant. So, given the lifestyle I now have I chose to adopt a young to middle aged female, less likely to engage in the signature Husky trait: ESCAPE. Still, this would require fencing the yard, even ignoring the existing partial fencing on neighboring yards. Mine has to be Husky proof. And with a large, wooded and hilly lot a seriously competent crew would be required to install a six foot, double gated privacy wooden fence.

And, as soon as I could get her home and receive her medical records I would take her to my regular veterinarian, famously the most expensive around but worth it in my opinion. How would I register her? Of course, I considered Siberian names but those are typically difficult for many people to grasp and I dislike having to correct people multiple times. I also didn’t want the Regime’s Immigration & Customs Enforcement (ICE) smashing down my door at night to arrest and deport her. Hmmm, Siberia’s status with Russia might endear her to the Trump Crime Syndicate. Oh, well.

I try to stay at one or two syllable names, even though she is purebred. No “Ice Queen Mistress of the Northern Mists” for her. One of my horses was a registered Quarterhorse with a name longer than his mane. But he answered to Hank. So, paleo-linguists will appreciate that I reviewed my understanding of Norse (the root language of Swedish and Norwegian) and chose Freya. Norse: Noblewoman. Pronounced FRAYuh. I Promise not to teach her Swedish; she will learn only English. Of course, she will take time in learning a new name and no one at the rescue group seemed to know her original name, or if she even had one. She was taken by a Sheriff’s Department in some arrest procedure and was bailed out by a Husky rescue group. There’s no indication she’s been charged with any crime.

So, especially given her circumstances, I checked her for submissive behavior, particularly toward males, and for aggressive behavior. Either could indicate a history of significant mistreatment. Her eyesight and hearing are excellent and I could find no evidence of hip dysplasia or esophageal malformation. Her teeth are excellent, suggesting a good diet history. And, she is neither paw or food aggressive. However, unlike other Huskies of mine, she growls demonstrably at some people. That’s unusual for a Husky; they usually give no audible warning. One of my Huskies, a male, strolled into a new vet office for the first time and swept the room with his ice blue eyes. Several other dogs of various breeds climbed frantically onto their owners laps urinating all the way. From that day forward the vet required me to call ahead so they could set aside a private waiting room for us. Some time later that same Husky stood still at the base of a tree and charmed a squirrel right down to inches from his nose. I convinced the squirrel to seek higher safety.

I don’t yet know how Freya reacts to firearms. Since almost everyone we encountered on the trip home and around the neighborhood displays the same response of wanting to come over and pet the “beautiful dog” I am cognizant of the strong traffic in dognapping. I happen to carry a licensed man-shredding handgun and hope I never have to use it on her behalf.

But, happy days and happy nights. I hope readers will consider adopting a rescue dog and providing a good home. Even without the crushing stress of living in these times, I’m sure you would find the rewards far outweigh any inconvenience. One day I’ll post some pictures.