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Now you have made me smile.
“Cat and Mouse”
Just like human kids, Brandy only got called by her real name when she was in trouble. She had about a dozen nicknames, but several were more commonly used.
The picture I posted is the pure manifestation of her “Mouse” persona. We also called it Pink-Ears because she would lay her ears back and put on the sweetest face you could ever imagine.
This was the Brandy that the vets and techs saw. She only used it when she was scared insecure or really wanted you to love her, or really wanted you to do something. It was often accompanied by rolling over and exposing her belly, and when she was younger – fear peeing. We usually saw it no more than once per week.
She could transition out of Mouse and into Cat very quickly. “Brandy-Cat” was purely dominant and could also be aggressive.
One time we were hiking in the bush when her snout went off and she started her low burbling. The noise she made wasn’t a growl and wasn’t a bark, but she alternated sucking in and blowing out using her cheeks in a menacing fashion. This one turned out to be a black bear with cub 50 feet down the hill in some trees. All wild animals (coyote, bear, deer, and all birds) got to see the Brandy-Cat.
Note that this was after she went blind. Before that she was mostly sight focused. She was pure predator and did not tolerate “wildness”. We always trusted her judgement when she made that noise.
One of the symptoms of Addison’s Disease is “heat-seeking”. If Ripley lied in one place for awhile, invariably Brandy would evict him from that spot by poking him with her nose. Then she would take over the warm spot and usually demand to be covered with a blanket. This was also the Brandy-Cat. Ripley is likely enjoying being able to sleep in one spot for more than an hour.
A slight variation on Brandy-Cat was “B-Cat”. B-Cat was probably closest to her real personality and true self. She was confident, demanding of attention when it suited her, unwilling to tolerate things that annoyed her. It is also what I saw when she slept, when she growled at Ripley because he snored too loudly, when the neighbor Pug walks by and snorfles, and when anyone jangles keys.
…to be continued…
Brandy is a Field Pointer, which is the American version of the English Pointer. The main differences are that the the Field Pointer is smaller, the tail points up like many hounds instead of directly back, and temperament – Field Pointers are bred for massively high energy for hunting in the field. They tend to live in runs with many other dogs and are not socialized to live with humans. They are by most measures, a terrible pet.
Of course I knew none of this when I got her. I found the scrawny 6 month old 29lb “Mouse” at a no-kill shelter in Washington state. We all thought she was an English Pointer without papers – she sure suckered us. As you can imagine, she used her special powers on me even as a youngster and I was powerless to resist.
But let me back up. Ripley was now a year old and was suffering from significant separation anxiety. My wife and I both worked during the day. We both worked within 5 minutes of home and Ripley got 3 runs per day – one or both of us came home at lunch every single day, but this wasn’t enough. We figured that he needed a buddy and started looking for a short haired sporting breed that could keep up with him and us. Enter B-Cat.
I took a week off work and drove across the border to pick her her up. She had just been spayed that morning and was very groggy. I laid that tiny pup in the kennel in the back of my truck and drove home. I called ahead to my wife and suggested that Brandy meet Ripley out on the field where we normally exercise him instead of at home. My biggest concern was that he would dominate and intimidate her because she was so timid (Ha!).
I put her collar on and walked her over to the field. As I passed through the trees to the opening I could see my wife and Ripley up on the rise.
Brandy made a hard point. I don’t know if you have seen a true pointer point, but it is something special. Every muscle is in full flex and the pointer becomes an absolute athletic specimen. She wouldn’t move. I assumed she was looking Ripley, but that wasn’t it. As I coaxed her a few steps she turned and pointed to the right. About 50 yards away I noticed a hummingbird on a powerline. This was the start of our exposure to BCat’s relationship with birds (and another reason she was the “Cat”).
We didn’t think she had any formal training, mostly because she knew absolutely no commands and was entirely out of control. Knowing her as I do now she very well could have had daily training and you couldn’t be able to tell.
Brandy’s hard point was really the only time in her early life when she was under control. It was a longstanding joke because every day there would be birds flying in and out of the blackberry bushes and she was compelled by an invisible force to point them. As we walked away to continue our journey she was torn between holding the point and staying with the pack. Her compromise was to develop a stiff-legged walk at a snail’s pace to try to resolve the conflict. It didn’t really help much but it made for a humorous break to the day.
So Brandy met Ripley at the top of the grassy knoll that day in April 2003. She walked up to him, sniffed him for a short while and proceeded to completely ignore him and go looking for birds.
Ripley was ecstatic. He has always wanted to be a mother and have a baby of his own (still does). Ripley has a very short tail and similar to a short pendulum, it wags very fast. I’m pretty sure he sprained his tail that day.
When we reached home Brandy marched up the stairs, found Ripley’s dog bed and claimed it. So much for the timid Miss Mouse.
They were inseparable after that day. Brandy would often lie on top of Ripley making seal like noises and they would spar like that for hours. Neither dog ever actually made contact ever, even accidentally. In fact Brandy would eventually fall asleep on top of Ripley on the bed.
Next up is “the rope and the tennis ball”.
Funny. The day after Brandy passed I told my wife that I wanted to write a book, not for other people but just so that I never forget. I’m glad you enjoy her story.
Yesterday was brutal. I slept in until 8am. That may not sound like much but Brandy’s up time was 5:30 and we didn’t get a say. As a pup she would launch onto the bed like a flying squirrel and if you didn’t respond she would attempt to burrow under until it ended in a sneezing fest. If you got her to sit and rubbed her sternum or the little fleshy bit at the back of her elbow she would sit patiently for as much as 10 minutes. You didn’t dare stop rubbing though or face the wrath of burrowing dog.
My wife took Ripley out yesterday morning and headed off to her regular exercise activity at 6am. I finally woke up at 8 and in that instant fully expected to hear Brandy’s foot stomp down the hallway demanding attention.
The realization hit me and I fell into a funk that I couldn’t break out of. Being alone for most of the day didn’t help and eventually I just wrote the day off committed to try again tomorrow.
Today is a better day.