A Legendary Dog

We gave him a gentleman’s name, but he was a bit of a renegade. As a surprise one day, our mom and dad brought home a six-month old puppy. He was a little, wooly ball of energy and my brothers and I were overjoyed. He was our first family dog and we argued over whose turn it was to pet and cuddle him and most of all to name him. I forgot who came up with the name Dudley, but it was unanimous that the name suited him perfectly.

Dudley was a wire-haired terrier, a breed The American Kennel Club describes as “Excellent Athletes, natural comedians and charming housemates” So true and there are so many other adjectives to describe him:

Stealthy and Swift

My dad barbequed almost every Sunday in the summer. He was an organized chef. He had shucked the corn and laid it on the table alongside the hamburger patties he had ready to grill on a sheet of aluminum foil. My dad came into the living room to ask me to set the table and by the time we got back to the kitchen, Dudley had devoured every burger and was sitting under the table looking winsome.

On another summer day, my mother put some greenish tomatoes on the window sill to ripen. This was an accepted practice BD (before Dudley) but Dudley scarfed the row of tomatoes without leaving so much as a seed behind so the practice was abandoned.

On a winter evening, my Aunt Martha had been invited for her birthday dinner and after arriving, she flung her fur-collared coat on a bed (another BD move) and as we dined, had cake, sang happy birthday, Dudley quietly chewed the fur right off her coat collar. Bits of the white fur clung to his black nose and mouth.

We soon learned to up our game. We now knew for certain that Dudley was smarter and faster than we were so we tried never to leave food unattended or shoes or clothes on the floor or bed. He taught us to be alert and tidy.

Marathon Runner

Wire-haired terriers were bred to hunt, primarily English fox hunts and Dudley loved to run. This was a time before dog parks and all of his runs were unauthorized. He jumped over our fence or dug holes under it to free himself until we Dudley-proofed the yard. His daily walks were not fast enough for him and he often broke free of the leash. He ran as though he had a purpose known only to himself. His eyes focused straight ahead, ears back, four paws off the ground, people got out of his way if they happened to be walking by. It was a beautiful thing unless you were the one chasing him. Most of the time, we got in the car with my dad as we searched the neighborhood for a sight of our sprinter with a box of his favorite treats to lure him back into the car.

Loyal and Loving

The incidents I mentioned above were only occasional and meant to describe his rebel spirit. Dudley lived to be nineteen years old and on most days, while not exactly obedient, he was affectionate, frisky and charming. He would lie across my lap for hours while I was in bed with the flu, a case of teen-aged angst or, more often, a good book. Other times, he would press close, his head on my thigh while I talked on the phone, or watched TV. Not surprisingly, he was a beggar at the table, a tireless ball fetcher, and an enthusiastic greeter of guests. Like many dogs, he often tilted his head to the side when you spoke to him or whistled for him. We often rewarded him with hugs and treats when he struck this fetching pose so he rewarded us by doing it a lot.

My family is still telling Dudley stories today and so do most of our relatives and friends who had their own encounters with our wily pup. He is a dog to whom I have measured all dogs since then. He is legendary.