Dixie Darling the Dog....The Female Version of Marley

Once Mr. Bingley had entered our lives, I was finished taking in any more strays. Famous last words. Dixie was a seven year old Bird Dog, Lab, American Bulldog, and heaven only knows what else. She belonged to my son but he left for an extended period of time. Dixie was left with my elderly parents who could not care for her. My daughter tried to rationalize by saying Dixie wasn't a stray since she belonged to family. Dixie had a sweet heart, but was more active than a puppy. She had endearing qualities such as shaking hands, but as my daughter pointed out, the hand shaking was a bit excessive as she felt the need to introduce herself every few minutes. She was able to walk on her hind legs for an extended period of time, which was rather impressive. Impressive or not, I felt like my little house was slowly shrinking. In spite of my reservations and my son away indefinitely, my mom enticed me by saying if I took the goofy mutt, she would have a privacy fence put in my back yard to make taking her out easier and to provide her with a place to exercise. The first day at her new home with us she managed to dig under the fence as we chased her around the neighborhood. She knew she was playing us when she got down on all fours with her rump in the air. As soon as we drew closer, she took off running sideways, looking over her shoulder and laughing at us.

Even though she had a shiny, black coat that felt as smooth as velvet, she was not considered a beautiful dog. Her stout and sturdy frame resembled a gymnast. Her bob tail was longer than the usual docked tail, but shorter than a regular tail. It was a half tail, we decided. One time at the dog park I was with Dixie, my niece, and her beautiful, sleek Doberman. Everyone "oohed"  and "ahhhed" over the Doberman and her lanky legs, but no one seemed to know how to compliment Dixie. Finally, when about the fifth person exclaimed over the beauty of the Doberman, he turned to Dixie and said, "Well, you're... different." The was the best we could hope for. Even my daughter who loved Dixie the most said, "I always think she looks cute until I take her to the dog park and see her beside the other dogs."

She and Bernie seemed to get along, Abby was in my room so that was not an issue. Two of the three white kitties, Edward and Bella in particular, were their usual skiddish selves. Elmar, Mr. Personality was curious, and the unflappable Mr. Bingley dismissed the newest addition as if she was gum on the bottom of some one's shoe.

Dixie had many short-comings. One already mentioned was that she still chewed like a puppy. Anything, in particular plastic, paper, cardboard or wood was as enticing to Dixie as nuts to a squirrel. When it came to people food, if someone valued their meal or snack, they would not leave it on the counter unattended. If this happened, they returned to an empty plate and a black dog innocently licking her chops. Dixie's car riding was eventful at the very least. She had no self-control and could not contain her excitement. For one, she couldn't keep her balance and toppled over when the brakes were applied. During the drive she felt the need to assist in driving and helpfully put a paw on the steering wheel. On several occasions she managed to flip on the turn signal and sometimes bumped the car into neutral. A prayer of thanks and a sigh of relief was given after each trip.

In spite of her many flaws, she did have some endearing qualities. She sat with perfect posture like a flesh person sitting at a piano or keyboard. At night she slept in bed with my daughter like a human, head perched on the pillow and the rest of her body under the covers. Another endearing quality was how incredibly happy Dixie was when she was outdoors. We frequently took her to a nature trail nearby, and when no one was there we would turn her loose. She was as estatic as someone who had just won the lottery. She loped ahead of us with her lopsided gait, then ran back to tell us all the wonderful things that were ahead for us to see. Being a former hog dog, she couldn't resist the urge to thrash through the swamp, and she usually came out with leaves and moss clinging to her muddy fur.

Five cats and two dogs was more than plenty for my daughter and me. Once I adjusted to the newest addition, my life should go back to relatively normal at last. Or so I thought...