Goodbye, Pongo

We always had purebred dogs growing up, and now I've owned two purebreds as an adult.  But there are great aspects to getting a mutt from the pound, at least that I've observed:

• Somehow the mix of genes seems to make them healthy, and smart -- not always, but often
• They're housebroken already
• Shelters do a good job (I think) of assessing dogs and finding the right fit for a family
• It's cheap
• It's a good deed

What other reasons would you need?

About 14 years ago Sheila (Rachel's niece) and her mom were living in a 3-flat on Brummel Street in south Evanston, not long after Sheila's graduation from Purdue.  They decided they wanted a dog, so Rachel and I took Sheila one Saturday to the "Orphans of the Storm" shelter in suburban Riverwoods.

The dogs were bouncing around in their cages as the people browsed by.  One in particular was jumping extra high, and periodically growling at the dogs on either side.  It resembled a slightly stocky coyote, with big brown eyes and a mouth that made it look like she was smiling.  I thought she also looked like quite a handful, but it's the one Sheila wanted.  After a smelly car ride back to Evanston (it wasn't me - honest!) we bathed the dog thoroughly and let her start to settle in on Brummel.

"Pongo" always seemed a little...untamed.  She had so much energy, and not too much patience.  She'd jump up on the couch to lay her head in your lap, but jump down to do something else after 5 or 10 seconds.  She was pretty aggressive toward other dogs early on, especially those smaller than she was.  I'm guessing it was the (probable) German Shepherd in her, as she just wanted those other dogs to go where they were supposed to, dammit!

We saw her a lot, as she seemed to accompany Sheila everywhere -- certainly whenever Sheila and Kathy came over to our house, which was often.  Pongo was oddly submissive towards me, crouching and pinning her ears back as she approached me.  (I don't have that effect very often...)  She grew to tolerate other dogs pretty well, and never once growled at a kid.

I was amazed at how spry she was into her teens, but she did slow down a lot in the last couple of years.  She had been deaf as a post for a while, her vision was pretty far gone, and she was starting to accumulate some other health problems, too.

I'll let Sheila tell the ending, from the email she sent out to a few folks today, titled "All Dogs Go To Heaven":

"At the ripe old age of 15 1/2 years old, I had to put Pongo to sleep yesterday. She had a great long life but it was time to let her go.

We had a quiet last day together that consisted of cuddle sessions (usually ending in tears for me), a couple short walks where she got to sniff whatever she wanted for however long she wanted & some laying in the grass time. Shortly before we went to the vet, Pongo had her favorite meal of roasted chicken followed by peanut butter for dessert.

Pongo enriched my life more than I thought possible and I'll miss her dearly. It's going to be a while before I get used to not hearing the patter of her paws in the hallway & I stop looking for her smiling greeting when I get home from work.

Thank you, Pongo, for 13 1/2 years of your unconditional love & companionship. Rach, please take care of her."

Dogs don't get to pick their owners, but Pongo could have done a lot worse, don't you think?

Pat