When Prisoner was just over a year old, the neighbor announced she was getting married and was going to move. “You want this dog?” they asked. “Ummm we already have a dog,” I replied. “Well, if you don’t take him, we’re going to have to find a home for him.” Judging by their lack of interest in this poor fellow, I reckoned that his first stop on the journey to a new “home” would be the local dog pound. So we took him in.
“What should we call him??” the family asked aloud. “Prisoner! That’s what he was ya know. Now he’s free,” I said. “No… that’s no name for a dog,” said my Beautiful Girlfriend. “OK,” I countered, “
how ’bout ‘Lucky,’ ‘cuz that’s what he is don’t you think?” “No,” she said again, “we need a better name than that.” Everyone just paused for a bit. “Musky,” I said. “Musky?” asked my Lovely Bride. “Yeah, Musky da Husky,” I retorted with a smile.
It stuck.
Little did we know the challenges that awaited us with this abused child. Until we got smart about crating, he enjoyed chewing the seat belts out of our minivan. Similarly, if we left the house with Bishop and Musky inside, Musky’s separation anxiety would kick in again and he would rip down curtains and chew up things. Again with the crate… problem solved. Eventually we didn’t need the crates anymore, thank goodness.
But then there were other “fun” things, like buying the neighbors a couple doors down some steaks when Musky got off the leash and decided to kill their ducks. The second time he got into the ducks, it was around Christmas; so we bought a fancy gift basket of chocolates for their family. Those were the destructive challenges. It was also interesting to head him off at the pass when nice ladies would come to visit. This was due to his propensity toward sniffing both sides of a lady’s nether regions with a gently push of the nose into the target area. Some of my Beautiful Girlfriend’s more senior friends have commented with a chuckle, “Oh my! Haven’t been goosed like that in many years!” Eventually we got wise and would leash him when visitors came.
We also learned two important things about huskies: they are not very obedient; and they are NOT watch dogs. Bishop the Wonderdog would sound the alarm whenever he heard a door bell ring, or a slight tap a the door. Heck, he would even yell when there was a door bell ringing on TV! But the husky, ummm… no. And regarding obedience, not sure how the mushers work their teams but we often didn’t have much luck with training Musky da Husky. He did learn and understand the concept of NO!! But even that would take some doing at times.
One thing for sure though, we know he loved us. And he was gentle with the kitties, just like Bishop the Wonderdog. We often credit Bishop with teaching Musky how to be a house dog; because God knows he never listened to the likes of us.
Our vet has been so good to both of these guys over the years. Bishop left us 4 years after Musky came aboard. And yesterday, after much weeping and gnashing of teeth, we made the decision to send Musky to his Maker. Never an easy task, but at his ripe old age of 14 he was failing a little more each day. Seemed to be doing OK lately but he had vomiting and diarrhea the other day, after which he laid in bed for 2 days. We knew he would likely not get better, and other symptoms of a nearing of the end of a life well lived were evident for some time.
Our appointment with the vet was yesterday afternoon, and of course he got out of bed and was eating and drinking and sniffing about. None of that, of course, made this any easier, but we had made up our minds and had to follow through. When we got to the vet, she made the comment, “this is the end of an era.” She knows we are not looking for another dog.
God bless all of you out there who continue to take in pups who need a home. We feel we have done our share for now, and are really, REALLY ready to take a permanent vacation from dog parenting. Hopefully the People Upstairs will give us a break; but one never knows. We just pray we don’t have to do this again. As it is, we still have Never Anne, our 21 year old calico kitty. She’s not exactly the picture of health either. And then there’s Freddy the Freeloader, who we figure is about 4 or 5, so he’s just kid.
We will continue to love all the animals we have known who have crossed over to the Other Side. We love you Musky. We love you Bishop. We love you Oberdere. And of course we love all of you kitties: NoName, Silver, Babos, Grisby Anne, Pasco, Tuffy, Nurkey, SugarWoofer, Uriel, Midnight, Ebony, Candy, Colors, Stinker, Sweetie Bogel Pie, and all the others who are almost too numerous to mention.
My Beautiful Girlfriend and I have often remarked, “holy s#@! we’re gonna have a boatload of animals around us when we die!!”
So be it. Just please, no more puppies. Not now. Maybe later; but right now we hope not.
Anyway, there are a ton of pet videos out there on the web; but this one typifies the unique voice of a husky. They don’t bark much, they kinda yodel. Check this out.