From Saruman to Nyshia

From Saruman to Nyshia

Nyshia

Nyshia took more baths in our first six months together than she did in the next six years. Nyshia was my first dog and while I have always loved dogs, I've never been particularly excited about bathing them. We always had dogs growing up, six of them to be exact. Sam, Sport, Penny, Mickey, Gabby, and Mandy. Not all at once of course but rather one at a time. Three of them left us early for various reasons and the other three were with us to the end, or rather their end. I love the way a dog bonds with you, how they are always happy to see you whether you acknowledge them or not. They are the perfect example of unconditional love. One of the very few “bucket list” items I ever had was to have my own dog.

I was living in Eugene with the Barrington Gang when I decided to get my first dog. Well, that's not completely accurate as I had a dog briefly with Donna when we were living in Yuba City but she either had or caught distemper just after we got her. Of course we didn't know what was wrong with her at first and by the time we found out it was too late, although I'm not sure any dog survives distemper once it sets in. We had her for less than two weeks. Since then I'd resisted getting a dog because my living situation was so fluid. Seemed like I moved every year or so, usually had roommates, and was a renter. All that meant I would have a difficult time finding a place to live with a dog. Although I suppressed my desire to have a dog, I still thought about it.

Pets were allowed at the place we (me and the Barrington Gang) rented on Villard Street. Valerie had previously had a dog at the house. She had brought home a big lovable hound mix she named Saruman, I think from Tolkien's “Lord of the Rings”. Saruman could be a handful as he certainly had that hound-like stubborn side. He had a bit of energy but he also had an easygoing personality. You had to love him. He loved food and heat. He actually sat down in the fireplace while we were burning a fire in it one time. I thought he'd jump out but no, he just stayed there. We had to pull him out and brush the embers off his backside. I realize pretty much all dogs love food but I never met a dog that loved food as much as Saruman. His quest for food was all consuming. Our current dog Fudge is hugely food oriented but he is no Saruman in that regard. Saruman was tenacious about scavenging for food. He got into a fast food place's dumpster down the street a few times and came home with a full and bloated belly. He was always on the hunt. When we were getting ready for dinner he would need to be watched whenever any food was on the table. It was no easy task. If he could talk, our conversation might have gone something like this: Me: “Saruman do not take that food”. Saruman: “Why not?” Me: “It's mine and I will punish you if you do”. Saruman: “I'm OK with being punished.” Me: “Well then, I will kill you if you do.” Saruman: “If I can have the food first it's a deal.” We threw a party at the house after we all moved in and I made some marijuana brownies. Unfortunately I made them a bit too strong. It kind of ruined the party as everyone who had one just sat around “zoned-out” or left. Valerie was not pleased and threw all the leftover brownies into the trash. Saruman, always vigilant about what goes in the trash, discovered those all-too-potent brownies and ate them. Poor dog, he hardly moved for two entire days but he recovered nicely. However, I noticed that he kept his distance from anyone smoking pot after that. Valerie ended up having to give Saruman up as he was just too big and rambunctious for her and our small yard.

Having Saruman around rekindled my desire to have a dog of my own. I did some research about what kind of dog I wanted and came to the conclusion that a Norwegian Elkhound was the dog for me. I liked the way they looked and they had a lot of traits that appealed to me. They are known to be bold, energetic, even tempered, sensitive, and protective but non-aggressive. They are also one of the oldest dog breeds. There was one problem: they were costly. Undaunted, I looked around anyway and finally came across a woman who was selling Norwegian Elkhound puppies cheap right in town. I went to see the pups and inquired why she was selling them at such a low price. The owner told me it was because she had 11 puppies and they all got some sort of staph infection. This resulted in having to keep the pups a month longer than she had planned before she could sell them. Between the high vet bills and the dog food she was running out of money and consequently needed to sell off the pups quickly. The pups were just about over the infection but they didn't show well for a purebred dog as their coats were a little spotty from the infection. I spent most my time checking out the mother of the pups. She seemed like a very sweet and gentle dog. I then looked over the pups and picked out one. I was told that the pup I picked was the runt of the litter and was also the feistiest. Supposedly she would push all the other pups away to get something she wanted, especially dinner. I had already decided I liked her and she felt like the one for me. I've always been one to trust my instincts so I paid the low price of $45 which included the AKC registration papers and I now had myself a genuine purebred Norwegian Elkhound puppy. The puppies were still recovering from the infection so she gave me some herbal soap mix and informed me that I needed to bathe my dog with it once a week for the next 4 weeks and then slowly taper off after that. Seemed like I spent as much time bathing her as I did training her.

Nyshia with coat coming back but still a bit spotty

I named my new puppy Nyshia. How did I decided on that name? I'm glad you asked. Her real name was supposed to be Dionysus. Dionysus is a Greek god that is the equivalent of the Roman God Bacchus. It seemed like a good idea to me given Backus is my last name . But when I started to use it I realized it was too many syllables for a dog's name plus Dionysus is a male God so I shortened it by taking off the front part of the name and then I changed the ending to make it sound, at least to me, a bit more feminine. I ended up with Nyshia. Of course I ended up shortening it again as I usually called her Nysh when I talked to her. Later my brother and I started calling her Ichi but that's a story for later....

I was given some of the dog food that Nyshia and the rest of the pups had been eating. Nyshia and her siblings had been eating both canned wet food and dry kibble together. I decided that I was not going to be using canned dog food. I did not want to deal with cans and besides I liked to hike and backpack and I planned to have Nyshia with me. She would be limited to dry kibble on those trips so I thought it best to keep things simple and consistent. Dinner time arrived and I put some of the kibble I came home with in a bowl. Nyshia took a quick look at the kibble and decided it wasn't for her. I just left the food figuring that she knew where it was and would eat when she was ready. Maybe being in a new place and being away from her mom and siblings affected her appetite. The next morning she still had not eaten any of her food. Evening came and she was still holding out. Evidently she was on a hunger strike. I was getting a little worried but she seemed to be doing fine so I decided to see how things went the next day. I had a morning class that day and when I returned Valerie greeted me cheerfully telling me she got Nyshia to eat. She saw the can of dog food in the kitchen that I had brought home and decided to give it a try. When she opened the can Nyshia became very interested. Valerie put it in the bowl and Nyshia ate it right up. Ah-ha – so that was the story. Since the dogs were given both the kibble and the wet food together I realized that Nyshia always pushed her way to the front so she could eat the all wet food. Since I was doing the food buying and, at least in theory, I was the leader of the pack, I would be the one to decide on the dog food and that dog food was going to be dry kibble. So kibble went back into Nyshia's bowl and Nyshia went back on strike and the “Great Kibble Stand-off started all over again. Nyshia put up a good fight. She held out for two more full days but on the third day she had her “come to Jesus moment” and ended her strike. She ate the kibble and she continued to eat it from then on.

Spotty coat and all, Nyshia and I were now together. Her coat came back quickly and I took her everywhere I could. Nyshia was a special dog, the kind of dog everyone notices and likes. I loved having a dog in my life again. It was wonderful to have my very own dog.

Nyshia two years later