Footprints

by Budd Glassberg

Reprinted with permission from the Zionsville Times Sentinel on April 23, 2008

Also Known as Vimar, the Millicent

“Dogs have given us their absolute all. We are the center of their universe. We are the focus of their love and faith and trust. They serve us in return for scraps. It is without a doubt the best deal man has ever made. - Roger Caras

Legend has it that she came to this country from Cuba. She was adopted by a family who returned her after only one month. The family had changed her name from Elian Gonzalez to Fluffy de Beppo. My little girls and I went to see her at a house in Whitestown where she had been returned because she was too feisty. She was a white and brown fluff ball who darted among us and followed us around the house. She certainly had spirit. We brought her home that night and renamed her Winnie.

My nine and twelve-year old girls had never had a puppy of their own. Winnie’s predessesor, Suki, was a year old when Josie was born. Suki was a wonderful dog. She understood over 200 words and very rarely showed a mischievous side. Winnie-dog was the antithesis of Suki. We had put up a baby barrier in our kitchen to keep our puppy out of the living room. The gate had been understood by Suki. Winnie, however, easily climbed over it to discover the pleasant taste of our couch stuffing when we left the house. Winnie, from the day we got her, had trouble with the English language, especially with words beginning with “N” and ending with “O”. I had never owned a stupid dog before. I was mortified to discover that Winnie did not even recognize her own name.

It was on a camping trip that we learned Winnie had a latent talent. Due to her smallish size, about 35 pounds, and her brown and white coat, other children near to where we were camping thought she was Wishbone, a dog of similar appearance who had a children’s show on PBS at the time. For the remainder of our trip, we called our dog Wishbone to the delight of all the children we encountered. To my surprise, Winnie had no trouble adjusting to the new name and appeared to actually obey more often when we addressed her as Wishbone.

Our veterinarian noticed Winnie shaking while on her examining table. She remarked, “Instead of Winnie, you ought to be called Weanie.” The new name stuck after the camping trip. It eventually evolved to “The Weaner”, a moniker she still goes by today at times. The girls had fun renaming our dog each week or so. Winnie went through a myriad of titles including, “The Republican”, Al Gore, Sarah Shifferel, Bush, “Vimar the Millicent”, Roselyn, and many others I have since forgotten. Through them all, our dog gladly accepted her new name and had no trouble adjusting to whatever we took to calling her. For the longest time, she thought her name might be “Bad Dog.”

Whatever the Weaner lacked in smarts, she has more than made up for in shedding. Her long thick coat tends to molt completely about every three days. Dog fur on our floor is the bane of my wife Maureen’s existence. Maureen was never a dog lover prior to her accepting my proposal. Winnie was legacy and adopted by Maureen along with the rest of our family. Maureen is not thrilled by the way Winnie smells, cleans her behind across our rugs, and avoids our wood floor and hits those rugs when she needs to empty her stomach. After our wedding, Maureen took to removing everything I owned from our living room (including the couch with the hole Winnie had chewed) and replacing it with something that was “not ugly”. There are only two items that remain from my single parent days. They are my THREE STOOGES FRANKLIN MINT COLLECTOR PLATE and Winnie’s dog cage. It is where I had to draw the line.

We don’t call Winnie’s cage a crate. One of the few commands she understands and obeys is, “Go to your cage.” She loves her cage and will go there on her own. She does not mind spending time in it. It is one of the advantages of having a dog who rarely thinks.

Winnie’s finest quality is her staying power. She is nearly twelve-years old and despite sleeping 20 hours a day, when awake she still acts like a puppy. Though I am the one who feeds her, exercises with her, takes her walks, and brushes her, Weaner still prefers Maureen’s company to mine. Early on she figured out who was the alpha in our home and decided to bond with her. Maureen reluctantly has come around to appreciating our dog and will admit to having some fondness for her.

I enjoy Winnie’s company. She has really grown on me. Since she does not think too often, I am accused of doing a lot of her thinking for her. That’s alright with me. I am in awe of what this immigrant from Cuba who, despite having English as her second language and an IQ no greater than a turnip, has managed to live a life of leisure in this great country of ours.

Budd Glassberg is a 23 year resident of Zionsville who works and volunteers in the community. Visit www.runz.com for reprints of all his columns. You can reach him by email at budd@runz.com.