It was early March 1994
It was a warm, sunny, Texas mid-spring day, and I had to work, as usual.
Around noon, short before my lunch break, the telephone rang, and a frantic friend of mine asked me to stop by her house, she needed help. Of course I asked her what it was, and she said "a puppy".
I went to see her, and she explained that she had found a little pup in a box in her driveway. A feisty little critter, she said, who had nipped fiercely at anything and anyone who tried to get near him. She had placed him in a small
partition in her back yard. Letting me out through the back door, Kathy warned me that he was not the cleanest animal.
I looked around the partition, a low chicken wire fence Kathy's husband had set up for when friends came to visit with their dogs.
And -- there he was -- a tiny little blackish, brown, beige ball of energy, no bigger than my hand, tumbling around his prison, curious, and angry, and... lonely.
I stepped over the fence and stood there. The fur ball came towards me, yipping ferociously, and stopped a good four feet away from me, growling the cutest little puppy growl I had ever heard. He was making sure I took him seriously.
So I sat down in the grass. His fur was matted with stickeries and mud. He was a pitiful sight, but I averted my gaze, and pretended to not pay him any mind. Within about 3 minutes, he had advanced to
sniff me out, his tail low, almost tucked under, ears laying flat along his little head.
His eyes were turquoise green, a beautiful color (which over the time turned into a golden light brown). I had to concentrate very hard not to stare at them, I was fascinated. So much like a wolf pup's eyes, I thought they were miraculous.
Still not having moved, I felt something wet. The pup had started to lick the inside of my wrist - a habit
he kept into adulthood. Very slowly, inch by inch I took my weight off that arm, and turned my hand palm up. Moving his cold little wet nose along my hand, he found my finger, which I had curled up a bit, and started to suck on it, urgently, poking at it impatiently when nothing came out.
I figured I might as well try... and I gently and very slowly scooped up the little devil in my hand, and placed him on my chest.
He started to poke at my neck with his nose, making little sucking noises, sniffed all along it, and without warning, let out a big sigh, a yip, and fell sound asleep. There I sat, well into my lunchtime, with a sleeping pup nuzzled up against me.
Kathy was amazed. She had not been able to get near the pup without being nipped at and bitten by the sharp little fangs, and here I was sitting, with the same fierce critter asleep in my arms.
Well, I took him home, flea infested, and starved as he was. I figured I could clean him, get him to a vet, make sure he got some meat on his meager bones, and find him a good home.
There was no way I could keep him, since I already had a Doberman, Zack, (who since went on to happier hunting grounds) and a boxer/lab mix named Sheba.
Well, the vet looked at him that evening, and figured Zeus was a shepherd mix of some sort, about 4 or
5 weeks old, and healthy, aside from the fleas, which we got rid of within a week.
Within a month, Zeus turned my world around, or should I say upside down.
My shoes... pairs turned into singles... anything chewable, including my solid oak living room set had curiously rounded corners where ever Zeus' teeth could reach, my throw rugs were never where they belonged, and sported new aeration holes throughout.
My bedroom is upstairs. Zeus refused to go upstairs, so he had to sleep outside, because I refused to leave him in the house as my other two dogs, for obvious reasons. His lungs had become strong, and I was grateful to have understanding neighbors, because that pup could yip the best out of their sleep. Loneliness was not Zeus' cup of tea.
Then one day, after I had come home from work, and went upstairs, I heard him yip downstairs, and
called to him "If you want to come up here, buddy, you gotta do it on your own" and continued calling his name. You should have been there... What a circus! Me calling from upstairs, him yipping in frustration from downstairs, the other two dogs running up and down the stairs barking, as if to encourage him, and to show him how it was done.
Then, Finally, he let out a little puppy grunt, you could see him collecting all of his courage.. and he
came upstairs, slipping off of a step a couple of times, but determined to join me just this once, to see what this new world was all about.
What ado about this achievement. He was loved lavishly when he finally made it, I was petting him, scratching his butt, praising him, the other two were racing around us, barking and nipping playfully at both of us... and I was so happy, I felt like joining them.
Well, since that day, Zeus and I have become inseparable whenever possible. Of course, the first few times he followed me downstairs, it was more of a rolly polly, pell mell, tumble bumble... but he got the hang of it...
When time came for his first annual check up. I took him back to the vet, who has an assistant from Arizona.
As Zeus and I came in, she stopped dead in her tracks, and called out with a big grin "A Yote" and was
about to rush over and love on Zeus... which he did not take too kindly. Other than people whom we allow into the house, he does not let strangers near me. And she learned that very quickly.
The vet checked him out, looked at his teeth and paws, and confirmed that Zeus is probably a coyote, with German shepherd blood mixed in.
12-26-1998 Update: Zeus is no longer with me.
At three years old, he started to develop seizures. Almost a year later I had to make the hard decision to end his life. I will never forget the feel of his fur, thick and shiny. I will never forget him looking at me and at the ball he would throw in front of my feet with a hard, loud thump. I cannot forget the dance he danced every day I came home, or had been out
of his sight for a little while. And his obedience! He learned to listen to hand signals, and sounds, a snapping of the finger, a flick of the tongue, a clap of the hand. He anticipated every move I made, and it seemed to be his purpose in life to read my mind - successfully, I might add. Zeus was one of those creatures you meet once in a life time. Farewell, my Shadow. Farewell.
