Those of us that have pets know they provide both joy and frustration and not always in equal measure.
Dogs have always been my pet companion of choice and the primary reason is that cat box thing. I just can’t get into it.

Last fall I had to put my old dog to sleep. It was very difficult and I knew I’d get another dog when I was ready. Enter Star, a two-year-old mixed breed rescue with emotional issues.

The dog’s biggest issue was an aversion to being left alone. Ever. She showed her dislike for being left behind in endless varieties of expensive destruction. When she literally destroyed a piece of furniture, I had had it. I had suffered through the replacement of two remote controls, eaten books and eyeglasses and I could take no more. Feeling like a failure, I returned the dog. There was apparently no way short of caging her to assure I would not find a colossal mess on returning home. I vowed never to get another “used” dog.

In January after several months of life without a dog, I went shopping for one. I thought I would get a puppy, even though training is a hassle. I figured since I work at home, training would be easier. PAWS had some puppies, but then I saw her. Some 25 pounds of cute clad in a brown, black, white, and spotted coat. A year-old beagle that had been picked up as a stray right before Christmas. She was the right size and I decided to take a chance on a more or less adult dog, although a used one.

The issue of a name always comes first. This dog has personality for days. Not long after we got home, I was talking to her about her name. I looked at her and said, “You’re a pretty snazzy dog.” She cocked her head at me in a most charming manner, so I anointed her Snazzy. I’ve always thought dogs had to be trained to do that head-cocking thing, but she does it all the time, just like she’s really listening to me and absorbing what I have to say.

In addition, she tries to talk. She will look at me intently, bark sharply and look expectant. I don’t speak dog, so it takes a while to discover what she is seeking. She audibly sighs and yawns, makes little whines which I’m sure mean something and is just about the most verbal dog I’ve ever encountered. She’s flat out adorable.

This is my first experience with a literal hound dog, but it is a breed apart. All food is treasure. In the first few days when I was showering her with chew bones, she buried them in plain sight, pushing the air around with her nose. Clearly, to her it was hidden. It was a hoot to watch this procedure. She buried stuff in corners, under chairs, in my bed, outside, and hours later made a great show of discovering the treasure. Since those first couple of weeks, she has slowed down in the making of food caches, knowing, I guess, she won’t go hungry here.

She apparently has no desertion issues. She loves to ride with me in the car, but she does not go ballistic and destructive when left alone.

All has not been ideal, however. I lost one expensive Birkenstock sandal, but after she was handicapped with wearing the remains around her neck for a few days, she leaves my shoes alone. She took a liking to some books and destroyed them when she tried to read them. This is a serious indiscretion in my house, but after some stern words about how this was not acceptable behavior, it has not been repeated, even though there are books within her reach everywhere.

It’s a process, but she’s smart and funny and really pretty snazzy. She’s here to stay. However, if I can’t find a way to keep her from digging under the fence and going to visit the neighbors, I’m changing her name to Houdini.

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