K2K9.com

Hector

Dave Markle, pictured here in 2001 with Hector a few days after Hector joined our pack, is responsible for making k2k9.com possible. Words cannot thank Dave enough for all his hard work. I love the way this photograph captured their eyes! Look at the size of Hector's paws. Hector was 8 weeks old at the time. November, 2001. Interesting footnote: Dave's Mom gave me Hector, and words alone cannot express the joy this crazy canine has brought to us every day of his life.

In the early days of September, 2001, our friends Nancy, John and Falisha announced that their dog, Oreo, had given birth to a large litter of mixed-breed puppies.

Having had so much fun with Hobie for the previous year-and-a-half, and having lost Timba in May of 2001, I felt compelled to say, "I'll take one!", figuring it would be fun to have two dogs.

About ten days went by, and on a beautiful sky-blue Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001, our lives changed forever. We had just hired several new employees at the travel company, and were projecting one of the most successful years ever. In the blink of an eye, our lives turned upside-down. The new employees were laid off, and we made major cutbacks in our domestic overhead. I stopped attending Weight Watchers meetings, and became totally stressed out.

A few weeks later, I bumped into Nancy, and she told me the pups were growing and when was I going to come by and pick one out. Of course, by that time, I had decided that I wouldn't take a pup after all. But, being a keeper-of-my-word-to-a-fault type of person, I couldn't say no. I told Nancy I'd come by and pick out a pup soon.

Since we were so bummed out at work, I quickly recruited my pal, Roberta, to accompany me on the trek out to the Hunter Farm one Friday afternoon. Playing with puppies would be very therapeutic, and we needed something to make us feel happier. I put Hobie into the car, and away we went.

When we arrived at the Hunter Farm, Nancy put the mother dog, Oreo, away from the litter and let us play with all the pups. I wanted a female, and I wanted a dog with great coloring, but all the females were already spoken for. I had in front of me about four or five remaining male puppies to choose from. They were like little tiny teddy bears with huge paws. Each of them more beautiful than the next. Roberta and I sat on the ground, giggling, with little blind puppies crawling all over our legs. Even Roberta considered adopting one, until she found out how big they were going to grow!

After a few minutes of playing, Hobie came back from wherever he had been galavanting around at, walked up to the pile of male pups, and flipped one over with his nose. I looked at Hobie, and said, "Is that the one you want?" Hobie basically said, "Yes" with his energy, and trotted off to play some more with Nancy's other dog, Maggie.

The puppy Hobie had flipped with his nose was the only tri-colored male of the bunch. He had beautiful white markings all over his underbelly and legs, and black spots on the white mane around his neck. His coloring was very Beagle-like, and I immediately made the connection to Sam, my first dog, who was a Beagle. This puppy was so small, still couldn't see, still couldn't walk. "Well," I said to Nancy, "This is the one." Nancy reserved the pup for me, and said he'd be ready to go home with me in several weeks.

Hector, at the Hunter Farm, with Nancy -- five weeks old.

For the next seven Fridays, Roberta and I drove out to the Hunter Farm to visit Hector and play with him and watch him grow. Each time we would leave the farm, Maggie the dog would chase our car, and we'd have to turn around and bring her back home!

The second time we visited, Hobie was again loose, and we went into the back of the farm after playing with the pups to talk and visit with the horses, chickens and goats. Hobie took one look at those chickens, and barrel-assed right through the electric farmer's fence, got zapped and didn't care, and proceeded to chomp down on a chicken. Seeing what happened, I galloped into action, jumped the electric fence myself and grabbed Hobie just in time to see three llamas bearing down on us. "Get the hell outta there!" John cried. Somehow, I grabbed Hobie by the collar, chicken still in his mouth, and dragged him through the electric fence, where once again he got zapped and did not care. We got away from the llamas just in time. John pried the chicken out of Hobie's mouth, but too late, it was already a goner. I learned later that llamas are kept on a farm for the purposes of guarding the livestock against ... coyotes! They sure did their job well. Talk about a close call. A few days later, Nancy sent me a bill for $3.50 to cover the costs of the dead chicken. I brought her an enormous bag of Purina Dog Chow the following week.

(Here are Hobie's "mug shots"!)

The weeks went by, and it was time to take Hector home with us and away from his mama. I went to Hunter Farm with Roberta, and without Hobie (!!). I decided I'd put Hector in the way-back of the station wagon, inside a box, for the 10-minute drive back to Spencer. As soon as we began driving, Hector began howling. Howling like a banshee. Sounds I'd never think of hearing come out of such a little, young dog. Roberta dubbed him "Devil Dog" because of the sounds. After two minutes of this, I pulled over and took him out of the box and asked Roberta to hold him the rest of the way home. The howling increased ten-fold, accompanied by thrashing and kicking in an attempt to get away from Roberta's hold on the poor little guy. It would take months to get this dog accustomed to riding in a car without flipping out. Five years later, it's one of his favorite things to do, and he still howls as we approach home.

(here's Hector, the car, and the box. Oh, and me with weird hair.)

Hobie and Hector play with a nylon stocking on Hector's first night in his new home.

The as-yet-unnamed Hector came home to our little house in Spencer, and hit it off with Hobie immediately. The two of them played and played. Hector would go outside with Gil, without a leash, and stand in the yard and do his business. Then, he'd go right back in. He never left the yard, and always stayed close to home. He decided Gil was his favorite person.

Hector was filled with worms and fleas the first few days he came to us. And, of course, Hobie caught the parasites immediately. We were infested. We had to give them both antibiotics or whatever it is that you give dogs for worms, and bathe them to get rid of the fleas. Because Hector was crawling with these critters, we didn't cuddle with him much until he was a bit older. He has a definitely different personality from Hobie, that is for sure.

At work the next day, Roberta asked if I'd chosen a name for the little dog. No, I was stumped. All of my dogs had been named by other people in the past. I need to spend a few days getting to know his personality... then maybe it will come to me. Maybe "Tippi" because of the tip of white on his tail.

Roberta and I had worked together, at two different jobs, for many years. Seeing as how those jobs spanned at least two decades, and a lot of technological advances had been made over the years, we always joked that we were a bit "stuck in the 70s" at our office. We often would have conversations with new employees that went something like this:

"Why do you do ____ (fill in the blank)?"

And the answer would be:

"We've been doing it that way since Hector was a pup."

Somehow, Roberta and I got talking that day, and conversations being as they are, somehow the "doing it that way since Hector was a pup" joke came up that afternoon. Roberta and I simultaneously looked at each other and exclaimed, "Hector!" And that's how Hector got his name.

Having two dogs would prove to be one of the biggest challenges of my life. Having one dog is so easy compared to having two, both males, and so close in age. While I may never choose to have a "pack of dogs" again -- I would also never change a thing. It has been the most enriching and wonderful experience of my entire life. These dogs were the inspiration for my writing, my getting into dog behavior stuff, and the creation of this web site and the blogs. My two boys, Hobie and Hector, bring me my happiness and joy each and every day. I will love them both forever, and hope we can be blessed to be together at least as long as Timba and I were.

At five years of age, Hector is the light of our lives. He is, without a doubt, the nicest, kindest dog I've ever known. I have yet to hear him growl. I have never seen him have even a moment of anger toward any other dog, human, or anything. Hector is like a cartoon-character dog. Like Goofy, or Pluto, Scooby Doo or Marmaduke. He loves life. His main focus is to have fun and play. What a lesson for us all! He is smart, but in a different way from Hobie who is intense, almost as if he has a human brain inside his head. Hobie knows words, and can pick them out of a sentence, but give him a toy and he will destroy it in two seconds flat. Hobie doesn't really know how to play. He's a very "serious" dog, very intense and highly intelligent. Mike calls Hobie, "The Coolest Dog". Yup, Hobie is very kewl. Hector reacts to the sound of my voice, doesn't always understand verbal commands, but can do tricks with his toys and tennis balls that amaze people. I often look at Hector and my heart soars, and I say to him, "What a nice dog!" "What a nice, nice dog."