FIRST DOG

  Our first family dog was a female Weimaraner officially named Kevin’s Miss Schultz and referred to as Schultzie.  She was a gift from dear friends to our first son, Kevin.  My first thought was: “Just what I need, a baby and a puppy.” However, she quickly won my affection and it did not take us long to realize that Weimars really do think they are people.  She was definitely one of the family. When Kevin started to walk, she thought she should take every step that he did.  When he would start to fall, he would grab her.  She would stand very still until he regained his balance. When Kevin was about two years old, we decided to have a picture made with him and Schultzie and use the picture on our Christmas cards.  Schultzie had been obedience trained and when she was told to stay, she stayed.  The photographer decided he wanted her sitting with Kevin beside her.  She sat and she stayed.  The toddler did not want to “stay.”  The photographer would say, “Now, don’t move.”  It didn’t work.  The boy would not stay.  Finally, we took a break and the guy said,  “Surely I can get a good picture.  That dog is SO good.” Schultzie also knew the meaning of the word no.  The toddler was learning, but he was a little obstinate at times.  One evening he was determined to get an object off the coffee table and Ken kept telling him “no.”  Schultzie was sitting beside Ken taking it all in.  Finally, Kevin gave Ken a defiant look and grabbed for the object.  Ken raised his arm to administer a little love tap.  Schultzie grabbed his arm in midair.  She never bit him, just used her soft bird dog mouth to stop him.  When he turned to her, she gave him an “oops” look, and released his arm.  She was just taking care of her baby. She continued to be protective of Kevin as he grew older.  When he was about 4 years old, he went with Ken to feed the cattle at the farm west of Abilene.  Kevin and Schultzie were running around while Ken fed.  When Schultzie kept barking,  Ken  looked and saw her leap to the side.  He looked again and realized that she was between Kevin and a rattlesnake.  She would crouch, and as the snake struck, she would jump to the side.  The snake would recoil and strike again, she would again jump to the side.  Kevin was about ten feet from her watching it all.  Ken believes to this day that she knew exactly what she was doing in keeping the snake away from Kevin. Schultzie liked green tomatoes.  Ken had a garden outside the fenced area of the back yard.  He left the back gate open whenever he worked in his garden.  Schultzie was usually right with him.  He kept complaining that his tomatoes would get almost ripe and then disappear.  He thought that there was a tomato thief getting them. I was watching her one afternoon and saw her get a tomato and take it behind her dog house.  She quickly went for another one.  Yep, she was the tomato thief.  She would stockpile them behind her dog house, then lay down and enjoy them. Schultzie was large enough that children often wanted to ride her.  She would indulge them just so long.  When she got tired of the game, she would sit very straight and wait until they got close to her.  Then she would raise one front leg and whack them with her paw.  She was large enough and strong enough to shove them back. She lived a long life and made the move with us to Tucson when Kevin was eight years old and she had two more children to watch, Charles and Cynthia. We all loved the desert.   We often took a picnic supper into the desert to watch the sunset.  She went on all outings.  In those days, you could drive into Sabino Canyon (now closed to traffic).   She and the children played in the water and climbed over the rocks.   She enjoyed riding in our jeep down the washes, up into the mountains, over the rocks, and wherever we explored.   She lived her life in Tucson and we buried her in the desert.  I cried more than the children.