The Right Dog

Perhaps she was a little too young when I took her to Obedience School. If a grade were given, I’d say she passed with a low C-minus. She was far too happy to be in the company of multiple other dogs with so many interesting-smelling body parts. Nevertheless, I worked diligently with her daily for the duration and beyond. I had successfully trained dogs before, after all. But they were not Boykin Spaniels.

I have Perkins because she fulfilled a lifelong desire for my husband, Cloyde. For all his life, he’d wanted a companion dog to love, cherish and share everything with. His parents would not allow a dog in the house. Even after he’d found a dog and brought it home in his teens, it was relegated to the yard and the garage. And, at the first opportunity when he was gone for a week, his father got rid of it, and never would tell him what happened to it. Later, as a young man, his first wife also would not allow a dog in the house. He did get one, but it lived outside and he was eventually forced to give it away.

Later, when he and I married, we started out with Siamese cats, plus another Tortie. But Cloyde still longed for a dog. He dreamed of a furry companion to sail and travel with. Initially, he wanted a Chesapeake Bay Retriever because it was a water dog. Then, he fell in love with the idea of a Golden Retriever because they are just great and beautiful dogs. But, having lived with dogs and cats most of my life, I had to lay down some truths and some guidelines for dog ownership before we made that commitment.

1. Traveling with a dog has restrictions. Not all motels allow them and you simply cannot leave one at home alone for a long weekend as you can a couple of cats.
2. If you want to take the dog sailing, it must fit in the boat’s cockpit without obstructing the tiller. That eliminates a Golden.
3. A dog is part of the family. It lives in the house. It sits and sleeps where it wants, on the couch, your favorite chair, and most likely your bed.
4. My special rule is that the dog must not be of such a size and shape that when it wags its tail it clears off the coffee table. This also eliminates all tallish dogs with beautiful wagging tails. Dachshunds, which I had growing up, are never a problem, but Cloyde called them Nazi dogs and wouldn’t have one. They ARE barky and territorial.
5. We agreed we didn’t want a dog with a glaring anus or backward-staring third brown eye. We just didn’t want to see or even think about that.

Surprisingly, Cloyde reluctantly agreed to these points, especially after a friend showed up with a Boykin Spaniel. He immediately fell in love with this mid-sized bob-tailed dog (whose third eye was generally concealed by its short tail and fluffy flanks). It wasn’t small enough to be mistaken for a cat, had beautiful eyes and fur, and was soooo happy to see everyone! AND, it was a water dog, bred for duck hunting, (which ours would never be exposed to).

So, we contacted the breeder where our friend found his baby and we waited for two litters for a female puppy with the same parents as our friend’s Boykin.

As every puppy does, ours chewed up earbuds, slippers, shoes, socks, and the clawed feet of our mahogany bar, anything she could reach when no one was paying attention.

It took our one remaining Siamese ten months to finally accept her. Chogi sat on the spiral staircase, midway up, mentally telling us to take that unnecessary thing back to wherever it came from. The dog, you see, has always been fearful of that staircase and will not use it. That middle step is also where we had to feed the cat because she was too old to jump atop the washing machine to reach a bowl and Perkins would gobble up the cat food before Chogi could get around to eating. Perkins did enjoy Chogi’s manufactured Tootsie Rolls whenever she could access them. (This is one of the reasons you don’t want your dog to kiss you on the mouth, no matter how much you love her.)

From Day One Perkins went to work with us. In fact, on that very first day, before we’d even settled on a name, a near tragedy occurred. Cloyde was out running an errand when I heard a clanking sound accompanied by a muffled whining behind me. Our puppy had gotten her head stuck in an empty Mason Jar that was stored in my office. As I tried to pull it off her head, she was fogging up the inside of the jar, her eyes getting bigger and bigger. Her ears, which had flattened nicely against her head for the insertion acted like a drywall anchor bolt when trying to remove the jar.

I was afraid we’d lose our puppy before we ever got to name her! When Cloyde finally returned it took our four hands, a large vice, a soft cloth rag, and a large hammer carefully aimed at the jar’s neck to free her. Meanwhile, every miss of the hammer was like striking the Liberty Bell with that poor little fur-baby’s head stuck inside. After we freed her, I suggested we name her Jar Head. But, Cloyde named her Lady Perkins Lee Wiley because we live on Perkins Lane at Perkins Creek, the breeder was Mr. Lee (the Lees of Virginia) and Wiley was Cloyde’s last name. We simply called her Perkins.

For the first month or so, whenever guests would enter the Gallery, Perkins would race to the door to greet them and pee on the floor at their feet. She was such a great greeter! Eventually, she outgrew that and simply became the county’s best shop greeter. Now people come to my Gallery and say, “Oh hi, Barbara! We don’t want to buy anything. We are here just to visit Perkins.”

But why was she the perfect dog for Cloyde? Let’s start with how much he loved her. From the day we adopted her, Cloyde never went to bed without having smiled and laughed at her excited antics. As much as I know he loved me, I think he might have loved her even more. He was like a 6’2” 250-pound little boy with that dog. He never did learn to make her obey, and he could never walk her on the leash. She would jerk him clean out of his Crocs. He never understood that you give a dog a COMMAND, not a wistful suggestion or plea.

As I said before, even with me, obedience was never her strong suit, and still isn’t. But I recently found an online tutorial of a man explaining the difference in field training a Labrador Retriever and a Boykin Spaniel. First, he gave a series of commands to the Lab, and that good boy just couldn’t be any more excited or immediate about pleasing that man’s every whim. Then, he gave the Boykin the same series of commands. You could watch the dog contemplating the commands. Then, you could see the dismissive nod or side-eye as it responded, “Yeah, I’m going to get to that just as soon as I check out this other thing that has caught my attention… maybe.” Yep, that’s Perkins. Apparently, that attitude is bred into them.

And my beloved husband, God rest his soul, was JUST LIKE THAT! No one could cajole, beg, nag, or threaten him into doing anything he wasn’t already going to do of his own accord. And, even when he did eventually do the chore, he did it with his own unique spin, not the way he was asked to do it. No. He got the dog he deserved. My sweet big little boy, my stubborn Cloyde has been gone for three years, but Perkins remains.

Sometimes I wonder if she can hear me when I call her, and then other times I know she is not deaf because she can hear me peeling a banana three rooms away. Apart from being self-motivated, insistent, and stubborn, she is nothing but sweet and loving, and eager to steal your food! And she sleeps on Cloyde’s side of the bed.