Life with Liesel
“A dog reflects the family life. Whoever saw a frisky dog in a gloomy family, or a sad dog in a happy one? Snarling people have snarling dogs, dangerous people have dangerous ones.” ― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes
Two weeks ago I succumbed to the sinus “crud” that had made the rounds with everyone else in my house. It was my turn, I supposed, and I was down for the count. I called in sick to work and curled up on the sofa under a blanket for the day, a book and a cup of hot tea by my side.
I’m pretty sure Liesel, my Weimaraner, sensed that I was not feeling well. Most days she’s keenly attuned to my movements, content to be by my side as I do chores, go outside, or watch TV. I’m confident she could tell that the household vibe was off and that I was out of sorts, unable to fend for myself.
And I’m certain that Liesel’s loyalty led her to bring me a dead mouse and deposit it on the back deck. She hadn’t mangled, tortured, or consumed “Squeakers” herself. It was as if she had meticulously applied just enough pressure to bring it to me as a silent offering, a gift to say that If I couldn’t feed myself, well, my faithful companion must take it upon herself to do it for me.
I never thought I would own a Weimaraner. They’re not very common around here, but the “Gray Ghosts” have a long history as hunting dogs of the German nobles as far back as the early 19th century. The American Kennel Club praises the breed for its “friendliness and obedience” and its lovely “velvety ears.” The Weimaraner gained newfound popularity in William Wegman’s photos, in which he posed them in costumes and reading glasses, their earnest and somber faces a sharp contrast to the often comedic get-ups Wegman employed.
Liesel entered our lives and everything changed.
I’ve never had a neurotic dog before. I’ve certainly had “spirited” dogs, but all of them exhibited behavior well within the normal range. This dog’s separation anxiety was off the charts, however. Crate training was an exercise in the impossible. One evening we went out to dinner, and Leisel decided that we had been gone too long.” Harry Houdini” escaped from the crate and destroyed the sheetrock beside the bedroom door in an attempt to find the family and remind us that she had been left behind. Thank God my father had mad drywall repair skills and fixed the damage.
Not long afterwards, we went for a short drive and decided to take Leisel with us. Unfortunately, the car ride upset her fragile disposition, worry consumed her, and the heaving began. Nothing quite gets the adrenaline flowing like the sound of a dog on the verge of throwing up. David was driving, and I sat with Leisel in my lap in the passenger’s seat, holding her head and front legs out of the window, while she threw up down the side of my car, all while driving through downtown Villa Rica. We were vying for a Marley & Me sequel at that point.
Over the course of her short life, she has consumed two entire sticks of butter, a raw rack of ribs, two prime filets (I’m still sore over that one), a pound or so of new potatoes that landed her at the emergency vet, and more socks and panties than I can count.
Liesel’s recent act of charity certainly wasn’t the first time she took it upon herself to provide for the family. A few years ago she went outside for her morning constitutional and returned with a dead baby bird that she unceremoniously dumped in my lap while I was still in bed.
She’s done the same thing when we’ve left the kids alone, always birds presented belly up at the door. Selfless as always, she refrains from ingesting her prey, leaving it instead for us to “enjoy.”
Perhaps the best example of Liesel’s allegiance occurred about three years ago when David had COVID. He had been sick for nine straight days with fever, and these were the early days of the illness when we were all adhering to strict quarantine guidelines. But one night I opened the back door and Liesel came in and deposited a “dead” possum on the living room floor. My daughter Izzy and I screamed and clutched each other as we looked at the lifeless carcass with its skinny tail curled around its body. One perfect puncture wound and a tiny trickle of blood were the only evidence of the carnage that had befallen the poor creature. As Leisel looked at us, proud of her trophy, all we could do was watch in horror as it slowly opened its beady black eye and surveyed the room. COVID and quarantine be damned, we both yelled for David.
Despite his sickness, David, in his weakened state, begrudgingly picked up the possum by the tail and deposited it on the back fence, begging it to be okay. Happily, he returned later to find that it had, in fact, left to make its way back into the wild.
A hunter, a provider, and a true companion, Liesel brings both chaos and excitement into our lives. A handful to be sure, her love covers us all, and makes our life so much better. A quirky dog for a quirky family.
And as I look at her lying on the floor beside my chair as I write this article, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
(This article was originally published March 4, 2023, in the Southern Spice section of Times-Georgian.)
