Austin: The Best Dog Ever

Sunday August 17 2014

His lifetime dream was to catch a jackrabbit. It was a pipe dream, of course - jackrabbits can run 40 mph (faster, I bet, when they are chased by a pack of dogs), and Austin could get up to maybe 10 mph on his best days, when his short legs got out of churn cycle underneath his wide (sometimes very wide) body (I liked to call him a white sausage).

He dreamed in his sleep of catching a rabbit - legs twitching, mouth quivering - and he loved to chase his dream on our Dog Walks. He was never discouraged, even though it was plain to everyone, him included, that it would never in a million years happen.

Then there was the day we were out on a Dog Walk up on the rim. A jackrabbit shot out of a bush. Girlie and Spigot were off like a shot after him, yelping in a frenzy. Quincy barked and gave chase too. Three dogs in three spastic directions, trying to run down a zig-zagging jackrabbit through the maze and hurdles of desert sagebrush.

And then there was Austin. He leaped to the chase - rather, in slow motion, his legs spun in place and he didn't get anywhere fast, as the rabbit and dogs had already zipped circles around him, sprinted through the next county and back already, as Austin labored up the hill, hard as he could go, panting like a steam engine.

Next thing I saw nearly knocked me over - Austin had the rabbit in his mouth. I think it was more like Girlie and Spigot chased and Quincy barked the frantic rabbit in a triple-back-serpentine-upside-down circle, and it just happened to leap into Austin's oncoming, unaware, panting-open mouth… but it didn't matter how he caught it, because Austin caught a rabbit. None of the other dogs have ever been able to say that.* I have never seen him so proud of himself, ever, not even when he ate half of Stormy's Christmas stocking full of horse treats, plastic wrapping and all.

I'm more of a cat person - cats mostly like you; they can be soft and cuddly or playful; they can take you or leave you; curl up with you or disappear for a few days. I guess I like their independence most.

It's few dogs that really get to me, but Austin was the one who got under my skin, when he rolled over on his back in front of me so I had to stop and scratch his ample belly, every time; when he forever hopefully chased rabbits; when he got his head stuck in a pumpkin;

when he ate half of Stormy's Christmas treats; when in his golden years he still fiercely chased (hobbled and barked after) the neighbor's big German shepherd (who kindly pretended to still be afraid of him); even, in the end, when he could only do the one thing he did best: barking at visitors.

Farewell, my pal Austin. They're all going to have some mighty big dog footprints to fill behind you.


Here's a video Steph made of a dog walk - Austin is the big white one with the big white wagging tail.

[or link]
http://youtu.be/5g7ScPK76ps


*Quincy subsequently swiped the rabbit out of Austin's mouth, the cheater!

Happy Trails, My Friend

 

Wednesday July 30 2013

He cut a dashing figure, astride a horse beneath the pyramids of Egypt. He loved to ride, he loved to share the trails, and he loved to share his horses.

“It was obvious that Borcan - the blustery, formidable, woman-hating, breast-biting white stallion - loved Paul, and Paul definitely doted on this blusterball - and in fact all of his horses,” I wrote in Chapter 15: My King in my book Soul Deep in Horses.

“Norwegian Paul was one of the happiest middle-aged little boys I had ever had the pleasure to know. His wife was the Norwegian ambassador to Ethiopia, and while she was away, Paul played with his beloved horses. Just ask one little question about his kids - his horses - and his eyes widened and sparkled like sapphires and his face beamed with proud delight. Pull up a chair on his porch, above his stables, and he'll serve you a great cup of Ethiopian coffee (or a good cold beer), and instead of pulling out his wallet and dropping an accordion sheet of photos, he will point to his horses in the paddocks below and tick off their accomplishments as proudly as a father giving you a blow by blow of his kids' soccer games."

I wrote of riding Paul’s blustery stallion Borcan in the Egyptian desert, and of riding his rocketship Raad, one of the most thrilling and the utterly fastest, horse rides of my life.

“She got it right!” he wrote, reviewing Soul Deep in Horses. “Being the happy owner of two of the horses featured in this book, I have to applaud her take on horses who love people who love horses! She gets it terrifically right! Thank you Merri!” I could see his face beaming as he read the stories then wrote these words.

I’m glad Paul got to see his much-loved Borcan and Raad ‘immortalized’ in the pages of my book.  I’m glad he knew how much those rides meant to me.

I’d always figured on seeing him again and having more riding adventures with him next time I visit Maryanne in Egypt. But he left us unexpectedly, far too soon.

I have another tale or two to tell of riding Paul’s horses. I’m sorry he won’t read my stories about his beloved Prince. But somehow, I think he will still know, and I think he’ll be beaming, his eyes twinkling again, delighted with shared appreciation and mutual love for his horses.

And I know he’s already busy up there, riding new horses, finding new trails, telling entertaining horse stories to those who come to join him.

Farewell and Happy Trails, Paul, I’ll ride with you again one day over those new trails.