Many times, if you speak to a dog owner, they will tell you of one particular animal that they had a powerful bond with. There is, or was, something about that dog that made the connection instant, and lasting. The common name for these pets is ‘heart dogs,’ and yes, it can apply to any pet, not just dogs.
Rusty was my heart dog.
He was a handsome dog, and I think he knew it. I first met him when I was a freshman at University of Missouri-Columbia. As a pre-veterinary student, I volunteered to walk some of the blood donor greyhounds on a weekly basis. Rusty and an adorably goofy German Shorthair Pointer named Rosette were the ones who got assigned to me. Rusty was tall for a greyhound, red-fawn, and had ears that flopped forward. He was smart, too…I caught him trying to mess with his kennel latch a few times.
He was also an absolute ass.
I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but Rusty had a…reputation among the veterinary students. By reputation, I mean he was called ‘Mr. Snappy Snarly’ and would do all in his power to make their lives difficult. I guess I should have suspected something when I was told ‘good luck’ when he was assigned to me.
On my first day taking him for a walk, he’s standing in the back of his kennel, almost like he was daring me to approach. The minute I walk toward him with a leash, he shows every tooth in his head, and snarls. I later learned that this was pretty much par for the course with him. What’s a girl to do?
Easy…I whipped out and grabbed him by his needle nose, and uttered a sharp and firm ‘NO.’ He just looked at me, shell shocked. Snarling stopped, and our walk was quite pleasant. Well, except for Rosette trying to tangle both of us in her leash.
What Rusty didn’t know was that I had spent the better part of a decade working with ex-racer greyhounds, and that human aggressive ones are vanishingly rare. Bluster and turdblossom behavior, however, not so much. Rusty and I got along amazingly well after that, and even the veterinary students mentioned that his behavior improved somewhat. He spent a year and a half being a blood donor, then had to be adopted out (hospital policy was to only keep them for eighteen months).
Initially, someone else was going to take him, but the veterinary students intervened on my behalf, saying that there was only one human being on the planet that dog would listen to, and that was me. A very correct assessment, as it turned out. Rusty was a one-person dog, and would almost never heed commands if they didn’t come from my mouth.
I had Rusty for ten years after he was released as a blood donor. He saw me through two college degrees, the beginning and end of my first long-term relationship, and my first few years of teaching. I lost him to old age in December of 2017, right around Christmas. He was loyal, brilliant, a fussy eater, left dead rabbits in my laundry, and perfected the imperious ‘Rusty staredown.’
I miss that monstrous goober every day.
Lobo Rusty: Dec. 2003-Dec. 2017
