My happy place was my first apartment as a new bride. It wasn’t in the greatest neighborhood, but it wasn’t in the worst, either. We newlyweds moved in our meager possessions, and our new life began. I met my future husband in the hospital. He put on my cast and we became engaged that same year. He asked me what I wanted for our wedding present, and I said A DOG!
Shortly after our wedding we settled down to married life. My new husband and I went to DOG ORPHANS in Massachusetts, a no-kill shelter. I hoped to find a German Shepherd, which is what my family owned when I was a girl.
There were no Shepherds in the shelter, and as my husband was partial to hunting dogs. I asked if there were any, and was told about an abused Irish setter in bad shape. He’d been beaten, neglected, starved, and was full of parasites. He didn’t even have a name yet, just a number. The male dog wasn’t healthy enough to be released from quarantine, but I could see him now if I wanted.
I said, “Sure, why not?” Five minutes later the handler was back. The dog hid under the desk, cowering. The handler tried to coax him out, pulling gently on the leash, but he didn’t come until I said, “Come here, boy.”
I managed to touch the silky fur on his head just once, then the dog yanked the leash out of the handler’s hand. The setter hurled himself against the closed front office door, popped it open, and took off running.
This was near a busy route, with heavy traffic. All I could imagine was squished dog. I was the one who eventually found him–head out of the open window of my car! There must have been 50 vehicles in the parking lot, yet this Setter was in my back seat! Quarantine or not, that dog watched me with big brown eyes, and I knew.
I looked at the men and said, “He’s coming home with me.” My spouse returned to fill out paperwork and I climbed in the back seat with the runaway. I named my new dog Brandy, after the color of his coat, and my vet and I nursed him back to health.
I also didn’t realize how clever Brandy was. He was my first Irish, and the list of smartest dogs does not have Irish Setters in the top ten. But he was a perfect bird dog, “pointing” at New England pheasant and flushing them from the fields during our walks. He was a great dog inside the house as well—except he was a food addict. Starved and skeletal when we got him, he never felt safe that a next meal was coming.
First, he pulled the bread loaf down from the counter. We found him with his nose buried into the bag. Next came the other foods we stored securely—or so we thought–in the cold oven. He opened the oven, and now had a package of cookies go to with his bread. At least he never figured out how to open the refrigerator!
But the coup de grace came when I baked my favorite cake for the evening’s church function—a cherry chip. It was displayed beautifully in a crystal Princess House cake pedestal with a glass cover, and a knob on top so you could easily lift the cover. I came back to home after running errands to find it gone. The pedestal and cover were exactly in place and was as clean as if it had just come out of the dishwasher. I was fuming. When my husband came home, I asked why he had eaten the WHOLE cake meant for church. He said he was at work all day and hadn’t touched it.
“Maybe Brandy did it,” he said.
My response, “A dog who lifted up a cake cover top, ate a whole cake, licked it clean, then replaced the glass top in the exact same place without breaking the glass? He would have to have four paws on the counter!”
“Then yes, he did,” my indignant husband replied. “Because I didn’t do it. That leaves only one culprit left.” He called Brandy over. “Time to smell your breath.”
A sniff, a pause, then, “Yep, cherry chip.”
“I don’t believe it!” I had to sniff for myself, then turned toward my husband. “I guess I owe you an apology,” I said, smiling at my clever dog who had lifted the cake top, eaten a whole cake, licked the pedestal clean, and replaced the lid exactly centered correctly, without leaving so much as a scratch, crack or chip in the glass.
I had to laugh. It was too hard to scold my clever thief. From then on, we put all food in the refrigerator. He never did manage to get it open.
I had the smartest dog in the word, and Brandy proved it two years later when he trapped a murderer in my kitchen while I took out the trash to the dumpster. He was already wanted by the police for stabbing and killing one woman for drug money. The police arrested him. I would have been a victim myself if my bonny boy hadn’t saved me! I gave Brandy a steak for dinner and told him what a good boy he was.
He continued to be a CLEVER good boy, showing me that the breed list of smartest dogs was a crock.
Brandy beat the number one placed “Border Collie” hands down. I loved him dearly for many years, and rewarded him many times, especially for his gentle loving care of my two children I later had. Our favorite place remained wherever our family, including our loyal family dog, were all together.
But I made sure he never got another cherry chip cake!