Brandy

                The day Brandy came into our life was like any other, my brothers and I were in the backyard under our big mulberry tree. We were making a city for my brother’s hot wheels cars. I had the broom and was sweeping the dirt; yes dirt, to make roads. We had a lake; that we had to keep refilling as the water absorbed into the ground. We also had hills and valleys that wrapped around the base of the tree. Several buildings made of twigs and grass dotted the landscape, and we had a huge volcano. The volcano was the epicenter of our city.

 We would spend hours playing under that tree, racing the cars around it and crashing them into our lake. When we were lucky my father would come out, he’d pour a fine line of slow burning gun powder through our city and up the volcano. He would fill the crater at the top with a type that would burn more explosively.  My father would let me light it; because I was the oldest. We would turn off the porch lights, and slowly put the lit match to the long line of gunpowder. Excitedly we watched the flame burn up the line, around our city, over the hills and down in the valleys. It sparkled and hissed as it crept along. Then slowly it would creep up the side of the volcano, then when it reached the crater POOF! Flames would shoot straight up into the air, and we would shriek in delight as we watched the fire burn down. 

               That was how we spent a lot of weekends, until Brandy came into our lives. My dad brought her home one day; he came out back and sat her down right in the middle of our city. We were thrilled; we hadn’t had a dog since Fluffy had been hit by a car. All three of us still missed him. This puppy was nothing like our precious Fluffy. Fluffy was a Cocker Spaniel. He had shaggy buff colored fur that stuck out at all angles. No amount of brushing ever tamed it and a tuft of lighter fur on his head that stuck up like spikes. He was a mellow fellow, he’d play fetch with us and follow after us around sometimes but his favorite thing was lying out in the middle of our grassy lawn basking in the sun. 

 Brandy on the other hand was a barrel of energy, from the moment my dad sat her down she was jumping and barking. My youngest brother Jimmy squatted down and she ran into him like a speeding locomotive and proceeded to drench his face with kisses. Then she jumped into our little lake and dug up all the cars, deciding which one she liked best, she started chewing on it. My brother Tommy tried to get the car back and the chase was on. We spent the next twenty minutes chasing her around the yard until she decided it was her nap time, she plopped down into the grass and went to sleep, the car now forgotten. I scooped her up and brought her into the house and laid her on the floor, she didn’t wake for the rest of the night.

             My dad bought Brandy because he wanted a hunting dog. She was a German Shorthaired Pointer. Her coat was liver with white speckling. That’s the AKC description; I just thought it was a lovely shade of brown with white freckles thru out. As a puppy her ears seemed long and she would trip on them occasionally and she had a short tail, since they cut it when she was only a couple days old. Brandy never really became the hunter my dad wanted; she was more like a shepherd/herder/personal body guard, kind of dog. She didn’t belong to us, we belonged to her. She was with us constantly, she patiently put up with being dressed up in any costume I could think up, she became a terrifying monster when we wanted to be chased and did a mean job of twirl the brother. When he would throw himself over her and wrap his arms around her neck. She would grab hold of his pants leg and run around in circles as if she was chasing her tail. She also loved to grab my brothers by that back of their pants, she’d tug them down exposing their behinds like the dog in the Coppertone commercials.

               She had many peculiar tendencies too; we found out early on that she loved scrambled eggs, so when ever we had eggs for breakfast mom would make Brandy her own. She would run to her bowl and bark at the eggs before she would take a bite, because the first time mom made her eggs they were hot, so it became her routine when served eggs, she would bark at them for a minute or so to cool them down then eat them. She did this every time she got some, however she never barked at her other meals.

               She also had a vindictive streak when she got upset, but we never knew we upset tell later. The first time my brothers were teasing her with a giant stuffed bull I had.  They chased her around the house, thrusting the bull in her face and yelling boo. She pretended to attack it like was a terrific game but the next day when I got home from school, pieces of my beloved bull were all over the house, and every single piece was shredded into tiny particles. I was so upset I cried and Brandy with no repentance at all, just barked at me. 

             When dad spanked her for sleeping on the couch, she waited till he left then shredded the cushion she’d been laying on. Moms friends came over and had an emergency re-upholstery session. She was worried about what dad would do to Brandy. When he got home he was pleasantly surprised to see that our old couch was totally redone. Mom just told him that it was getting a little ragged so she wanted to fancy it up.  Dad never found out what Brandy had done. But soon he would enter into a battle of wills with her that she would usually win.      

                The battle started one day when we kids were outside playing, Brandy had been left inside, the doors were closed and she wanted out bad. She went to my brother’s bedroom, they had left the window open a little, so she jumped atop the bed and pushed the window open with her nose then jumped right thru the screen. My dad was furious; he spanked her and fixed the screen. The next weekend we were out front and she was inside and even though the front door was open she went into the boy’s room and jumped through the screen again. For the next couple months any time the boys left that window open even a fraction of an inch, she’d jump thru it and dad would repair it. When my father put a lock on the window so she couldn’t push it open again, she started pooping in his slippers that he left by his bed. We thought this was hilarious at first but by the third time she did it, we were seriously afraid my dad would get rid of her. It only stopped when my mom started putting his slippers in the closet. I guess Brandy figured she had gotten her point across, because there were no more smelly incidents.

               Brandy could be very sneaky too, I loved taking her with me when I’d walk to the store, she’d wait for me at the door while I was in the store, when I came out I usually would give her a treat, then we’d head home. One time I had gone to the store for a bunch of fresh tortillas, but no extras. 

               “ Sorry girl, no treats today.” I told her when I came out of the store. She took it in good spirits and we started home.  Brandy walked faithfully at my side, and the bag of tortillas swung gently back and forth on my other side.  It was a short and peaceful walk home. The weather was cool, the wind was slightly blowing and I was anticipating the burrito I was going to have when I got there. We went into the house and I gave my mom the bag of tortillas and went into the front room to wait for dinner. I had no sooner sat upon our newly re-upholstered couch than my mom started yelling my name. I ran into the kitchen to see my mom holding up the bag of tortillas. The brand new bag I had just bought and carried all the way home from the store! It looked exactly like it had at the store except for the huge chunk bit out of it. Instead of the tortillas being nice and round now they looked like a ¾ moon, except the missing piece was the same size and shape as Brandy’s mouth. I never felt a thing or realized that she had snuck to my other side to take the bite,

              We learned never to chain her up, my dad did one day so she wouldn’t follow us to the community pool. A couple of minutes after we left my dad heard a noise coming from the kitchen. He went in only to find Brandy inside, she had jumped thru the window, luckily the table was under the window and her legs could reach a chair. She gave him a triumphant look when he walked in to see her standing on her hind legs, his eyes went to the chain that was still attached to her collar, it was draped thru the window and torn screen to the secured end still wrapped around the tree.

              We learned never to put a leash on her when we rode our bikes, because she would decide when she was done and she just plop herself down with no warning no matter how fast you were riding. That never ended well. We learned never to play fetch with sticks, after she ate my moms newly planted peach tree. All sticks were fair game as far as she was concerned after that. Most importantly we learned to never play tether ball round Brandy, she was fiercely competitive. And she was the only one allowed to hit the ball; she used to bite at the ball to hit it. I was playing my mom one day and I had just hit the ball to her, she reached out to hit it back, and connected with Brandy’s mouth instead of the ball. Mom had to get 4 stitches from that incident. For that Brandy was very sorry, she followed mom around for days, trying to make amends.              

          We learned to accept Brandy’s peculiarities and realized that she was no ordinary dog. She proved to us how special she truly was on one of our summer camping trips.  Every summer we would spend a week in the White Mountains, just off the west fork of the Black river. It is a beautiful place, the fishing is great, the temperatures perfect. Usually we camped at a site where the river was narrow and shallow, but this year the site was already occupied. So we drove farther down the river until Dad found a spot he liked. The river was wider here but there was a cove like area that was shallow and safe for us to play. Every day dad would walk down river to fish, it was deeper there than where we camped, so better fishing.  My brothers, Mom, Brandy and I would spend the days exploring the area and playing in the cove of the river. At night we would roast marshmallows and tell scary stories. It was an idealic time. 

We had been at the river for about four days and by now we were very accustomed to the area. We nagged my mom into lettings us play in the river, which was now about the hundredth time we’d played in it. Mom agreed and took a chair so she could watch us, Dad was off fishing again. So we were all splashing and playing when Brandy started barking ferociously, it wasn’t until Brandy changer into the river that I realized I didn’t see my brother Tommy. Mom jumped up out of her chair realizing at the same moment that Tommy was missing. 

                  “Cathy! Where is your brother?” she yelled

                  “I don’t know Mom” I cried frantically looking around.

                 It seemed like hours but it was only seconds before my brothers head briefly popped to the surface a little ways down from us in the middle of the river. Brandy swam right to him before my mom or I could get our bodies to move. She swam circles around him as he thrashed and gagged on the water. She would bump him with her nose to get his attention, finally he realized she was there, he wrapped his arms around her and she swam him back to the shore. My mom ran splashing into the river grabbing Tommy before Brandy made it all the way, she cradled him to her chest, and cried.  Dad, had heard us screaming and had run back to camp, he arrived just as mom was taking Tommy from Brandy.

 After my parents made sure Tommy was okay, Brandy came up to double check she sniffed him from head to toe, nudging him with her nose a couple of times, then when she was satisfied he was fine, she proceeded to shower him with doggy kisses. Once she was done with Tommy, Jimmy and I jumped in, we were so relieved that he was okay. After that it was Brandy’s turn, she got as much love and kisses as Tommy had.

              “Such a good dog.” My dad said patting her head.

            “Good dog! Shes a wonderful dog” my mom corrected my dad. Brandy sat there so proudly, accepting all the praise, she actually was beaming. Dad made her two hamburgers that night, for her heroism and she slept right up in Tommy’s arms that night.

My parents never complained again about Brandy’s sometimes stubborn and obstinate behavior, or her tendency to be vindictive. She was no longer just a pet; she was a cherished member of our family.  I have no doubt she saved my brothers life that day.  I don’t want to even imagine what life would have been like if she hadn’t been with us. She will always be remembered as our hero, peculiarities and all.