Mom's Protector

Edited locally

The family dog of my childhood, Hansi, used to keep watch like this at our picture window when Mom was away. He would see the car arriving when it was almost half a mile away, coming into view around a big curve on the blacktop road. Then all dog broke loose — jumping to the floor, barking, running up and down the stairs, his way of saying LET ME OUT OF THIS HOUSE! When Mom was parked in the driveway and someone opened the house door, Hansi burst forth with his feet burning rubber, like a dog in the cartoons, dashing to the driver’s side front door to welcome home his most-loved person. His way of greeting her was to gnaw her shoes while half-groaning and half-crying. It made it hard for Mom to take a step. She just had to laugh and stand there until the dog had told her enough times how glad he was to have her safely home. I never saw him greet anyone else that way or saw another dog greet anyone that way.

Our little dachshund looked very much like this one. And Hansi had this same long-distance laser-like gaze, pinned to that big curve on the highway. Even at that long distance he knew Mom’s car from every other car. Mom was his person and his responsibility. He applied all his intelligence and devotion to the job of waiting for her return. He watched and waited like this for hours. He was her knight in shining black and tan.