Taking a break from the issues to reflect on a loss

There are lots of things happening in the world of outdoor politics at the moment. The United States Supreme Court is hearing a case that could have long-term and far-reaching effects on the federal government’s overreach into management of lands and waterways in Alaska and across the country.

Closer to home, various groups and individuals are preparing for the March Board of Game statewide regulations meeting (I submitted two proposals) and working on developing new proposals for next year’s Board of Fisheries Cook Inlet cycle. I’m paying attention but must admit to a recent half-hearted interest.

Thirteen years ago, in this column, I wrote about the passing of our little dachshund, Ruby, and what a joy she had been in my family’s life. I am sorry to say that earlier today, as I write this, we had to make the decision to have our oldest dachshund, Tawny, euthanized.

She had been acting out-of-sorts for a couple of days, so we took her to see the veterinarian. On the doctor’s advice, we took Tawny to a veterinary hospital the following day. She stayed for three days before various tests indicated her terminal situation.

Tawny was 3 years old when I wrote that column about Ruby. Had she survived to the end of next month, Tawny would have been 16 years old. We got her when she was maybe 3 months old, weighing possibly four pounds, and maybe eight inches long. She was owned by a military family in Anchorage who had twin toddler-age daughters. When we visited to see the dog and discuss price, the kids kept complaining that “she bites too hard!” We brought Tawny home that afternoon.

As she grew up, Tawny developed a beautiful long-haired, red with black highlights coat. She came with the biggest brown eyes you could imagine. She knew how to use those eyes and facial expressions to melt your heart and get whatever she wanted! She had the sweetest personality and liked everybody she met — and they liked her back!

The dog groomer used to say, “That Tawny, she just wags her tail!”

I had just retired, but my wife was still working. The day after her arrival, I took Tawny outside to see the yard. She immediately disappeared into the tall grass and woods bordering our lot. I frantically searched for her for almost an hour, checking with all the neighbors. When I returned home, Tawny was sitting on the deck wondering why nobody was there to let her back in the building.

We would take Tawny, on a leash, for walks on the gravel road in front of our house. She would often pick up small sticks and carry them back home. My wife said she was helping collect wood for the woodstove. Other times, Tawny would pick up some debris and bring it home. She was being a “good little citizen” by picking up roadside trash.

Tawny enjoyed wading. She would blow bubbles out her nose while trying to pick up an underwater stick and would try to scale any fish we might land if she was allowed. She loved to go for rides and after we got our small motorhome, would ride on my wife’s lap while looking out the window behind the couch. As we added more dachshunds to the family, everyone with a different look and personality, Tawny would be the good big sister, teaching the newcomers the appropriate lessons and establishing the social hierarchy.

One of the funniest moments I remember from her puppyhood involved a winter walk. The snow berm beside the road was about 14-inches tall and hard as a rock. A moose had stepped on the top edge while crossing the road before the snow had hardened overnight. Tawny climbed up the berm and enjoyed walking it like a tightrope. When she came to the moose footprint, she leaned over the hole to take a deep sniff. She slipped and fell headfirst into the footprint. Only her hind legs and tail stuck out of the hole.

I cracked up and was laughing so hard I had difficulty retrieving her from her predicament. She, of course, was highly indignant that I was laughing. After shaking off and regaining her dignity, we headed home. My wife also cracked up when I told her the story that evening.

Tawny was family. She was the matriarch of the group. She was probably the sweetest, most docile, and loving little dog we’ve ever owned. Her presence will be solely missed!

Howard Delo is a retired fisheries biologist with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. This column is the opinion of the writer and does not necessarily reflect the views of the Mat-Su Valley Frontiersman or its parent company, Wick Communications. You can leave Delo a message by emailing sports@frontiersman.com.