My parents’ house almost always had dogs. When I was little, our dogs were German Shepherds. My dad was a cop, had always wanted to be a cop, and we only had cop dogs. To the best of my memory, they were generally rescued from the pound (LA County Animal Care and Control) and generally always ran away. There were Thunder (GSD), Lightning (GSD), Donatello (Cocker Spaniel), Princess (Husky Puppy), Moose (Doberman), Chocolate Moose (Doberman), Winter (Husky), Trey (Husky), Popcorn (Min Pin) and Hal (GSD). To say that I was a responsible pet child would be a lie. I sucked at remembering to feed and give the dogs’ clean water. I hated picking up poop and we almost never went on walks. It is not hard to understand why the dogs we had as children ran away, but it was still sad.
For my ninth birthday, I got a German shepherd named Trevor. My parents adopted him from a woman who raised huskies for film work, and had provided most all the dogs in the movie Iron Will. I had wanted a husky, had picked out a husky, but I got Trevor. He came to live with us in Palmdale and was there when we moved to Littlerock with Hal and Winter. Hal passed first, then Winter ran away with Lobo and Trevor passed away while I was at Summer Leadership School. This resulted in the first ever 2 year stint when our house was without a dog.
Shortly before I graduated High School, my parents adopted Jimi. He came from a Slavic country and was a failed police dog candidate. He was the first dog we had who was allowed to live in the house, and the first example of how many medical problems a German shepherd could have. Every time I saw him, he had some new quirk that was a result of a medical procedure he’d needed. Ear surgery for clots, castration for testicular cancer, and a procedure where they cut the tendons in his leg that could not stop contracting. He ultimately crossed the rainbow bridge after what probably felt like a long frustrating fight with his body in 2017.
Then there was a dog on the street in front of our house. She was coloring of a shepherd and fluffy like a husky. Every day I would give her food and we’d be friends, then she would run away at the sight of my dad. Eventually, I invited her into the fence of our house and she decided to stay. Her name was OD (short for Old Dog, but we pretended it was Odessa when people asked so they wouldn’t think we were jerks). My dad did not know I was responsible for her joining our family until after she passed and to this day I am grateful that she got to spend a few years in a home with food and air conditioning. OD passed just before I moved home after my undergraduate.
Then I went to college and my parents adopted Arko from Germany. He was a working dog and a champion who had been put out to stud and was now being retired to a life of nothing. He used to howl excitedly to go on walks, he slept with his legs in the air and he plodded along with the gait of a man who had seen the world. When I visited my parents, it was OD, Jimi and Arko. Arko was very clearly the wisened leader of the group and he rarely tolerated the shenanigans of the other two. He was often the favorite, and the leader in a short story I wrote about our dogs.
In October of 2010, my parents adopted Ryder. He was an owner surrender at LA County and stole my mom’s heart. My dad thought his white coloring made him cool and he joined our family. The first few times I went to my parents’ house after they adopted Ryder, I could not pet him. He would run away from me and peer from around corners and behind objects. When held in place for me to pet, he would urinate where he stood and panic. It’s truly surprising he ever came to live with me willingly. Ryder was my mom’s best friend. He sat on her lap, gave her his paws and just genuinely only wanted to be near her. To this day, I think she is still his favorite human. Ryder behaves as though he went to cute school. I’ve never seen a dog so accomplished at looking adorable and shy. Photos of Ryder are an internet currency I cash in on to the benefit of rescues.
Early in 2014, Arko passed away. My dad was crushed as Arko was his favorite and best friend. They would sit quietly in the same room watching TV and enjoyed eating fresh fallen snow. After a few months, my dad began looking at other dogs and we adopted Duchess. Listed as Buttercup von Butters on the Westside German Shepherd Rescue page, she was not on his list of dogs to meet. However, when we arrived, the staff insisted she would be perfect for our family. The two met and have been inseparable ever since. Unfortunately, Ryder hated Duchess from first sniff and the number of fights she lost to him is ultimately the reason he moved out with me in early 2015. Duchess will eat anything and then demand more. She hates walks, people taking her ball, and any time my dad is not visually or olfactory available to her.
NoraBelle joined the family in October of 2015. I had been signed up to go on the Westside German Shepherd Rescue hike with the shelter dogs, but couldn’t attend due to a motorcycle accident and hospitalization. My parents went and my mom met NoraBelle. After a hike to Griffith Park Observatory, my mom was smitten and they fostered Nora for a few short weeks before determining that she would never leave again. She was knicknamed Nora the Explorer and managed to find herself skunked more than once. She chased anything that moved and always had a derp tongue. NoraBelle crossed the rainbow bridge in January 2018 and it was one of the saddest days we’d seen in a while.
These are the dogs that shaped our house and our lives. I learned from my child failures to be a better dog parent and Ryder is a spoiled rotten momma’s boy who I wish will live forever. Duchess is still ruling my parents’ house and I hope she gets a sibling soon before she gets too used to eating all the food. In the gallery, you will find photos of as many of these pups as I can find. They may be gone, but I will never forget them.
