Ginger

 

We had a raft of pets – or should I say I did – but only one took both Mom and Dad’s heart. Our schnauzer, Ginger, was actually my brothers but a divorce sent her our way and we willingly and quickly assented. She had spent many days and nights with us as it was so full-time was just an extension of what we were already used to.

I remember her being delegated to my bedroom that first night we had her. I placed a basket in one corner of the floor and climbed into my bunk bed (top bunk). While I tried to go to sleep, Ginger had other ideas. I’d hear her get out of her basket and her toenails clip-cloppping across the bare wooden floor.

I’d get up, put her back in her basket and tell her to “stay there”. But as soon as I got back into bed she’d be up and exploring the room. Mostly she walked to the closed door and stood there, hoping to be let out.

Eventually that’s exactly what Dad did. Ginger jumped up onto Dad’s fold-out sofa, curled up beside him, and blissfully slept the rest of the night. She only wanted a real bed with a warm person. She slept with Dad the rest of her life.

Those initial years were at our Miamisburg home. When we moved to Moraine (buying the house that was my brothers) she found that Mom went to bed earlier than the rest of us and she’d join Mom in bed until Dad followed later. Then she would switch beds for the rest of the night.

I tried to have her sleep with me but she’d have none of it.

On vacation, wherever Dad bedded down, so, too, did Ginger follow. There was only one place for her at night and that was nestled warmly beside my father. He kept a baby blanket nearby and always covered her with it. She knew she had him wrapped around her paw.

When at last Pinehaven became our home, Ginger again found her spot on Dad’s fold-out sofa bed. The two of them never spent a night apart

Though she was close to me, Dad was her alpha wolf. If I’d have her out in the yard on a leash, she could detect his car returning long before it arrived and she’d begun heaving the leash in the direction of the garage. She had a sixth sense about his location.

In those years when I was still working, Mom and Dad would often go out for breakfast and Ginger would find a spot in a living room to await their return. I’d hear her jump down from a recliner when she heard them arriving, shaking her collar and running to the door.

Twice we took her with us on vacation to Bear Lake. It was quite startling to her to watch small waves lap the shore. At first she would run back and watch the wave break from a distance. Eventually she trusted them and would walk close to the water.

Once she tried to jump out an open window of the car when she saw a nearby dog, Mom held onto the leash and pulled her back inside. Another close call was when an insurance agent came to collect. He pulled the door open and Ginger flew out. Mom followed, leaving the insurance agent in our living room alone.

There was nothing we valued more than Ginger. Not a single possession was more important.

Like all dogs, she learned a vocabulary that was quite extensive. She could be sound asleep and her ears would perk at the word “treat”. She loved being held and watching squirrels in the yard (we could not mention a squirrel without her being at our feet). She loved riding in the car near rural fields and seeing horses and cows (she would bark and scamper from window to window).

We once made a list of all the words she knew and we came up with nearly a hundred. Considering we could not translate her barks, she proved more intelligent than we.

Somehow she developed a fear of certain things overhead. If we drove through a bridge with a top above the road, she’d cower and duck as each metal girder passed by. If she saw a hot air balloon passing overhead she’d cast her eyes downward (out of sight, out of mind).

Luckily she had few medical problems through the years. Once she had surgery for bladder stones. She came home from surgery a bit dazed – but she came home. Dad would not permit her to spend the night anywhere but with him. Later that evening she jumped up onto the bed with only slightly-reduced agility.

She had a few bumps (subaceous cysts) removed and anal sacks were a repeating problem.

Once I pulled her slowly out from beneath the bed by her hind legs. For days she limped and I felt as though I had done serious, though inadvertent damage.

One year when she was a pup, we had family in for Thanksgiving. They brought another schnauzer and the two of them were not on friendly terms. When a relative tried to break up a fight, he was bitten, probably by Ginger.

Plenty of times I’d have been bitten, too, had I tried to lift her off Dad’s lap. I never saw it as any more than her asserting herself in the best way she could. It was simply a form of communication, one we could immediately understand.

If there’s a problem with having a dog it’s their short life span. Ginger was born in 1977 and lived just eleven years. Her final days were met with difficulty in getting her breath and the vet diagnosed it as lung cancer.

When she was finally put down, we were all distraught, none more than Dad. I can still see him walking alone in the yard after he returned home without his “dearest friend”. It almost makes having a dog too hard to ever consider again.

In the end she was buried in a pet cemetery and we three visited the grave many times. After Dad died and was cremated, we had Ginger disinterred and cremated, too. The two belonged together for all eternity.

© 2021 William G Schmidt