alex_frame

Alex

We're not positive how old Alex is. We got him when he was around two, maybe less, maybe more. We give him a nice round 8 for age. My sister-in-law moved in with us for a while, bringing her three girls. We live on a busy street with a lot of foot traffic as well as motor traffic, so we needed another set of protective eyes.

I researched dogs for a while, and found the Great Pyrenees can be quite stubborn, but extremely loyal and protective of their flock. I also have a fondness for hounds from dogs my parents had/have, so with that in mind, I

went through Petsmart and started

looking for a dog in earnest. I knew I couldn't deal with a puppy with six kids in the house. On top of that, I wanted a dog that would meet all six kids to see how he or she responded before submitting them to six children 10 and under. As I looked through page after page of available dogs, I found the Great Pyrenees tab and clicked on it.

From the side, Alex's eyes look positively Egyptian, almost like the Eye of Ra depicted in the ancient ruins. That was the shot that caught my eye. Half Pyrenees? Good choice for kids. Half red-tick coon hound? A little neurotic, but not as stubborn as a Pyr. I read the description carefully. An adult dog, over a year, dew claws clipped, shots, neutered, and...good with children.

I wanted to see him, first and foremost. I drove 45 minutes away to his Petsmart host store. His cage was large enough for him to sprawl in, but definitely not high enough to contain him if he really wanted out, but he didn't. He was happy watching the world go by.

I found him right away, those Egyptian eyes of his even more intriguing up close and personal. I even knew his name already, so I said it.

He opened his eyes and stood. Alex's only lethal weapon is his tail. My house isn't kid-proof; it's tail-proof! I was surprised at how calm he was, sitting in an open cage in a very busy store with all manners of other breeds barking and playing around him. I took a leash from the handler and took him outside. One very affectionate walk around the lot and I knew he was the dog for us.

Unfortunately, Alex had one more test to pass. I really didn't want to leave him; he really didn't want me to go. I explained to his handler that I needed him to pass the kid test. I couldn't subject him to such high-caliber kids unless I knew he'd be as calm around them as he was around me. The next weekend, my sister-in-law and four of the high-octane kids came along.

Alex remembered me. His hind end wiggled and the tail nearly knocked over his enclosure. He became a little more excited, then, but only bounced, not leapt. He's right at 100 pounds, you know. He saw the kids and enthusiastically pulled me out into the play area.

The kids attacked him, my niece hopping on his back and my other niece grabbing that wonderful tail. It goes full circle, like chopper blades, when he's really excited. My son dove under his belly. They managed to canoodle Alex to the ground and two kids to each side rested their heads on his back and belly.

Couldn't ask for anything more out of a dog. When we went to go back inside, he herded the kids for us - wildest thing I'd ever seen, just a few quick loops to get the kids all together - and we took him home.

They used him as a pillow while they played video games or watched TV. He never barked in the house, but when outside with the kids, he barked at every person passing by. We trusted him so much and so quickly that, if one of us needed to go inside while the kids played for a quick trip to the bathroom or to refill drinks, we told the kids, if someone came by, to go stand next to Alex until the person went out of sight.

My sister-in-law left, and Alex got to stretch his legs a bit more, but the yard is his, and he knows it. In the house, he's not territorial whatsoever. He gave that job to Mr. Purr when we got him.

One night, I took Alex out before heading to bed. We have to cross the carport to get to the back yard where I can put him on his heavy-duty chain. He does not like to be outside unless the kids are with him anymore, so until he needs to go, he doesn't want out. I took him by the collar with my right hand and opened the door with my left in a crossover fashion, and stepped outside.

The bag of trash rattled and Alex lunged forward, me still holding onto the collar. In an instant, I saw why; a raccoon sat on the open porch, raiding our trash. I know the raccoon felt cornered, but there was plenty of room for him to hop up on the rail and disappear into grass on the side of the house. Unfortunately, the raccoon took offense at me, flying at me with drool dripping from its jowls.

I had no time to think but, then again, I didn't have to. As the raccoon careened toward my face, a big red-and-white blur, my arm still attached and moving with it, collided with the raccoon's face, spinning him all the way around.

The raccoon wasn't done. He still didn't like me for disturbing his dinner. He hit the railing and turned around, and Alex lunged once more (my hand still anchored to his collar), and successfully chased the raccoon off the porch.

I now have what I affectionately term "my raccoon shoulder." It acts up now and again, but, you know? I liked my face just the way it was. My family thinks it great fun to hand me a box and watch me shake it cautiously before I open it. I know, eventually, there's going to be a squeaky thing with a tail in that box to remind me of the raccoon incident. My sister makes a great raccoon noise. She saves it for quiet occasions. She's good at picking out when I least expect things.

So, here he is, my Alex. I still can't figure out how I held onto his collar the entire time. He's one strong dog, but worth every pound.