|It was our privilege to know, for a short while, one of the most extraordinary and spectacular dogs ever sent to grace the lives of 2-leggeds. Honey was, in fact, an Indigo dog, a little "person in a dog-suit", as we have said so often. We believe that along with the spiritual evolution of humanity, the animal kingdom is moving ever upward as well, and she exemplified our theory with aplomb.
Honey did most of the things the average dog does, but used her time here with us as a chance to exhibit her humor, exuberance, freedom of spirit, and, of course, Love.
Honey was known to:
Take our hand or sleeve gently, but enthusiastically, in her mouth and attempt to lead us to the door. She did this when she wanted us to let her out, when she wanted us to go out with her or when we announced that we would all be going "bye-bye".
Take it a step further and try to open the door herself. Her efforts to go out were futile, as the door opens inward, but many times she succeeded in coming in when the door was not tightly latched. She understood precisely what the handle did and made the gesture of using it, even after she resigned herself to the fact that she could never let herself out without help.
Operate a pull-toy with her teeth. When she was new to us, I gave here a small black and white plush mouse that had belonged to one of our late cats. I was interested to see what her reaction would be when I pulled the string and the little mouse made a buzzing circle after I pulled the string. I expected her to be alarmed and perplexed, as I had seen the cats and other dogs react. Not Honey. She laid down, put the mouse between her front paws (hands), took hold of the string with her teeth, pulled it, watched the mousey dance, and repeated the process many times until she lost interest.
Play with her toy, which she knew by the name "Squeaky" for hours, especially before her new companion brother, Pal, came to live with us. As you can guess, her toy would squeak when she would squeeze it with her teeth or put her paw on it. One of her favorite antics was to jump up on the bed with Squeaky, flip it up in the air about 5 feet, just to watch where it might land. Another was to edge it ever closer to the edge of the bed until it fell off, making a noise as it fell, then pounce from bed to floor to retrieve it once more. Occasionally she would take off into the woods with Squeaky, leaving there until one day I realized it had been gone for days. I would ask her, "Where's Squeaky?" and she would take off like a bolt of lightening and bring it back with glee and delight, happy that I was participating in her game.
Grasp our hand or arm with hers, to investigate what was in our hand or to implore us to "DO". Her "fingers" were quite long, and she used them dexterously.
Turn down the comforter (and sheet) and move the pillows into a more favorable position before reclining. One or more pillows had to be snuggle-able and one had to be where she could put her head.
Play headgames with us. Many times as we prepared to leave she would take off running into the woods. We fretted and frowned and uttered angry words, knowing that we couldn't leave her unchaperoned and we dared not drive away for fear she would follow at a distance without our knowledge. Even though this happened numerous times, Mom and Dad never learned that when we were at our wits end, she would appear out of nowhere and wait for us to open the door of the van.
Play more headgames with us. She would come to the door, scratch or just perch on the step if the door was open. This was to accomplish one of two things. She was either there to survey the "interior"; see if anything of interest was happening and who might be inside (as in "Is Pal in there?") OR it was to entice Pal or one of us to join her outside for fun.
See how fast she could run without taking flight. For that matter, maybe she DID take flight. The rest of the family knew to be on alert when Honey came back from one of her running loops. It delighted her to ricochet off our bodies as she passed by. She sometimes got carried away in the cabin and used the bed for the same purpose. Amazingly, she could change direction when in mid-flight, go over or under one of the other dogs, sending them into paranoia. Eventually, they learned to avoid collisions in advance.
Go hounding. As most likely 90 percent American foxhound, she had that hounding bay, louder than a bullhorn in closed spaces. As a youngster and new to our family, it took her about a month before she knew she could bark. When she barked for the first time, she looked around at us in total shock. Then as she became acquainted with her abilities, she took to her expeditions in the forest, chasing the ever illusive rabbits or the scent of a deer that had long since passed through the woods. Her nose took her on many adventures, the details of which we will never know, nor will we have any way of knowing how far she traveled, but knowing that her "bay' was high decibel, we knew she must have been very, very far away when her echo was barely audible. (She never caught a rabbit, much to our relief.) These expeditions sometimes lasted for a couple of hours.
Love to wrestle with brother Pal (short for Paladin, her protector). House rules forbid such antics inside the cabin, but now and then when Mom and Dad were distracted, the two of them would wrestle on the bed until the naughty "kids" were ushered outside by one of us. Outside, the two would wrestle, chase and tease untiringly. Both eventually had knicks and cuts and more often, cactus on their backsides from rolling around on the ground. Honey, by the way, had a rather unpleasant "warning" from big brother Beau shortly after she arrived on the premises. She evidently tried to come in the door at the same time as Beau, so to exert his position, he turned around and snapped at her. Gentle Beau would not have intended to hurt her, but accidentally caught the tip of one of her ears and took a bite, so one of her lovely long ears exhibited a curved "bite-mark", where the piece was missing.
Watch videos or dvds. Not just animals, but she would observe people and listen to their conversations. She could watch animals when they were not enlarged on screen, as you might think, but could follow the action, even when viewed from a distance.
Love to hug. She would jump onto the bed, stand on her hind legs and put her "arms" on our shoulders, wanting to make as much full body contact as possible. She would put her head beside ours or snuggle down on our chest, nuzzling to get the full flavor of intimacy. In bed, (yes, she was allowed to sleep with us) she would frequently position herself so that her head was on Alex's shoulder as we watched videos. During the night she managed to have front feet touching one of us, back feet touching the other. If we moved away as we tossed and turned, she would get up and reposition herself to her best advantage.
Our Honey was an elegant, long-legged little creature, a free-spirit, sent here to bring us joy, humor, to test our patience and perhaps to rekindle the depths of our compassion and ability to Love Unconditionally, the specialty of our canine companions.
Thank you very much
from everyone at MRN.