Gypsy

I can hardly write about Gypsy without tears coming to my eyes, and she was the first daughter I ever lost.

Gypsy came to us as a fat, round, puppy from a litter of nine champion German Shepard dogs. The father Kaiser, a one hundred and sixty pound fearsome patrol dog, and the mother Lady who was just too kind and loving to bite anyone like she was required to do in her job. Gypsy had her mother's disposition, but her father's size and exquisite beauty and she possessed the most undog like characteristics I have hever seen in a dog. She was unique, and one of a kind.

When she was about six months old I killed two snow shoe rabbits one night on patrol, and threw them in our backyard that was her home; thinking that they would give her something to eat over several days. The next morning when I went outside to check on her, she had eaten both rabbits weighing easily ten pounds a piece, and she was so full her belly was literally dragging the ground. Nothing was left of the two rabbits, she ate the body, head, hide and feet.....all gone.

Gypsy grew into a large, powerful dog and even when she was young she would bowl our children over when they played with her. One day she found a 2x8, by 2 inch thick, by ten foot long pinewood board in the yard and she grabbed one end of the board in her teeth and began pushing it around the yard as fast as she could run. She had a lot of fun doing this until at full speed the opposite end of the board would hit a barrier and she would be vaulted ten feet into the air, and then land on her back; hitting the ground with a load thump. She would wait until she recovered the wind in her lungs and then repeat the whole event. In a weeks time she had shredded this large board into tooth pick size slivers.

When she was about a year old we began to see that she had developed the first of her undoglike characteristics. The boys were having fun one day throwing a soccer ball back and forth to each other, and they discovered that Gypsy would not chase the ball, but she would chase the shadow of the ball on the ground. She would chase shadows for hours, but never see the object creating the shadows.

As big as Gypsy was she became a house dog, because she decided that she was a family member, and that she was the oldest child. She would pout if she was not fed before the children were fed, she would fight to sit at my wife's feet each night, and would push the children out of the way if they dared to get too close. She was intensely jealous of the other children, but she never bit ot hurt them in any way.

When a stranger came up to our house, Gypsy would bark loudly to alert us inside that someone was there, and then she would stand between the stranger and the door, with the fur on her neck standing straight up and muttering a low growl from deep in her throat until I or my wife came to rescue the stranger from this very intimidating dog. The second that we appeared, her defensive posture quit and she would walk up to the stranger and offer to be friends. As long as she was alive she never failed to guard my family, and although she never bit anyone, that fear was always there that she might, which was a tremendous deterent to unwanted strangers.

When Gypsy was on duty I didn't fear much for my family's safety while I was out on patrol.

I bred Gypsy to a champion German Sheppard patrol dog when she was about three and she had a litter of ten puppies. From almost the moment they were born Gypsy took control of their little lives and tried to teach them to be good dogs. One day when the pups were about three months old Gypsy kept coming up to me wanting me to follow her. I was preoccupied doing something else and I wasn't paying as much attention to her as wanted, and so she grabbed me by the pants leg and began pulling me into the garage where puppies were located.

This may sound unbelieveable but when I walked into the garage she had her puppies lined up in a row, all sitting on their haunches, looking straight ahead just like soldiers in formation. One of the puppies dared to move a little bit more than Gypsy allowed and so she walked up to the pup and batted it in the head with her paw. This little pup recovered quickly, got right back in formation, much chasened and stood at straighter attention than before and never daring to move again. Gypsy wanted me to inspect her puppies. Every day she could get me to do it, until all of her puppies were gone, she would insist that I inspect them, and she was a harsh disciplinarian, not tolerating any motion in the line from the pups while I was there.

When my inspection of her puppies was done, and after I praised her adequately for being a good mom and scratching her head a minute, she would release the pups and they became normal rambunctious puppies again.

Gypsy could discern my mood before I ever stepped out of my patrol car when I returned home. She somehow knew when I was coming home long before I arrived. My wife had told me that when Gypsy suddenly got up from where she was lying and looked towards the door she always knew that I was coming home. I could see my house a full one half mile before I came to it, and many times I would be greeted by the sight of Gypsy standing in the yard, her tail wagging waiting for me to come home. She seemed to be able to sense when I was upset about something, or that I was in a bad mood, because if I was in a bad mood she would hide. Not because she feared me, but because she sensed my mood and wanted no part of it. She was a happy dog.

Gypsy lived for ten years with our family, dying from having the tendon from a turkey leg lodged in her throat during Thanksgiving 1989. My oldest son still mourns the fact that he fed the bone to her that took her life. We mourned her loss as intensely as we have mourned the death of any family member, and we all have Gypsy stories. This story is only a small tribute to Gypsy and what she was, and I could write a book about her strangeness, and the almost mystical spirituality she possessed in her life. She was truly a blessing animal to me and my family and I miss her every day.

If it is possible to have our beloved pets with us in the next life, and I have no reason to believe that we cannot; I look forward to greeting Gypsy there. A smile on her face, her tail wagging, glad to see me coming home.