His name was Tony Montana. It was a misnomer if there ever were one. Half Egyptian Pharaoh Hound, half Staffordshire Terrier, his ears huge and pointy, his eyes almond, his heart, of gold.
We met one day while he was living under a tarp without any food or water. I decided to take him (and the human he resided with; more (but not much) on that later.) to a better life. Our first stop was the closest store where I purchased 2 bowls and dog food. Our second stop was my campsite in middle Tennessee.
Upon arrival, I laid a blanket on the ground in front of my van, put the bowls down and filled them. From that moment on, as far as he was concerned, he was MY dog. He never listened to a single thing his 'human' said again. This became a blessing in disguise as 6 months down the road, said human and I were not destined to co-reside with each other. He spent the next 4 weeks convincing me to keep the dog. We both knew that Tony Montana believed me to be his 'owner', but I wanted to make sure this person knew I wasn't trying to steal his dog, the dog chose me!
From that moment on, Tony and I spent 10 years together. The first five years, we were living in a van and traveling around this beautiful country. If you'd ever seen the sticker that notes, "Dog is my co-pilot", that's exactly how it was. I took the passenger seat out and replaced it with a bench seat he could sit or lay down on. He spent most of our actual travel time checking air quality out the window and taking the occasional nap in back on the bed. He was perfect road dog. He never barked at strangers if I were in a store unless they tried to get into the van. Most didn't bother, he'd be sitting in the driver seat protecting his home. (I never trained him to protect me, that was all his choice) Tony came when called, never chased cats and got along with all other animals. The only time he'd bark incessantly at anyone was when he knew that person was not of good character, and he was ALWAYS right about that too!
When I worked at (renaissance and music) festivals, he was always there, unassuming, quietly laying in a corner and listening to all the passerby say how cute he was (he was, he knew it.) laying on a pillow minding his own business. He was never distracted by all the noise, commotion and strange goings on around him. He seemed to know that I was busy working and he just had to chill out for a while.
Tony had this innate ability to just know what I needed or wanted out of him. I never formally trained him at all, but when I would say "where's my dog?" he'd come around the corner. If I were to leave home, he'd protect it to the death until I got back. I've been told his growl was not to be ignored. When around my grandchildren, he would let them pull, poke, prod and pinch and he never once nipped and always looked at me like "When will they grow out of this?" His good nature was beyond any I'd ever experienced with a dog. He was so well behaved that he even became a 'road dog' role model to some folks I traveled with.
When I got off the road, we both had to transition, and he was right there with me as we lived in 3 states over the next 5 years. Whether we lived with family in Michigan, an apartment in Texas or a room-share in Asheville, he was always welcomed by his future roommates after a few minutes of being introduced. Tony's smile and wagging tail were always evident and his only flaw was having a penchant for preferring the couch to the floor.
I miss my dog, the companion, the buddy, the partner he was, but I'll always be grateful that he decided I was the one to spend his time with...what an honor.
