Cy came into the family by way of the Humane shelter.

Daughter Sandra had gone off to the University of Washington to pursue her college training. She had decided to room with two other girls, also students at the "U." Just weeks into the academic year the girls' rental house was burgled, which really freaked them out. Sandra did what any college student would do: she called home! "Dad," she said, "I need a dog!" and immeditely unloaded about the break-in. So, what's a dad to do? I jumped into my vehicle, sped into Seattle, picked up our anxious offspring, and headed for the humane shelter.

Upon arrival, we found a fenced compound with what seemed like dozens of mixed breeds milling around. Letting ourselves in, Sandra immediately spotted a Siberian Husky pup racing toward her. Thinking it was welcoming her, she spread her arms, only to have the cunning dog speed past her and out through the still open gate!

Having finally corralled the guy, with him now firmly in Sandra's embrace, I asked whether this was really what she wanted. "Oh, yes!"

Bad choice. Huskys are born to RUN, not guard and not to be a leisure companion. But the deal was done. I took daughter and pup home.

Not long later, dad gets a frantic call. "DAD!! The dog pooped on the basement floor!" "Well, did you make a provision for his potty needs?" "...noooo." Did I mention this was the kid we sent off to university?

At the end of the semester, Sandra's roommates had to drop out of school, so Sandra found herself alternate housing in another residential area. I provided a chain-link kennel which we set up on the lawn next to the house. Not long till Sandra called to complain that Cy was howling, according to neigbors, when Sandra was away. Well, duh... howling is huskies' forte!

Not long later, dad gets another call — and again, not just to exchange pleasantries. "Dad! Cy's GONE!" So off again I go to rescue girl and dog, scouring the neighborhood to no avail. In a last-ditch hope I suggest checking the Seattle Humane shelter. Bingo! There is Cy in a cage looking sheepish. Dad whips out his wallet and pays the ransom, packs up grumbling daughter and miscreant pup and heads out. On the way back, I ask the reason for the glum expression. "Cy hates me." "Say, WHAT?!" "Well, he wouldn't stay home..." "Sandra, huskies, by nature, simply need to RUN — it has nothing to do with your relationship."

Time (not much!) goes by... Another phone call, informing me that Sandra would really appreciate it if I would adopt Cy. Oh, how the heart-strings get pulled by sweet (but conniving?) daughters. Irresistable.

So Cy was emancipated from a situation dad should have anticipated, given the breed of choice. More in right column.

Cy spent a number of years in the care of Sandra's mom and dad. Not a bad thing in some respects — it provided disciplined workouts, what with walking the neighborhood daily with him. He enjoyed a handsome doghouse built just for him. He had squirrels to capture his attention regularly from his domicile on the second floor deck.

There were downsides too. Not having a large enclosed yard in which to roam. And the saddest event of all: Lola and George, on a 4th-of-July, went off to enjoy the city's fireworks display. It hadn't occurred to George that the fireworks would traumatize the poor dog. Upon return, it was discovered that Cy, attempting to escape the deck out of shear terror, had lept through the balusters of the deck railing only to be hung up by the hips. George was conscience-stricken for his egregious oversight as he extracted the poor creature. The dog was obviously sore for a while, but with no apparent ongoing damage.

Eventually it became obvious he was suffering from arthrytis. Then came the discovery of a lump on the back of his neck. "Putting him down" at the Tacoma Humane Shelter was one of the hardest things George had ever done. He said "The look in Cy's eyes as I abandoned him just seared holes in my heart."

He was a dogsled-type on the neighborhood walks, and could be demanding as he begged for attention through the glass doors to the deck, but he was a GOOD dog. "Loyal" may be stretching it, but he was loved and now really missed.

Cy
Our old Siberian Husky r.i.p.