Tex, the singing cowboy dog

I have made mention of my dog, Tex. Tex was 'adopted' from the Atlanta Humane Society. On the morning that Kate, Cindy and I drove up to Atlanta to look for dogs, we had travelled to Atlanta specifically to get a dog for the dog we already owned, which was Molly, my Brittany Spaniel. Molly was given to me as a gift by my friend, Don Conkle. Don or his father had a female Brittany Spaniel who was with puppies. When the puppies were born, Don allowed me to go over to his dad's house and pick out a puppie. The puppy we picked was a fat little butterball of a female, which I named Molly after several great-aunts in my family tree. I always thought it was good to name dogs after members of the family. My grandfather had named an English Setter he owned after my mother. The dog's name was Annie and she was sweet. Later, Annie had puppies and one of the puppies was given to a friend of my grandfather. He, in turn, named the dog after my grandfather.

When Molly was young she was a wild thing who never got enough exercise to cause her to want to settle down. Every picture of Molly as a young dog had a wildness in the eyes which was quite evident. There were not many pictures of Molly because Molly was always on the move. When Kate was a toddler, she was interviewed by someone at the Griffin Daily News. Kate was asked several standard questions, one of which was, what is your pet peeve? Kate answered, my dad's dog, Molly. We were never quite sure how much Kate understood about the phrase, pet peeve, but the reference to Molly seemed quite appropriate.

Anyway, when Molly was about ten years old, she was diagnosed with tumors in her intestines. The veterinarian told me she had about six months to live. Six years later, Molly was starting to feel her age and we noticed that when she was around younger dogs she perked up and ran around like a young puppie. The veterinarian suggested that we get a young dog for Molly. The advice we had received from the veterinarian in the past was so accurate and helpful, we immediately considered the possibility of getting another dog.

So the three of us headed up to the Atlanta Humane Society and looked at the dogs they had for 'adoption.' We saw big dogs, little dogs, medium sized dogs, furry dogs, skinny dogs, fat dogs, hairless dogs, every kind of dog imaginable. As Kate and Cindy and I looked over the different varieties available, I came across a short, long-eared, tan-colored dog which looked like a beagle with long ears. I inspected the information sheet which had been filled out by the young woman who had placed the dog up for 'adoption.' I found that the dog was named 'Wrecks', which we always assumed was a reference to the college alma mater of the former owner. 'Wrecks' was half Bassett Hound and half Laborador Retriever, a hybrid which apparently has become quite popular, now known as a 'bassador.' The information about the dog's house-training status was interesting since it said he was house-trained and then that entry was scratched out and then 'not house-trained' was written in its place. We didn't know what to expect.

Anyway, we took 'Wrecks' out of his pen and tried to interact with him. He seemed rather friendly and playful, and before long Kate, Cindy and I had decided that he was the one. We then filled out all of the sheets required for 'adoption' and bought him some toys, a bandana decorated with cowboys, and some treats. After approval of the adoption papers, we placed 'Wrecks' in our car and drove home.

Almost immediately from the start, we had difficulty remembering the name of the dog. We called him almost everything which remotely sounded like 'Wrecks' except the actual name. Having already named one dog, 'Georgia', I quickly decided that there would be no dog named 'Wrecks' in my house, so we had changed his name to 'Rex', a good traditional dog name. Nevertheless, we never could adjust to the name.

As we sat around our living room, playing with the dog, calling him whatever came to mind, I suddenly came out with 'Tex'. As soon as I called him Tex, the dog began to bark loudly and jumped up into the air, like we had said the magic word. As we watched his cavorting, I turned to Cindy and informed her that it appeared that the dog wanted to be called 'Tex." That is how our dog named himself.

Tex has been a good dog. It was appropriate that he was called 'Tex' since we had bought him a cowboy bandana at his adoption and his fur was the same burnt orange color they are partial to at the University of Texas in Austin. Tex is also a singing cowboy. He likes to sing any song that has his name mentioned in it, including the Texas fight song and Yellow Rose of Texas. He prefers country and western and if he is feeling up to it will sing without any music to sing with. As he gets older and whiter, he would much rather sit in a chair and sleep. I suppose that any dog with as much hound dog as Tex would appreciate a good song and a nap.

And Tex does like peanut butter.