Sometimes you open your front door to those in need, and sometimes your back door is pushed open by someone you never know you needed.
Jeb (we changed his name to Copper) pushed his way into my home and heart with all the persistence and patience only a Coonhound could have. He was my first taste of the country.
If Copper was human, he would be one of those old men sitting at the local diner drinking coffee and shooting the breeze with everyone who walked in. He would call across the small room to greet an old friend and mingle with the families that were not “from around here.” He would tease the children and have all the patience in the world. I know this, because Copper was not just any dog. He had all the wisdom of an old man, and the playfulness of a puppy.
I first met Copper when I went to see the house we would soon rent. He ran up to me, tail wagging and bawling to let everyone in the valley know that someone new was there. As a man stepped out of the truck in the driveway he called, “Quiet, Jeb!” This did not calm the dog that was now sitting in between my legs looking straight up at me with chocolate-brown eyes. He licked my hand as I scratched his chest. He followed my husband, the owner and me around the farm, and waited patiently at the door while we were inside the house. As we all were standing outside shooting the breeze, Copper came trotting up the yard and placed himself in his favorite spot, the center of attention. As the owner patted Copper on the head, he told us that this was no hunting dog; he was afraid of every loud noise. Due to this fact, he couldn’t find anyone to take him. He was just a stinky barn dog. Maybe it was the look in my eyes that gave away my immediate affection for this dog, and when my husband and I were asked to throw some food outside for the Coonhound once and a while, I said yes right away. Little did I know my relationship with Copper would grow into something much more in such a short time.
After moving in, it was common to see Copper happily rolling around in horse manure. I would chuckle to myself when he would look up to the house, see me, and his tail would wag his entire body. Within a few weeks, his bawling in the middle of the night wouldn’t wake me up, and in the morning, he was there, prancing from front paw to paw saying goodbye as I drove off to work. When I would go on walks, he would always find me, trot 10 feet ahead, always checking behind to make sure I was still there.
Soon enough, the house sold, and we were preparing to move to our property. I had a 90 pound predicament. The owners had put out ads for the dog and no one was interested in a Black and Tan Coonhound that was afraid of lightening, thunder, gun shot and men. Even though my husband said no, I somehow managed to convince him to bring Copper with us. He told me that there was no way that Copper would be living inside smelling like that. But, I had a solution for everything. I would take him to the groomers, get him neutered, bathed, and his nails clipped. He would be a whole new dog! On this trip to the groomers, I made my first rookie mistake.
I put Copper in the backseat of our car, and started to drive the 20 miles into town. Copper was not a stupid dog, even though he had that look about him. He was persistent, and he had patience. Even with all my efforts, by the time we were in town, Copper was in my lap with his head out the drivers side window. It was then I understood why Coonhounds ride in the back of pickup trucks. After an interesting drive, and being hit in the face with a constantly wagging tail, we were at the vet. A day later I picked up a neatly groomed, nice smelling, neutered Copper. When we got home he jumped out of the car, our two other dogs didn’t know what to do. He smelled different, and he was… less… “manly”. After an hour or so of figuring out the hierarchy, Copper went in the house, hopped up on the ottoman, and gave the other dogs a look that rang out loud and clear, this is where I will lay, and you two will not bother me with your silly dog games. And that is how it was.
There were some food disputes, some wandering that needed to end, and some teaching an old dog a few new tricks. But, Copper learned quickly and I would like to think he was happy to give up a few freedoms to be inside during a storm and drink fresh water whenever he wanted. He was always there, always a trusted figure in the house. Whenever I was sad, he would sit by me, rest his chin on my lap, and stare into my soul with eyes that would melt my heart. He would seem to shrug and let me know that things would be okay, and that I should try to be more like a dog, for sometimes it was easier.
Copper could be trusted with all types of children and became the constant companion of my niece Maddie when she came to visit. He approached visitors head on with kindness in his face. Everyone loved Copper.
Once grey fall afternoon, my husband was building the front porch and commented that he heard Copper bawling all afternoon. The echo of Copper’s voice made me think he was in the silo. Four o’clock, dinner time was approaching and he was no where to be found….just his calling out. We went to investigate the barn. We found Copper looking from the hay mow into the barn, unable to figure out how to get down. We assumed that in his excitement of chasing a raccoon he climbed the very old, very rickety, hand made ladder that was leaning up against the wall into the mow. My husband went up into the hay mow as I placed a 2x 6x 6 foot board against the edge of the opening to make a ramp. My husband nudged Copper as my youngest and I grabbed the big dog and eased him down the board.
When we had to put our 16 year old German Short Hair Pointer down, the entire house felt the sadness. Caliber didn’t want to play as much, and Copper seemed to not have any energy left in his old bones. When I looked at him, he just looked tired. He had a hard life out doors. He had scars on his chest, ears and hip from unknown disputes. He had torn ACLs from running on uneven ground. When it was time I went to the vet alone with Copper. I grieved for days. This special dog was buried next to his elder, Chase.
Copper was the first friend I had in Wisconsin
