Our One-eyed Boxer Named Brownie II : Pet May Not Have Had the Looks but was Still Beloved
After reading the book, I couldn’t help but think back to the 1980s when my late mom probably could have made a claim to owning the world’s ugliest dog. Now beauty is in the eye of the beholder but even my mom, who loved her dogs more than she loved her kids (not really), would have had a hard time calling her boxer beautiful. Suffice it to say, Brownie II – that was one of her many monikers – wasn’t going to win any best-in-show contests.
First of all, Brownie II lived out the remaining five years of her life minus an eye. She lost her right eye when she was hit by a car and we owed a huge debt of gratitude to our veterinarian for saving the dog’s life. On top of that, Brownie II probably was a good 15 pounds overweight. That’s not a small amount for a boxer whose optimum weight is 55-60 pounds. Brownie II probably tipped the scales at 70-75 pounds. Then there was the matter of her severe halitosis.
So now you get a picture of Brownie II – an overweight dog with one eye and very bad breath. Of course, her personality was great and we loved her no less. Despite the weight isssue, Brownie II made it past her 11th birthday before we had to put her to sleep. That’s not bad for a boxer. For some reason, boxers generally do not have long life spans. Now I’m no dog expert but maybe it has something to do with
their hyperactivity.
Anyway, Brownie II also may have been the only dog with five – that’s right, five – names. She was named Sassy by her original owner, the woman who ran the dog pound in our home town of Stratford, Connecticut. She seemed appropriatedly named because when I first saw this dog at about 10 months, she had plenty of sass. That, and boundless energy.
During my lifetime, my mom owned six boxers. After the fourth one – Brownie I – died tragically after getting a chicken bone caught in her throat when she was just four years old, my mom decided she could never have another dog in the house. The heartbreak of losing them was too painful, she said.
We waited about a year for the heartbreak to ease. Then in December 1982, I determined the house just wasn’t the same without a dog. I decided I was going to get my mom another one and give it to her as a Christmas present. And it had to be a boxer. That’s when I found Sassy.
Sassy’s first owner was getting on in years and she told me taking care of the dog was too much of an effort. You could see why. Sassy was a whirling dervish; bouncing into walls, crashing off doors. For me, it was love at first sight. One look, and I knew I had to have this dog.I bought Sassy for $100, which even in 1982 was probably a bargain. Today, you might pay four or five times that much.
A week later – Christmas Eve – my younger brother and I went down to get Sassy. It was almost as if Sassy knew she was going to a new home and was looking forward to it (she could not have imagined the life of luxury she was about to enter). As we arrived, Sassy came out the front door to greet me. On the first visit, it took all of about five seconds for us to become friends. Sassy was wildly excited;dancing around the lawn, doing the boxer wiggle that seems endemic to all boxers. After about five minutes of trying to catch her, we finally got her corralled and coaxed her into the car.
This dog is going to be perfect, I thought. “Perfect” turned out to be a litle bit too optimistic.
When we got home, Sassy showed us just how excited she was about beginning this new chapter in her life. Picture this scene: five people sitting around a Christmas tree opening presents. Sassy decided she had to be part of the festivities and left her calling card. Afterabout an hour she had her first accident: diarrhea all over the middle of the living room rug. We couldn’t do anything but laugh. In the coming weeks and months, relieving herself in the house was not an issue. She was just nervous on her first day in a new environment. At least that’s how my mom shrugged off the diarrhea incident. My dad kept his thoughts to himself.
My brother and I would have been perfectly happy calling the newest edition to our house by her original name. However, my mom decided Sassy needed a new identity. Henceforth, she was known as Brownie II, meaning she would be following in the footsteps of Brownie I. That was her second name. My mom also added a sort of unofficial nickname – – “Dolly” – because this bundle of fur was her new doll.
After Brownie II/Dolly lost an eye in the car accident, we also called her “Cyclops” after the mythological Greek one-eyed monster. If there was a blessing to come out of the accident it’s that she stopped chasing automobiles. The downside, aside from losing the eye, is that she became less active and started gaining weight. This is when I dubbed her “the beastlie” because, well, she looked like a beast. But a friendly beast.
So there you have it – five names for one dog. Imagine putting all of that on a registration – SassyBrownieIIDollyCyclopsTheBeastlie. No wonder this dog always seemed to exist in a state of confusion, and she wasn’t that bright to begin with.
Occasionally, I would rap my knuckles on the cabinets, pretending somebody was at the kitchen door. “Hello, come in,” I’d shout. Unable to figure out that it was a trick, Brownie II (that’s what I’m going to call from now on because that was her “official” name) would start barking her head off. For some reason, I thought this was real funny.
We could get Brownie II to bare her teeth and growl on command like she was actually angry. To anyone who didn’t know better, it could be a scary sight. This was 60 pounds of pure muscle (before the added pounds went on) and a boxer’s teeth are sharper than you might think. But Brownie II was merely playing. She could never get mad at anything or anyone.
Of course, Brownie II knew how to get her way. She always had that sad look when she wanted something (mostly food). You could never say no to that soulful, pleading look. Certainly, my mom couldn’t. In addition to the table scraps, Brownie II ate hamburgers and steaks cooked to order. After a while, she refused to eat dog food, knowing she could feast on people food.
Brownie’s car accident occured in 1988 when she was struck by our neighbor pulling out of his driveway. That was a tough time for my mom, who in the previous year lost her husband and father. The vet miraculously saved Brownie II following emergency surgery. From what I understood, she had major internal injuries.
After my grandfather passed away, my grandmother, who was in her 80s, came to live with my mom. Together, they helped nurse Brownie II back to health. Every night, the two would gather in the living room to watch Jeopardy and the Wheel of Fortune. Part of the evening ritual included my grandmother giving Brownie II an outmeal cookie.
Hamburgers, steaks and cookies – how could this dog NOT gain weight?
Toward the end of his book, Grogan talked about how difficult it was to make the decision to put his dog to sleep. My mom went through the same thing. She was a doctor, so you might have thought that she’d be able to do it in a clinical fashion. But this was her pet – not one of her patients – and she just couldn’t muster the courage to do it.
I remember Brownie II’s last summer, 1993, as an especially hot one and there were days when she panted incessantly as the temperature reached into the 90s. Brownie II got so lame that it became an effort for her just to lay down. Regrettably, she suffered too much that summer.
Finally, one day in early September, I decided I could not bear to see our dog like this. I told my mom we needed to put her down and she agreed. Together, we went to the vet, who mercifully ended Brownie II’s life five years after saving it. We should have done it three or four months sooner.
Brownie II was a great dog, warts and all. Beautiful in an ugly kind of way.
