I always wanted a German Shorthaired Pointer (GSP), ever since I was a kid and met one through a family friend. For Christmas 2019, my daughter Erika and wife Helen thought that they would arrange for the adoption of a GSP as a surprise gift. Helen thought it better to get my approval prior to dropping a full-grown GSP on my lap. I originally balked at the idea, but eventually warmed up to it. Our thirteen-year-old Aussie mix was in poor health, and I thought that two dogs would be more than a hand full. However, the thought of owning a GSP trumped all reservations.
We were approved for adoption and signed the paperwork, and were all set to sport our lederhosen and pick up our new pet. The dog’s foster parent lived in South Florida, and agreed to meet Erika and her boyfriend Ben half way. When Erika and Ben picked up the dog and sent a photo, my first reaction was (in the words of Scooby Doo) ruh roh! This dog looked more like a hound dog than a GSP, and Elvis started ringing in my ears. When we received the paperwork, I noted that a previous visit to the vet had resulted in an identification as a Bluetick Coonhound. I wrote to the adoption agency, and they assured me that Daisy Mae was a GSP, and that this breed was often misidentified due to the coloring. I crossed my fingers and convinced myself that we owned a GSP.
It should be noted that Daisy Mae was her original name, and I was going to change it. This name sounded like that of a Coonhound (or at least a cast member from The Dukes of Hazard), and I wanted to own a GSP. Daisy was about the sweetest dog imaginable, but she did have several “character flaws.” First, when it was feeding time, she drooled as if we turned on a faucet. She took roughly 30 seconds to wolf down an entire bowl of food, so I had to purchase a special bowl to slow her down. Second, she wasn’t exactly house broken. On her first day with us, I noticed her head to an area rug and promptly pee all over it. She did this numerous times during her short stay with us. As she was five years old, she should have been house broken, but all bets are off when a dog is adopted. Too many unknowns from her past. Her third major “flaw” was quickly discovered when she spotted other dogs. The ear-piercing baying could wake the dead. She did this on one of our pre-sunrise walks, and I thought that the HOA would soon be knocking on our door. I was again convinced that Daisy was a hound dog.
I decided to purchase a Wisdom Panel DNA test, and I promptly swabbed her cheeks and sent off the kit. The results came back as I feared: 75% Bluetick Coonhound, 12.5% Harrier (another breed of hound), and 12.5% “other hounds.” So much for adopting from a certified GSP rescue agency.
After a short time with us, Daisy started getting sick quite often (from both ends). I can’t accurately describe the situation, as I’d have to rate this post as R-rated or worse, but suffice it to say that it wasn’t pretty. A trip to the vet revealed that Daisy had worms, and since our dog had never had them and Daisy hadn’t been in contact with other dogs since the adoption, we realized that they were a package deal. Great! Unfortunately, Daisy’s health didn’t improve and after a couple of additional trips to the vet, we were told the bad news. Daisy had an inoperable malignant tumor at the base of her abdomen and small intestine, which caused a severe blockage. The poor hound had to be put down.
We hope that Daisy was happy for at least some of her time with us. She really was a good girl.