Someone recently asked for more stories about Eliott and Esteban, how we got them and their funny personalities. So, Connie Kangas, these stories are for you.
December of 2008 saw Josh and I moving our things on a brisk, cold night into an elegant farmhouse with eleven acers of land complete with a large, sturdy barn and down the hill a ways, a fishing pond. The coyotes were howling that night as we unloaded the last of our things into the basement via the cellar door. Josh wrapped his arm around me as we stood by the truck in the quiet dark, the bright stars shining down, and the white gleam of the snow stretching as far as we could see, even in the dark. Our breath made cloudy puffs as we talked.
"It will be so hard to leave Esteban in that barn." I told him. Esteban, was my one year old hound/german shepherd mix and my pride and joy(and quite spoiled for a dog). We were moving from my tiny appartment to this spacious land outside the city limits to house-sit for six months. My new husbands' professor was scheduled to go on sabbatical to New Zealand with his family. His house and farm dog, a gorgeous Great Pyraneese named Gabby, needed watching.
Gabby, we were told by her owners, was used to being outside, protecting her land and living in the barn at night. As a result of her constant time outdoors, Gabby had grown an impressive, thick winter coat. A winter coat my pampered Esteban had not had an opportunity to grow, spending most of his time in the luxury of a warm appartment. Josh gave me a squeeze and assured me that Esteban would adapt. "Esteban will be just fine," Josh tried to reassure me, "He will grow a winter coat in no time, just you see. Besides, the barn will be warm enough."
We officially "moved in" the day after Christmas during a snow-storm. We led an excited Esteban out to the barn. The barn was spacious and well-lit. There was a pile of straw and a heat lamp in one corner to keep Esteban and Gabby comfortable during the cold days and nights. There was a ladder which led to the loft, where many bales of hay were stacked, along with summer hoses stowed for the winter. There was some large farm machinery (for mowing and such) in another corner of the barn. Next to the front door of the barn was an impressive tool bench and all sorts of tools neatly organized. Next to these were two large sealed trashcans full of dogfood. We were told several weeks ago of the importance of placing the lids on snugly after feedings, because although mice were inevitable, it did help keep the rats away. The sliding side door of the barn opened to a large penned in area Dr. Beck had prepared just for Esteban so he would not get lost and run away in his new surroundings. We kept that sliding door open a crack so Esteban could go out to relieve himself or play, whenever he needed to.
Gabby, the old farmdog, kept her distance from Esteban. Although she tolerated him, she did not seem too happy about this new animal on her farm. We played outside in the snow with Esteban. Gabby, a professional guard-dog, had no use for such silly games and refused to play fetch, frisbee, or ball. She maintained her distance, watching somewhat disdainfully. After a while, we were ready to go inside and warm up. We closed Esteban in his pen in the barn, turned the lights off, and shut the barn door.
That's when Esteban began to cry. He yipped and yelped and whined. He paced (frantically). I imagine he was scared and lonely. He had never been separated from me overnight. In fact, after his crate-training was completed, he had taken to curling up at the foot of my bed....and much like the fabled "Camel in the tent," would creep from the foot to the top of the bed. It had become a point of contention between Esteban and my new husband. There were times Josh wanted to snuggle with me but found himself snuggling a large, hairy, snoring Esteban who had moved himself from the foot of the bed to the middle of the bed. Esteban would be ordered to get down, or given a rude kick or shove, by my dear husband on nights like these.
I can not describe how conflicted, sad and torn I felt leaving my crying puppy out on a cold night. It did not get any easier when the coyotes took up their mournful cry. But, the Beck family had requested we leave Esteban outside except for extreme weather situation (such as negative temperatures). Farms and dogs, when mixed, tend to produce the type of dirtiness you don't want in a house (which I was soon to discover).
It got easier for Esteban. Over the next few weeks the crying grew less frequent. His fur began to thicken too. But one bitter cold night, we decided to let him in for ONE night. Gabby could not be pursuaded, but her coat was infinitly thicker than Esteban's coat. I will never forget this night. We took him into the cozy warm house and right away gave him his first bath in weeks. We dried him off. He curled up on the couch and put his heavy head in my lap while I sipped tea and we all watched a movie. Then, he followed us upstairs to bed.
He dutifully layed down on his old pillow I had brought up for the occasion. Then we all settled in for the night. It was pitch black, except for the slanted light from the moon coming in through the window, when the creak woke me up. I lay very still listening. I could hear Josh's heavy breathing, signifying deep sleep. I raised my head slightly and saw him. Esteban had put a stealthy paw on Josh's side of the bed. Esteban's whole body froze when Josh snorted and stirred and his big doggy head was turned watching Josh intently. I had to stiffle a laugh. Then, surprisingly lightly for a 70 pound dog, he completed the leap onto the foot of the bed and crawled around to my side, as FAR from Josh as he could get, and curled up at my feet and rested his head on my legs, with an enormous sigh of contentment. I patted him on his head and before sleep crept up on me again, I had to marvel at the sneakiness of this dog and the lengths he went to to be with his favorite person.
Esteban as a young puppy napping on my lap.
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