A Serendipitous Puppy

Thursday, February 07, 2019

Everybody who hears her name wonders how she got it. My fault, for deciding to name my tiny eight-week-old puppy after Yellowstone Park’s arguably most famous alpha wolf. That wolf wore a radio collar and had an official number, but her birth date, June 2006, triggered a casual moniker. Park Rangers called her “O-Six”.

I wasn’t looking for a puppy, but a friend’s dog had produced an unexpected litter of unwanted puppies. She said the dad had been a working Border Collie and the mom a collie-mix. I already had two male dogs, but when I met the litter only one female remained. As she chased and tried to bully one of the boy pups, I figured she’d become a tough dog, decided to adopt, and knew exactly what to name her.

That cute puppy grew into a medium-sized adult with her mom’s beautiful sable coat and expressive eyes. To see her is to love her, to know her is a shake of the head, for she’s a kook, and not by a country mile. She’s nothing like her namesake, and usually, I apologize mentally to that O-Six while explaining my Osix’s odd name to a questioner.

My Osix, a barker, sounds-off for long stretches, is problematic, and also, the most alert of my dogs, often first to hear anything worth barking at. Nobody approaches my house without a lengthy announcement. Osix is super friendly, loves everybody, and she’s a devoted companion–unless she hears a gunshot. At a first loud crack, Osix disappears, sometimes hiding too well and too long. Once, while riding with my dogs in the mountains, upon hearing gunshots, Osix disappeared. I herded the other dogs forward looking for her, calling and calling, but to no avail. We turned back to the trailhead, with me hoping Osix would fall in, but we arrived without her. I saddled my spare horse, whistled for hound-dog Ranger, and started again up the mountain. After covering a couple of miles, I saw way up ahead that a dog had joined Ranger. After that, and to this day while we’re in the wilds, Osix wears a coat of shame, a bright-chartreuse, highly visible jacket.

The original, amazing O-Six had been the offspring of wolves transported from Canada to Yellowstone in the 1990s, during the Park’s wolf rehabilitation program. As she matured, O-Six became noticeable for her bravery, attractiveness to followers, and leadership skills. Over time, she produced several litters, was observed to be a good mother and teacher. And she was tough, watchers occasionally saw her down an elk all by herself. She and her pack were visible, tended to ignore watchers, and not known ever to bother domestic livestock. One day, when O-Six was (ironically) six years old, she and one of her half-mature male pups ventured just beyond Yellowstone’s border. A hunter-in-waiting shot them both dead. Along with O-Six’s many devoted followers, I felt heartsick. That happened as I was adopting my new puppy.

A name can seem magical. To me, it’s so with “O-Six” and “Osix”. Addressing my dog by her name revives my images of the fabulous wolf that once roamed Yellowstone. That wolf’s moniker, now belonging to a quirky, sometimes goofy, 30-pound Collie-mix, is a non-confusing reminder. My Osix is charming with unique charisma and I love her. That O-Six was unique and majestic and I miss her.

Dear Readers, wishing you a lovely day. Diana