That was the name I put on his papers, but he was always Nikki to me. I got him as a roly poly pup back in the late 1980s. He was the biggest in the litter. Spouse and I chose Nikki and Lady Nicole, Lady, who was the smallest.
They were pure bred Norwegian Elkhounds, although not show dogs. I could never afford a show dog. Besides, show dogs required a level of work and knowledge I was just not prepared to get. My purpose in having dogs, or cats, is companionship. Like his name sake, Royal Nicholaus of Winona, Nikki was a good companion. Some day I plan to tell you of the original Nikki. He was funny, too.
He was smart, too. And he had a comical personality. Yes, I know there are those who refuse to accept that anything other than a human can have personality, but they're wrong. And if you are one of those, and you think to challenge me on this, think again, Ducky. I will accept challenges on most anything. But animals do have distinctive personalities - whether we like it or not. Those who think otherwise have no clue.
To demonstrate Nikki's personality and intelligence I will relate one of my favorite stories about him. It happened in late summer when Nikki was still a reasonably young dog. We, spouse, myself and a roommate, were renting a house on a large island on Lake Minnetonka, just west of Minneapolis. Few people knew it was an island. We didn't know for a long time, but island it was.
The place we rented had a decrepit old garage filled to the brim with junk of all sorts which no longer fit in the landlord's house. He and his wife lived next door. They had once lived in the house we were renting. We set up the dogs' kennel alongside the garage, using the garage as the east wall. (This is position A on the attached image.) A crab apple tree stood a good number of yards away. The house was just to the north, with space between for three vehicles. There was a concrete patio, put in place for a three-season porch which was never built. The little jut out (B) was a breakfast nook. The dining room took up the corner at C. Just to the south was a tiny grove of sumak, flanked by tall pine trees (D). This was where we had our main bird/squirrel feeding station.
Now, intelligent as Nikki was, he was also stupid about food. He was a glutton. He used to steal Lady's food - until I caught him doing it. Then I kept them separate during feeding. To get food, Nikki was willing to do and put up with anything. I remember trying to make them stay in one place and only come when their name was called. Lady was entirely confused, coming with a smile every time I called Nikki's name, but practically crawling on her belly when I called hers. No amount of petting, cooing, treats or other positive reinforcement could make her understand. Nikki figured it out pretty quick. If it meant food, he would do it. He wasn't adverse to hugs and pets, either. He just preferred food.
Now August is corn-on-the-cob month in Minnesota. I love corn-on-the-cob. So does spouse. Back then, if you drove into the countryside, you could find stands selling it at a dollar per dozen. We would buy two or three dozen ears and rush home. That might be all we had for supper. Hot buttered corn-on-the-cob - with salt.
Well, one Saturday we had corn-on-the-cob for lunch. But our eyes were bigger than our stomachs. Even with roommate to help we weren't able to eat all we made. We weren't keen on reheating it. That never seems to turn out well. So we broke the leftovers in half and set them out on the ground at our bird/squirrel station for the wild animals to eat.
Now Nikki knew there were certain places he was not allowed to be, just as there was a certain place for potty and a certain place to sleep. One of those forbidden places was the bird/squirrel feeding station. (There had been a time when I allowed the dogs to chase the squirrels away from the bird feeders, but an unfortunate incident put an end to that.) Even Lady had no trouble understanding this. And this is where Nikki's intelligence comes into play.
I was in the dining room that afternoon (I kept my computer in there) and chanced to look out the window toward the dog kennel. I saw Nikki's tail disappearing into the dog house. I thought it odd, because the kennel was open and the dogs were free to lounge in the yard, which was where they preferred to lounge. But it was hot and I guessed that perhaps it was cooler in the dog house. I rethought my guess when, just a few minutes later, I saw Nikki's tail disappear into the dog house again. Now that was really odd. I quit what I was doing and watched the dog house.
Nikki came out in just a minute or two. He looked around. He actually looked furtive! I moved away from the window, trusting on the sun's afternoon glare to hide me (just in case he thought to look through the window). Apparently satisifed, Nikki made a mad dash from point A to point B. He was so close to the house I couldn't see him. Then I saw him through the south window - at the bird/squirrel feeding station. Point D. He picked up a cob of corn, turned, raced to point C, hugged the house to point B, and than raced into the kennel where he disappeared into the dog house at point A.
I started laughing and spouse and roommate came to investigate. I told them to watch. Sure enough, Nikki came out and repeated his food reconnoiter. Roommate thought it was funny. Spouse was going to chastise Nikki, but I said to leave him be. Such thinking deserved its reward. The birds and squirrels would have to make due with other food today.
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