Shania Nia Lexy

Ten years ago, we drove to a remote piece of property near Lyons, Oregon, and met Shania Nia Lexy (M. was in kindergarten and had the honor of naming her).  She was half English Mastiff, half Bull Mastiff, and at four months old, she was already far too big to pick up.  We hadn’t had a dog in two years, but we were finally ready to open our hearts again.

 Shania was beautiful… the last puppy to be chosen from her litter.  I don’t know why other families chose her siblings, but I will be forever grateful that they did.  She was waiting for us, just as we were waiting for her.  She left her mother that day, which made us all sad, but she calmly climbed into our van and laid down on the floor.  From that moment, she completely trusted us—she never showed signs of loneliness or homesickness—and we completely trusted her.

I remember standing at the kitchen window the week after we got her, watching her tearing back and forth behind a row of rhododendrons, branches flying out of her way, tongue hanging out, a smile on her face.  It amazed me how happily she entertained herself….and me….I couldn’t stop watching her.  I also quit pruning the rhododendrons--she managed quite nicely on her own.

She played so hard every day that when she fell asleep in the evenings, we often couldn’t wake her.  Mastiffs grow tremendously fast, which requires a lot of energy—it didn’t take much exercise to wear Shania out.  There were many evenings when D. and I lugged her upstairs, each carrying one side of her bed like a stretcher, while she slumbered peacefully.

About a week after she moved in, I left her in the laundry room, while I ran errands.  When I returned and opened the front door, I faced a large pile of stuffed animals.  The laundry room door was open, and Shania was nowhere to be seen.  I called her, and she flew down the stairs, wild-eyed and shaking.  I immediately sat on the steps, and she threw her large body into my lap.

 

I held her for a long time, thinking about what it must have been like to realize she was completely alone for the first time.  Wondering how long it had taken her to search the kids’ bedrooms and bring stuffed animals downstairs one at a time, building a pile of softness and safety.  I truly understood the depth of her intelligence…she could have destroyed things in fear and panic, but she searched for comfort instead.

That’s not to say that she didn’t like to take things apart, but even then, her behaviors were uniquely hers.  We found that nothing with zippers could be left within her reach during her first two years.  Despite a strong under bite and very large mouth, she could take a zipper apart tooth by tooth, without destroying the attached clothing.  It was truly amazing, albeit a little costly.

Her life-long vice was tearing apart anything made from foam, even when it meant destroying her own bedding.  She would spend hours meticulously tearing her foam pad into little tiny pieces, which I know gave her great joy.  She never outgrew this love, and we learned—albeit a little slowly—that foam pillows, bedding, and pads did not belong in our house.

If you’ve followed my blog, you know that we also have two other mastiffs—Shania’s nieces, Brecken and Sedona.  We’ve collectively called them The Beasts for many years, and we've loved them all deeply, but Shania was different…always more human than canine.

I’m writing this post because we lost Shania on Thursday, August 1, and it’s important that I honor her memory with the permanence of my words.  She woke up wagging her tail, happy to start a new day.  Within a few hours she had a massive heart attack.  We rushed her to the veterinary clinic, but there was nothing they could do…our beautiful beast slipped away, before we could really tell her good-bye. 

 

Our grief has been overwhelming, but I think we all feel a sense of peace today.  We buried Shania’s ashes in our backyard and planted beautiful flowers on her grave.  She is home with us, in the yard she loved, near the rhododendrons she pruned, near the nieces she mothered for 7 ½ years.

She completed us, made us all better people, and every year, watching her flowers bloom, knowing she’s part of them…I will see her beauty, grace, love, patience and joy. 

I love you, Shania…I’m so honored that you were part of my life, that you helped shape my children’s characters, that you gave them unconditional love.  You will live forever in our hearts and in the hearts of everyone who knew you…I love you.

July 4th...pre-date festivities

We had the pleasure of being jerked awake at 1 a.m., by teens sharing July 4th joy—no, I didn’t see them, but I’m pretty comfortable stereotyping this one…

Pre- and post-date fireworks happen every year--we love fireworks too and are tolerant regarding early-bird festivities. Why, this particular group even had the foresight to place their illegal, five-minute, mortar-firing, piercingly-loud device in the middle of our four-way intersection. This insightful act lessened the chance of any one house catching fire—who doesn’t appreciate behavior like that?

Fireworks stands aren’t open yet in Oregon, but stands in neighboring states with lenient laws must be. What is it about fire, noise and bright colors that provides so much fun and excitement? Maybe I don’t even want to know the answer to that question…

I haven’t watched our neighborhood fireworks display for two years, because I’ve been inside…comforting a 130 lb., frightened mastiff. Luckily, the pups aren’t bothered much, but Shania shakes like a leaf and can’t be alone.

Maybe I should get her some recreational drugs this year—I wonder what dogs on the street are using? More importantly, how do I recognize an undercover police dog? To be safe, I’ll take one of the cats along as a distraction. Sometimes, my cleverness even impresses me :)

Mastiff moments...the hungry beasts

The beasts just finished dinner and have gone back to chewing their cow knuckles. We buy and cook them periodically—even domestic dogs worry about salmonella. Shania has been somewhat of a bone lord today—she methodically collected, then “buried” them in various spots, including a duct leading under the house. D. found and redistributed them…Shania’s been a little depressed since then.

Right now, she’s discreetly lying near the pups’ food bowl, doing a little reconnaissance—sometimes they leave a few bites. Shania’s weight fluctuates depending on the pups’ appetites, so we’ve explained that she can’t eat their leftover food.

She listens and appears subservient…I think she only hears “blah, blah, blah, food—good girl” and feels invited to partake of their leftovers. She looks utterly perplexed when we catch her and reiterate, “NO! Blah, blah, blah, food!”

I should explain that when I say pups, I’m talking about Brecken and Sedona—they’re 2 ½ years old. Shania’s the matriarch at five years, even though the “pups” are bigger than she is. She’s status conscious—the pups totally respect that.

I’ve learned a lot about instinctual canine hierarchy watching the three of them. Such as, more than two dogs constitute a pack…not a good scenario. I love our girls, but won’t have more than two at a time in the future.

Hmmm…if you love dogs, mastiffs in particular, this post has fascinated you, otherwise, you’re thinking, “Get a life, Reverie!” My response…this is my life and I’m stickin to it!

For love of mastiffs

Let’s see…Two children are at school, the third is waking up. The Beasts are outside, but not fed. Four cats have been petted, their food bowl uncovered (Neoism). One gecko has water and ate crickets last night. Hmmm…I think I can relax for a minute.

And then my brain kicks in…sigh… Our backyard makes me cringe—I’m still cringing from taking The Beasts out. So many holes to fill, so many beasts to re-dig them… Some holes appear bottomless—I’m expecting tourists to pop up from other countries. This could work in our favor though…possible college money via a lemonade/sandwich stand.

I know I’ve explained The Beasts penchant for buried rocks, which explains the holes, but have I described their play techniques? They each weigh about 130 lbs…small as mastiffs go. They rush at each other, rear like wild horses, crash chests, and shoulder wrestle…over and over. The earth shakes, sod dislodges, rocks fly, muddy ruts develop—it’s actually pretty cool watching them…except for the havoc they wreak.

Unfortunately, it’s a tiny crisis this year. We have three sets of grandparents arriving in June for J’s graduation. We’re human, we like to impress them—The Beasts just like to drool and show off their rock tunnels. The backyard needs to be rototilled and re-sodded, The Beasts need a farm, neither of which will happen in the next month.

I’m cringing again…time to refill my coffee cup and formulate a plan. I’ll go see if any tourists have popped up—if I’m lucky, one will have a degree in horticulture. So much for relaxing… :)

The Beasts

The Beasts are in fine form today, noses to the ground, searching for the inevitable rock. I’ve begged and pleaded with them to chew something up instead, but they’re not listening.

Our yard must sit above a metamorphic hot spot that continually channels rocks to the upper crust. There’s no end to the Beasts’ quest…if this continues, we’ll be piling rocks in the driveway, complete with a “Free” sign. I suppose there’s a CC&R addendum prohibiting visible generosity or, in our case, a desperate desire to unload a few rocks.

Loving Brecken

When I took down the border in my room, I also rearranged the furniture and replaced blinds with curtains. It was truly a momentous day…

Other than struggling to find the bed after getting up at night, I like the new arrangement. My husband loves it--I didn't know he hated the last arrangement. However, last night I discovered a flaw in my creativity. Brecken and Sedona now sleep in a new part of the room, and Brecken’s bed lies across a loose floor board.

I don’t know if the board was already loose, or if Brecken’s habit of turning circles all night long, combined with her impressive weight, did the damage. My daughter is concerned you’ll think Brecken is fat—she’s a mastiff, big is what she does (the dog, not my daughter).

Last night, every time Brecken turned a circle, the board popped. Every time she flopped down, the board popped. Every time she moved at all, the board popped. Her bed will be in a new spot tonight…possibly someone else’s room…

I just made a trip to the kitchen and discovered that I can drink coffee directly as it brews. Kidding, but it did cross my mind. As I poured a cup of much-needed caffeine, I heard my oldest son ask Brecken what was in her mouth.

I may have actually groaned, but possibly just stepped on another loose floor board. I walked into the hall to discover Brecken coming down the stairs, a muffin wrapper and piece of tissue stuck in her lips. Mastiffs have very large, drooping lips, sometimes things are lost in them for days…like rocks, bark, tree branches.

Brecken happily wagged her tail, unaware of the incriminating evidence stuck comically in her lips. She’d been in the Aerie—my sacred space. I’m sure the entire trash can is spread across the room, there may even be important things chewed up. I don’t want to look yet…

I’m going back into the kitchen to finish my coffee, then I think I’ll move Brecken’s bed…to the garage.

Mastiff Moments

Have I mentioned that I live in a zoo? We have three mastiffs, four cats and a leopard gecko. I collectively call our dogs "The Beasts," not due to temperament, but size.

Mastiffs are amazing, by far my favorite breed. They're sweet, gentle, smart and low maintenance...an hour at the dog park...sleep the rest of the day. Slobbering, couch potatoes is a fair description.

Our oldest, Shania, is almost five--she's half English Mastiff, half Bull Mastiff. The others, Breckenridge and Sedona, are two--they're 1/4 English, 1/4 Bull and 1/2 Brazilian Mastiff. They're also Shania's nieces.

There are some unique things about giant dogs that you only discover via trial and error. Well, I guess you could read Mastiffs for Dummies, but trial and error is such an adventure.

Mastiffs have absolutely no clue what items are safe to eat. If they can swallow it, they will. You'd be amazed what comes out the other end sometimes... Or maybe you'd prefer not to know--I myself try never to venture too close when they're doing their business.

Our backyard is also a tribute to the movie Holes. The dogs methodically dig up rocks all over the yard. It seems very symbolic to me--if there's one thing I learned from that movie, it's that you don't mess with karma. The holes aren't big--they're narrow, deep and always lead straight to a rock. Depending on size, the rock is then often swallowed and passed on later.

I quit pruning our backyard after we got Shania. She does an excellent job--she even removed a few plants that didn't appeal to her aesthetically. The pups help with some of the pruning, although they're much better at reworking our deck. It seems to be sculpted to their liking now--they haven't touched it for a few months.

What's most impressive is that they're not outside that much, especially during winter. They're just gifted with the ability to work fast and accurately.

Shania's talent never ceases to amaze me. She has a pronounced under bite--a tribute to her bull father--yet she can gently remove every zipper tooth from coats, pants, etc., without damaging the garments. I couldn't be more proud...or cold.

When my technologically-gifted son gets home today, I'll ask him to post photos. Right now I need to fill in some holes and haul away the tree branches in my backyard...