The tale of Caspian

     I thought I would tell a little story about a dog named Caspian.  Really, Prince Caspian, but if you had know him, you would realize that title was a bit formal for him.  I just called him Caspian--though, it was my brothers, I believe, who christened him Pee Dog.  But, I am getting ahead of myself.  When I was about ten years old, all I wanted for my birthday was a dog. Specifically, a dachschund (affectionately know as a weiner dog). My mom had thrilled me with stories of her dog when she was growing up, CeCe (she had a much longer name that I can phonetically pronounce, but could not even begin to spell...well, maybe I could begin the spelling--I mean, I know it starts with an M, but after that, I'm at a loss).  And CeCe was a dachshund.  My mom even has a picture of herself dressed up for halloween one year as Little Bo Peep, her hair in long brown curls and her little girl-self holding a shepherd's staff--and who do you think is dressed up in cotton balls as her lost little sheep?  Yep, Cece.  Anyway, I really wanted a little dachshund to dress up. And take outside.  And sleep with in my bed.  So, my birthday rolled around and I stubbornly would not ask for anything else.  I knew my pop was a hard sell and didn't want to get me a dog, but if I wasn't gonna get a dog for my birthday, then I wasn't gonna get anything.  So be it.  However, since I've already told you the name of the dog, then you probably can figure out that my pop relented.  I was summoned one morning to speak with him, and was told the happy news that they had located a dachshund dealer--or er, breeder--and mom was going to take me very soon to pick out a puppy.  Happy birthday, indeed! 

         So, I picked out Caspian.  He was originally called Cowboy, but it didn't take long for me to change that.  He had white fur with brown spots and lots of freckles on his pink belly.  He had very snaggly teeth and an underbite, making it so that he never would have won a dog show, but I didn't care.  I loved him.  He had the softest, silkiest red-brown ears you'll ever find.  They were so silky, in fact, that my dear friend Erin always said that she wanted to make them into a fur bra for herself.  This was not because she was into animal cruelty, it was just because she was into very soft things.  Caspian would sit at my feet, just near the pedals when I played the piano.  He slept in my bed at night, creating a wonderfully warm little spot at my feet where he curled up in sleep.  He licked my tears when I cried.  He loved me desperately and was content to just be with me.  

       However, Caspian was not perfect.  Considering his nickname of Pee Dog, I am sure you can imagine one of his struggles.  He was very bad at holding his pee.  He would get excited, or scared, or maybe just breathe, and would suddenly start to pee.  In the house, on my parent's carpet.  He would also poop in the house a good deal.  This was because he was very small and the outdoors was very big and he hated going out there.  It might also have been because I was not the best at walking him...Nah--couldn't be. It was probably just that he was scared of outside...One time, my pop excitedly found me and I detected a hint of pride in his voice as he told me that Caspian was, at that moment, wrestling a snake in our garden.  I was so happy because my pop had never been proud of Caspian before.  We tip-toed up to the conquering hero, and couldn't help but notice that the snake was just a sock.  Caspian had wrestled a sock to the ground. Whoop-de-doo.  So, maybe he wasn't ever gonna be Caspian-the-Snake-Wrestler, but I loved him anyway.   

       Then there was Caspian's love-life.  He was fixed, but that didn't seem to quell his desire for a girlfriend.  In fact, there was one stuffed animal that he particularly liked.  It was my Pink Raccoon.  She was striped and had a little baby raccoon that was sewn permanently into her arms. So, maybe it was nice of Caspian to be interested in a single mother--maybe he helped out with her baby and was a father-figure to him.  But, what he mostly did with her is unmentionable in this blog.  And it really grossed me out.  I would often try to hide the Pink Raccoon high up on a shelf.  But Caspian would know she was there and would bark repeatedly.  It got so bad that he would loose his voice and this horrible, raspy sound would come from him--raw with desire for the Pink Raccoon.  Anyway, I would finally relent and would go into the room quickly, get her down, and shut the door behind me...It made me feel like a pimp.  But despite even that, I loved Caspian.

       However, I got older and eventually went to school in Philadelphia.  I didn't really have the time to take care of Caspian, and my parents didn't enjoy his...habits in the house.  So, arrangements were made for him to temporarily stay with Neil (one of the pastors in my church) and his family.  He left and I started to get reports back that Caspian was having a wonderful time.  Neil's wife, Katy, is a clown and had incorporated Caspian into her act.  He was riding around on a wagon, dressed up and paraded before many adoring fans--and apparently his stage name was Pork N Beans (this most definitely did NOT make me happy--but what could I do?).  Caspian had hit stardom, and who was I to hold him back? He was happy, taken care of--with people a lot--whereas, I couldn't give him that much time and attention. And I certainly wasn't able to make him famous! So, his move became permanent--with the understanding that Neil would give me reports on how my dog was doing (and that he would never call him Pork N Beans around me).  

       After a few months, the reports stopped coming and I was so busy, I forgot to ask for them.  Finally, after another few months, I found myself driving in the car with my mom.  Caspian popped into my mind and I asked my mom if she had heard how he was doing.  Well, my mom is terrible at lying and her face does this tightening thing that is unnatural when she even tries to.  When I saw her face do that, I knew something was up.  My family also has a horrible habit of laughing at bad news...My mom then burst into a torrent of laughter--and was crying a little , too. Simultaneously.  She only got three words out, but they were enough: He's dead, honey.

      Neil had accidentally run Caspian over with his car.  He had been dead for a few months and everybody had kept it from me, thinking that I would just never ask about him again...Not the best plan, I gotta say.  Neil felt terrible, and I know he took very good care of Caspian up until that point--the point when he ran Caspian over with his car.  Since then, I have forgiven him, though. Really.

      So, that is the tale of Caspian, may he rest in peace.