We are 'Lucky' to know our Rathdrum dog

Lucky was born somewhere around Rathdrum and family legend has it he was begging for an old man's hot dog when the man complained and Animal Control stepped in.

We witnessed the incident's finale, gathered around as a sweet young female Animal Control officer apologetically carried the squirming and friendly Rottweiler-mix puppy off to the shelter and away from the exciting sounds and smells of Rathdrum Days 2000.

He was a sharp-looking dog and was only hungry. We had two Bassett hounds at home but Honey started bothering me right away to go and spring him from the shelter. She persisted for a couple of weeks until I went down there and inquired and found the formerly lively dog quarantined in a back-room cage.

He had developed "kennel cough" and his eyes were running and he huddled in the cage more or less suffering and awaiting death. I paid up and took him home.

We named him Lucky - but he was very sick. We struggled to make him eat and Honey finally concocted what we called "fish balls" and he was able to get those down, also consuming hidden medicine from the vet.

He got better and soon took a special place in our lives. He was our "guard dog who doesn't bite," the best kind. He has been a loyal protector of our home and family for 13 years, employing a deep throaty roar that's enough to send robbers running for their lives. He's ridden cross-country in a car several times and once went to the beach in South Carolina.

He has outlived the Bassett hounds by a couple of years now - getting the chance to be "only dog" in his old age - and spends most of his time on a comfortable bed beside ours.

He never looked exactly like a Rottweiler, having the body and markings but a smallish head. After nursing him back to health we thought about finding a home for him, but one potential new owner complained about the size of his head. He went home with one fellow, but reportedly kept escaping and the fellow brought him back.

Lucky us. He has been a lasting reminder of the good three years we spent in Idaho from 1999 to 2001: our Rathdrum dog, not quite a Rottweiler, born a good dog but turned outlaw by a grumbling stomach, saved from certain death to live a long and happy life of love and comfort. He has never forgotten Idaho, we tell ourselves. Even now, we believe, he remains ever-watchful on our walks for any sign of the brothers he once knew.

Maybe he wonders if we'll ever get back to Canfield Mountain where we once walked for full, happy days. A return is unlikely, considering his limited ability now to get out and around.

But it's going to be a happy ending for Lucky, we know. He'll be here with us, at home.

Brent Andrews, a former reporter for The Coeur d'Alene Press, lives in Franklin, Tenn.