One Character of a Dog
One Character of a Dog
By Elana Van Arnam
Northfield Middle School, Grade 7
When we moved to Vermont ten years ago from Columbus, Ohio, we made many changes. It was quite a transition, moving from a very busy city where a mall and movie theater were only a walk away, to a quiet, rural town with a population of 5,500. We have a family of four, but decided we needed something more to complete the family. So we got a dog. A golden retriever puppy was what we settled on. When we arrived home from church one Sunday we had an ambitious and rambunctious puppy with us. We decided to name the golden ball of fluff Amos, after my father’s grandfather.
Amos quickly adapted to life with the Van Arnams. He was a very small puppy, and for the first month or so we had him, he wore a kitty collar, as the dog collars slipped right off of his neck. Despite his small size, Amos had a huge personality. He was determined that, regardless of his size, he was the alpha male in the family. My extremely patient mother spent numerous hours training him. He soon learned to piddle outside and that the plastic train track pieces and Lincoln logs were not to be chewed.
We are blessed to live on about six acres of land, which Amos absolutely loved to explore. He discovered many different animals that inhabit the forests around our house. His favorite was the chipmunk. One afternoon, Amos, after many failed attempts of catching one of the scattering critters, had finally snuck up on an unlucky chipmunk in the middle of the yard. The chipmunk was in trouble, and he sure knew it. With no tree to scamper up close by, the quick-witted creature darted and dashed all over the yard in haste, running for its life. Amos was very close to capturing him when the chipmunk cleverly pulled a quick 180 and dashed through Amos’ legs. Amos continued to jerk his head this way and that, searching for the animal, but it was too late. The small rodent had gotten away. Our perplexed puppy didn’t realize what had happened, but after a few seconds he happily trotted away, quickly forgetting anything that had taken place just moments ago.
My grandma owns a camp in the Adirondacks. It sits on a small lake and is an old, rustic style camp. When we went up to celebrate the Fourth of July with my dad’s family, you know Amos just had to come along. Surprisingly enough, Amos shares his birthday with our country, and that year he was turning five. It is part of the tradition on the Fourth of July up at camp to have fireworks. So when we heard the first “booms” and “bangs” coming from neighboring camps across the lake, we rushed down to the dock to enjoy the beautiful scene. Amos came down with us; he would never miss out on an opportunity to spend time with people. We had previously noticed his small fear of loud noises during the thunderstorms we had back in Vermont. Little did we know this fear wasn’t exactly “small.”
After the first few fireworks lit up the Adirondack sky, we really became aware of Amos’ fear. He left the dock and headed back up to the camp, which was our first sign something was wrong. I soon became cold and tired of the constant biting provided by the ever-so-famous mosquitoes. So my discomfort outweighed my pleasure of watching the fireworks and I also headed up to camp. That is where I first noticed Amos’ pacing and cowering. I brought him inside, but that didn’t change his behavior. I started to get worried but ignored my gut feeling of foreboding. The rest of the family came up from the dock after about fifteen minutes, but the fireworks kept on booming from across the lake. I expressed my feelings to them, but they, like me, brushed away any thought of what Amos’ behavior might lead to.
As the evening wound down, we let Amos out to do his pre-bed business. When he didn’t come back in after a few minutes and many calls of his name, we knew he was gone. We searched for a half an hour, but everyone was tired and full of grandma’s delicious dinner and s’mores. Exhaustion came over the whole camp like a huge tidal wave. We decided our time would be much more useful in the morning, so we headed off to bed worried and apprehensive of what could happen to our beloved dog.
The next day was a disaster. My parents went into town and put up posters. My brother and I were stuck at camp worrying about what could possibly have happened to our smiling and perky pup. In stressful situations, we always think of the worst. Did he drown, get hit by a car, or was he simply lost in the thousands of acres of forest that spread far and wide around the camp? Hours passed, but it seemed like days. Late in the afternoon, when my grandma, brother, and I were outside, a gentleman came up to us and said he heard that we were missing a young golden retriever. The three of us instantly became hopeful and curious. The golden retriever the man had told us about was following him with the look of a young boy who had just been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar on his face. Sure enough, it was Amos. The man told us that he first met Amos when the fireworks were still going strong. Our predictions were confirmed when he said that Amos was frightened because of the fireworks. The man was from a Boy Scout camp and they found Amos under their dock in the morning. We graciously thanked him and headed back into camp. We were so happy to have Amos back! We petted him and gave him food and water, which he happily accepted. My parents were still gone so we called them on my dad’s cell phone and told them the good news. They hurried home and we met them with open arms. Everyone was relieved and happy that Amos was home safe again.
Even at the age of seven, Amos loved chasing small animals. He had tried many times to catch the neighbor’s cats, but he always failed, leaving them with quite a fright. The only “cat” he managed to catch in his mouth was black with a white stripe down its back. The “cat” sprayed his neck and Amos instantly dropped it. It was our neighbor who found Amos covered with skunk spray. We were not happy about it, but Amos didn’t mind it. In fact, I think he liked the extra attention and being covered with cornstarch. However, we didn’t let our smelly puppy into the house. We moved the two cars out of the garage, and Amos in. It was summer, so he wasn’t cold, but we knew he was lonely. After a few weeks of soaking and scrubbing, Amos started to smell more like a dog and less like a skunk. We allowed him back into the house, and he was sure darn glad to be back. I believe he learned his lesson. In the following years he continued to chase cats, but he seemed to resist the ones that were black with a white stripe down the back.
In the year 2008, Amos is still with us. He is in great condition and is very healthy. He runs with my father every morning and still loves chasing animals. Unfortunately, he is also still afraid of loud noises. So for his tenth birthday, we will not celebrate with fireworks. And if there are fireworks in the range of Amos’ hearing, we will keep him inside. We still bring him to soccer games and many different events downtown. People often mistake our dog for a puppy; even the vet praises his health. Amos still has the same fun-loving personality he had when he was a puppy, however, he has lost a little bit of his perk over the years. But whenever he hears his name, you know our golden retriever will come running, ears flapping and tail wagging.