Vizsladogs, Ltd.

How Hector got his name.....or the worst thing about your first vizsla puppy 

by Jane Shong Toadvin

The day Hector first came to us Mom was being very mysterious and hush hush all morning. Dad left for work and Mom had this silly grin on her face and kept hinting of something wonderful that was about to happen. Early in the afternoon she finally collected up us kids and loaded us into the car and DROVE the 2 blocks to the train deck (we lived in such a small town we didn't even get a station...just a small area of about a whistle stop town). We knew something big was up as there would be no reason to drive that short distance...heck, we'd all run it many times before. Soon the train pulled in and one of the freight cars was opened and a small wooden crate was unloaded. There, peeking out from between the slats was a tiny red puppy, pink red rubber nose twitching, and wagging tail beating a tattoo on the wood rails. I remember sticking my face down real close to look better and got my face licked by the longest fastest pink tongue I ever seen. It was, of course, a little vizsla puppy.... just 6 weeks old (they used to go home younger than they do now). Puppy and crate were loaded into the car and taken home...I'm sure Mom was half-deaf by the time she had driven the 2 blocks as us kids were really going wild and the pup was yapping loudly "Let me out! Let me out!" As soon as we were home Mom opened the crate and it seemed as if we all got a face full of vizsla at once. That little guy leaped from one to another of us handing out kisses so fast all you could see was a red blur. Then, once everyone was thoroughly kissed and weak from laughing, he took off to explore the yard...also at 100 miles per hour just lickety split around the house, into every bush and shrub and finally ended up just running in circles barking! Mom looked a little taken back at this maniacal display but us kids were recovered from the laughter fits and took off running with the puppy. Poor Mother gave up and went into the house and let us play. I think we all ran out of steam at the same time because when Dad got home he found us all asleep in the soft pine straw under the big pine tree, myself, my 2 brothers, and a little red puppy. Only the puppy woke up when he approached and laid across my chest and barked at him. "Stay kids!" the tiny red terror barked in his fiercest soprano voice. The combination of the puppy barking and my dad laughing must have woke me up because I remember Dad headed into the house laughing hysterically. Leaving my brothers napping, the pup and I followed him into the house just in time to hear Dad interrogating Mother about "just what that was and where had it come from?" Mom pulled a rather tattered magazine ad out of her cookbook and gave it to was one of Doc Osbourne's ads introducing the NEW RED GOLD HUNTER. "It's your new bird dog." she said grinning from ear to ear. The pup attacked Dads bootlaces growling ferociously..."HArumph!" Dad said and headed for the living room half dragging the still attacking puppy with him. Mom grabbed me and did a "shushhhh." We went outside to wake the boys up and when we came back in she had us all tiptoe to the living room door and peek in....there was Dad in his big old comfy recliner chair...feet up, watching the evening TV (pretty much the only time of day there was TV..that and Saturday morning) with the puppy curled up in his lap sleeping. Mom smiled and seemed kinda misty. The fight about what to name the puppy didn't really get under way until supper. I don't remember all the different names that were suggested that night but it was certain no one could agree on any of them. After a lot of everyone yelling Mom said "ENOUGH" and announced that the right name for the puppy would present itself in due time. Mom was a very smart lady but little did she suspect what was to happen the next day. The next morning we had to attend the wedding of one of my cousins. Mom only let us play with the puppy for a little while as we were all lobbying our name choices by each of us calling him different things. She said we'd have the poor little guy so confused he'd never know what to come to if we kept it up. Besides, we had to get cleaned up, dressed up, and as Dad said, TUNED UP to be on our best behavior for awhile. Being June, the wedding schedules were pretty booked so Diana had her ceremony set for 11am and the reception wouldn't happen until 7pm elsewhere (us kids weren't invited to that part). Anyway, cleaned and polished off, we went to the wedding leaving the vizsla puppy HOME ALONE. No one was quite prepared for what we found when we returned. There was rice all over the kitchen floor along with the shredded remains of what appeared to have been a book. Toilet paper was dragged out of the bathroom and halfway up the stairs. The arm of Dad’s recliner was chewed as was the corner of the coffee table and a couple chair legs. Lots of little needle teeth marks in anything the little buzzsaw could find. Neither Mom nor Dad were thrilled about the disaster but they didn't seem too upset either.....but then Mom found the remains of her alligator handbag. (We don't even want to talk about it.) As our parents didn't like to use profanity around us even under duress there was a lot of, "well this is a heck of a thing." going on. Finally Dad said he hadn't seen a mess like that "since Hector was a pup." That was it...Hector had his Mom had said...the right name would present itself....and it certainly did!

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