Hannibal's Story

I realize that the "Gateway" to this site may have been a bit overdone, so I will now be a bit thoughtful about Hannibal and his impact on our lives. We have had Hannibal as a companion since early 1991, when he was three months old. He came from an abandoned litter and was adopted in Racine, WI from the Hope Safehouse. Megan found him when she drove through Racine and passed a marquee reading "Puppies, Puppies, Puppies!" He was part of a litter of similar white shepherd-huskie-lab-wolf puppies that ran around the shelter, chasing a 14 month old German shepherd male who was dragging a rope. It really felt like Hannibal picked us out, but he evidently had second thoughts because when we drove him home, he howled all the way. He lived with me, first in a community house that I was renting a room in, and then with me and Michael, my new roommate when we moved to the near west side of Milwaukee.

Hannibal cost me a lot of money in those days. He was hard to house train and he tended to chew on everything in site. One day I came home to find him extremely wired. He ran around and around the yard until he wore himself out. It just so happened that I had invited some people over the previous evening, and had left a bowl full of M&M's out. Beyond some hypertension and a bad bout with the bowels, Hannibal turned out fine.

It was during this time that Hannibal began showing his best traits. He loved people, and people responded to him. If people came over, he was usually the center of attention, and I took second fiddle. Being an introvert, I usually didn't mind. He was also quite an attention getter on the street, in both good and bad ways. I could count on being able to talk to pretty girls, but they would all coo over him. However, we did have a scary moment in Washington Park in Milwaukee. While I was walking him there, a couple of young kids, maybe about 10 or 11, passed by. One of them said "give me your dog." I laughed and said I wasn't going to give him away. As we walked away, I heard one kid say to the other "shoot him." I just kept walking with my heart beating fast, until we turned a corner.

This ability to relate with people, sometimes better than with other dogs, was the most amazing thing about Hannibal. He was literally my, and after I married Megan, our ambassador to the world. He made us look really good. In Milwaukee, he charmed a woman who had been deathly afraid of dogs. In San Antonio, he befriended our two young friends downstairs to the point where they would ask "where's Hannibal," or "how's Hannibal," before addressing us. When we moved to New Orleans, Hannibal immediately made friends with an elderly crossing guard while we lived at our first house. When we moved into our second just off Bayou St. John, walks along the bayou and morning get-togethers at a small park with neighbors and their dogs helped us make friends outside of work and school. To put it in brief, Hannibal gave us cachet! He helped us meet people we never would have met had he not been with us.

Another thing about Hannibal that I've always admired has been his readiness to do anything at any time. How many times I've just wanted to go out and do something, or go somewhere, but couldn't because I had other, important things to do. But whenever we've asked Hannibal to do something, whether it has been to take a walk or move halfway across the country, Hannibal has always been ready to go with no questions asked...no whining about too many commitments. He's lived in 4 states, circumnavigated Lake Michigan in a Geo Prism, camped and climbed mountains. At 13, he camped in Telluride on a night so cold that he was shivering in the morning. But he would do it all again in a heartbeat if he could.

This is not to say that Hannibal is perfect. You've already heard that he chewed things when he was young. Once as a young dog he got into rat poison, and cost me much money and worry at the emergency vet. He enjoys eating cat droppings. He can be absolutely snippy with younger or smaller dogs, especially when he is on the leash. He is an inveterate beggar, which Megan blames on me, and usually finds a "pigeon" that he can con with his big brown sad looking eyes. The drill is always the same. First he stares at his target with those eyes. If that doesn't work, he'll try a paw on the leg. If they still don't budge, he brings in the big guns, which involves putting his head into the target's lap. That usually rakes in the reward.

Unfortunately, Hannibal is now 14. The desire to do what he did ten, five, even one year ago is still there, but the body is not as interested. He walks slowly because his back legs are bad. If he stands in one place too long, he begins to sink on those back legs. His bladder control and bowel control aren't what they used to be, and he has had to wear a diaper like contraption with maxi-pads in the house to guard against accidents. In January 2005, we thought he was dying. Stays at the Animal Emergency Hospital and X-rays had the vets convinced that he had an abdominal mass and was on his way out. But Hannibal, as he has done all his life, showed that he could still fool us all with his determination. He was suffering all right, but from an attack of kidney stones. At his age, pain like that can be debilitating, and it has been difficult for him to come back. He shows his age. But Hannibal still has the determination to get up each morning. He goes on three walks, albeit very slowly, each day. He still begs for food. In other words, he is still living, and maintaining an interest in the world.

He is our friend and companion, and we are truly blessed to have him with us as long as he is willing.

Michael Hess
7/31/05

So here’s Sam and Sascha assuming the position on any given afternoon. (No, you sick freaks, not that one.) Plant the ass in the carefully worn dent in the couch. Crack open the Gucci-B beer du jour and commence to channel flip. Hmm, something’s not right, something’s missing. Where’s our puppy?

The bang of the back screen door, always left open thank you very much. The bump and squeak of the old kitchen door followed by the scratching of paws on the hardwood. Like a junkie hearing the flame cooking smack. Our hellos were always in true guy fashion-three nods, three grunts, and easy on the chit-chat. Mr. Puppy’d hit the carpet and God help you if you were in his spot. He’d sit and watch tv with us like one of the family, hell, he was family. Sascha and I’d argue over who brought the last round, who had to go get the next one, was Ginger hotter than Mary Ann, could Mr. Firley kick the s*** out of Mr. Roper. Hannibal just shook his head and smiled abuelita style, oh you boys.

Weekends were much the same, only for longer periods of time. There’d be the occasional seat switch, potty break, or tummy scratching sesssion (one of us tickling Hannibal, you sick bastards), but for the most part, it was just the same old lazy, happy times. Eventually we’d get hungry and order pizza or some such. Hannibal always left Sascha alone cuz even he knew eating warm tomato sauce with mushrooms and bell peppers on half burned pizza dough just wasn’t right, Mr. Lactose-intolerant-vegetarian. It was all good, though. After a six pack of German beer Sam couldn’t sit up straight, let alone eat right, so Hannibal’d just pick up the pieces as they came raining down. Boys will be boys.

And so it went for weeks and weeks. The three of us, beer, and the tv. Just like kids, hey call and see if Hannibal can come down. We’d hang out and play until the phone would ring. That’s your cue Hannibal, time to go home. A see-you-later nod and off he went until the next day. Sometimes there’d be an outsider in the room when we’d hear the back door and the paws.

“Holy s***, a dog just came in. Uh-oh, he’s looking at me funny. Are you gonna shoo him out?”

“A, that’s not ‘a dog’, that’s Hannibal. B, he’s looking at you funny because you’re in his spot. C, I’ll shoo your ass out with a bat before Hannibal goes. Now get out of his spot and bring us another round.”

"I’m sorry Hannibal, I..." A quick head shake and paw wave. Not now, Jeopardy’s in the final round. What is Tanzania you fool!! By the next commercial break, the newcomer’d be scratching Hannibal’s tummy and making all kinds of googoo noises to him, going on and on about what a good dog he was. Addictive as crack that puppy is.

One night Mike came in right behind Mr. Puppy, but the result was still the same, three nods, three grunts and a drop to the carpet. Hannibal had that apologetic look to him, sorry dudes, he just followed me down here. Mike busted into some current events nonsense or how trees needed to be saved and poor Hannibal just rolled his eyes. I remember being amazed at how such a white dog had mastered the trademark ‘Oy Vey!’ woeful look. Shortly thereafter, I couldn’t decide which was worse, the fact that I had an empty beer or the fact that Mike was now discussing the socioeconomic theories of lint and how it related to socially responsible investing. Hannibal caught me staring at him and motioned to my beer. But, Hannibal, you don’t like domestics? More eye rolling. Oy, Vey ,another one!! He motioned again to my beer, and then to Mike. Hannibal, this is beer number 8, work with me. Again he motioned to my beer. Then to Mike. Then to Sascha’s soon to be empty beer and added the yellow-pages-fingers-do-the-walking thing with his paws. Man, I thought the Oy Vey look was something. You want me to offer Mike a beer? A puppy nod. I still wasn’t sure where Hannibal was going with this, but I had faith.

“Hey, Mike, you want a beer?”

“Sure, I’ll take one.” Mike got up and started toward the kitchen. “Y’all need one while I’m up?”

Hannibal looked over at me with the biggest s*** eating grin I have ever seen. Jesus H, Hannibal, that was the coolest f***ing thing I have ever seen. Another puppy nod and the head went back to the carpet. See? It’s all good! I was still completely dumbfounded when Mike handed me another beer. Never before had I seen a dog who had mastered human tricks. But then again, this wasn’t just any dog. This was Hannibal. Heater burned tail and skunk sprayed face aside, this was the homeboy who had my visiting parents eating out of his paw. Weeks after their visits, I’d call to talk or ask about something and yeah yeah yeah whatever Sam, how’s Hannibal doing? Sigh. He’s right here, hold on. Hannibal it’s for you. The head shake. The paw wave. Sorry Mom and Dad, he’s watching Jeopardy again. What is Aramaic. LATIN!?! Oy Vey you’re stupid!!

God bless you Hannibal.

Sam Rodriguez is an engineer living in San Antonio, Texas. He and Sascha Kemper were Megan and Mike's downstairs neighbors in the Alamo City. Contrary to what is said in the story, Hannibal consumed no beer in the making of this story...as far as we know, he has been a teetotaler all his life. However, everything else is probably true and factual.