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 decking...talk
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 away...my 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 him...it 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 name.....like Mom had said...the right
name would present itself....and it certainly did!
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