"A superior dog, one that had speed, scent and brains" - George Washington

It was nearly 17 years ago when I walked into my volunteer job with Mt. Vernon’s livestock program and fell in love. I fell in love with a black and brown ball of energy who had white socks on her paws. As of this moment, she and I have been partners longer then “Lonnie” and I have even known each other! Today, that little ball of beagle-Doberman (beagelman, deagle?) was released back to the stars.

Chewbacca Magilicuty McCarthy-Ihme, lovingly known as Chewy, The Chew, Chew-Monster (or “pain in the ass dog” depending on the day!), was a fixture in my life since her birth at George Washington’s estate almost 17 years ago. Her mother was Suzy, a work dog in the estate’s orchard, who despite the invisible fence, escaped and had an assumed night of ecstasy resulting in a litter of 7. Only 2 puppies were left that Saturday I came to volunteer and it was an easy choice between them. My puppy went home with me that day, curled up in my lap as I drove my MINI Cooper down GW Parkway, happy as could be with this adorable fur baby.         

Names for this hyper puppy ranged from Leia (but she didn’t really look like one), Carrot, Pumpkin, to No Don’t Pee There…Ugh. It was after she ground her teeth on multiple chairs that Chewy was her designator which fulfilled the need for a Star Wars name and also honored her personality. Everyone who met Chewy thought she was a pretty dog, but man was she hyper (perhaps a small reflection of her adoptive mother).  She loved trying to play with Sweet Pea, my friend Katie’s cat, and also loved eating her cat food and her poop. That was an interesting problem to solve, keeping Chewy out of the litter box while ensuring Sweet Pea could get into it! Luckily she didn’t continue to chew on the furniture, but she was a trained killer of stuffed animals, a champion food scrounger, chaser of squirrels, and remained a fan of  cat poop until her final days.

Chewy was also nearly impossible to house train. She was a quiet puppy and she would stand by the door and we would miss it, so accidents happened. I finally put a set of bells on the door, and voila, she rang the bell to go out!  She was a smart little thing, sometimes too smart!  Chewy was also an escape artist just like her mother. Fences, doors, gates…nothing could contain the Chew-monster. To this day, I am grateful that I had a microchip put in her when she was little, because that dog would dig her way out of any backyard, especially if she was not let inside in a timely fashion. There were at least 3 instances I can recall of Fairfax Country animal control calling me to tell me they had Chewy, when I didn’t even realize she had escaped!

Chewy would also escape when she was feeling put out. When I returned home after 5 months in Iraq, Chewy was apparently upset that I had been away for so long, leaving her in the company of “Lonnie” and Oliver (her step-brother dog). She escaped that afternoon and we were frantic. She gone overnight and we had printed “missing” posters. It was the next day when our neighbor, who owned a biker bar up the street, asked if she was our dog. Apparently, Chewy went to the local biker bar and spent the night there. Little shit!  And when we moved to Wichita, she escaped and wandered the neighborhood until she decided to cross 4 lanes of traffic and waltzed right through the doors of the nearby hospital emergency room! They sure got a kick out of that. We had collars made with her name and our phone number on it, and believe me we received a lot of calls. One great way to meet the neighbors.

      

My mom remembered the time when I was deployed to Germany, and she watched Chewy for 3 months. When she brought her home, her dog Penny hid behind the couch for 3 days! She kept running away from my parents house, and would sprint around the yard as fast as she could with my brother chasing her. When I returned months later to get Chewy, she jumped into my MINI and wouldn't get out at all! She missed me that much.  

Anyone who met Chewy, I believe, loved her. Even though she was a famous jumper and would occasionally whack people in the nether regions with her nose as a greeting (sorry Luke), she was extremely sweet. She loved having her butt scratched, ripping her toys apart, and using her super sniffer skills on our walks. You could tell Chew-monster was happy on a walk when her gait changed to an unusual side by side pattern. Her nose could find her anything, and even after her hearing failed, and her eyes started to fail, her nose never quit.  Heck, she didn’t even starting calming down until she was 10 years old!  As she aged, her greetings were less exuberant, she would wag her tail, sniff you, then promptly turn tail and walk away so as to properly ignore you.

I was one of those parents who made her pet wear sweaters and Halloween costumes. Chewy suffered through Santa hats and bunny ears, but she did love walking around Old Town Alexandria in her monster costume and getting treats! Once the kids came around, she put up with aggressive loving from them. She and Oliver got along eventually, even though during their very first meeting he took a chomp out of her, resulting in a vet visit and some stitches but they became squirrel hunting buddies. They were both present at our wedding, where Oliver managed to cut his paw!

She loved hiking the Appalachian Trail (OMG ticks!!) or camping in Colorado. She enjoyed going to Mt. Vernon with me to play with her dog-mom and harass the horses.  Chewy was even our mascot at field training in Maryland when I was cadre. She slept in the camp with us and rode around in the Humvee. At the end of the month-long exercise, we were discharging all the unexploded dummy bombs, and someone threw one and Chewy decided, after all that time, to play fetch. About 20 people screamed at once “CHEWY NO!!” and she stopped just in time as the bomb exploded about 10 feet from her. She jumped about 3 feet and ran so fast back into the Humvee and wouldn’t come out until we were done!  We also knew she would never be a hunting dog after our first dove hunting foray saw her quivering under the back seat of the car at the first shotgun   blast.

Chewy was my friend, my confidant, and my reason for living during some of the toughest years of my life. She shed all the time and was a huge pain, she would only poop on the carpet instead of the tile floor, she would eat the most disgusting things and vomit them up in the middle of the night, but when she would give kisses or curl up next to me at night, all that went away. I have been a very lucky person to have had the companionship of this wonderful dog for a large part of my adult life, and the void left by her passing will not be soon filled. I miss her greatly.