Piper should have been named Houdini. The inauspicious beginning occurred 18 months ago at Animal Medical Center in Petal. The runt of the Boston Terrier litter was passed over by many, likely because she disappeared in the curled fur of her bigger siblings. But, she had zest, spit, and fire in her tiny body. Alongside stronger pups, she held her own and showed moxie when aggressive play would have upended others with inferior size.
We took her home, and friends and family wondered if we bought a special toy breed, known in breeder parlance as a teacup. No. She’s just small, so little that no gate can hold her back. She can squeeze through spaces difficult for a mouse to maneuver. We battened down the gate with mesh fencing only for her to figure out climbing like Rocky The Flying Squirrel. More shoring up gave her determination to scale the gate, flatten through a two inch space, and then soar four feet to the ground.
After I had the ugliest fortified barrier in Hattiesburg, she moved on to greater conquests, leaping on top of my garbage can, then my brick wall, and over into the front yard. My poor neighbors began an embarrassing routine of waiting for Piper’s next Herculean feat and calling me at work to pick her up. Each time, she had a quizzical and mischievous look like when Michael Jordan buried his opponent. I resorted to hiding behind shrubs, while she mastered the next gymnastics puzzle. Catching her in the disobedient act was no deterrent, only a challenge. Once a seven feet platform became impossible, even for her, she adapted. She learned to dig, dig, and dig, as much as two feet into the Earth before she barked (laughed) her way into freedom.
All too frequently, my wife and I would find her proudly perched in the strangest places such as on top of my pool table, inside the dryer, or in a four feet tall laundry basket. Her magical abilities grew, and we half expected to hear barking on the roof of our house. She may be part rabbit, part kangaroo, part canine, because her high and lateral jumps are truly something to behold. When she leaped on the roof of my son’s car, I briefly considered taking her on a doggy roadshow. Instead, we got another dog to keep her company, moved all dangerous objects above the height of my six feet head, and basked in the pride of watching a new human visitor gawk, open mouthed, when Houdini did her thing. The main difference between her and Harry is that Piper’s moves actually defy the laws of physics rather than deceive the eye. I have seen joggers on my street do a double take when they notice my baby gazelle dog clear an azalea bush like a whitetail buck. If you watched the 1960s animated cartoon, Underdog, you had a glimpse of my real life ball of dynamite.
She is special and knows it. I guess all great performers, whether Harry or Hound Houdini, know how to play to their audience. But if I were Mr. Houdini, I would pass on a one on one challenge with Hattiesburg’s own Superdog, faster than a chicken, stronger than a plastic water bottle, and able to leap tall bar stools in a single bound.
Clark Hicks is a lawyer who lives in Hattiesburg. His email is clark@hicksattorneys.com.
