Cleo was born on December 9, 1981 when I was 11 years old. She was the biggest and healthiest looking of a litter of six pups (5 females, 1 male). Six pups that never actually should have existed. Their mother, Hexie (German for "witch," because her wirehair coat made her hair stick out in all directions) had gone through numerous false pregnancies. Because of it, we never bothered to get her spayed (spaying wasn't as big of a deal back then as it is now). But, that year, 1981, she had a surprise for us. She was about 8 or 9 years old (I really can't remember for sure anymore).

I knew something was different with Hexie this time. She was heavier, panted alot, slept more. My parents thought it was just another false pregnancy. I made a bet w/ my mom that if I was right, I would get to keep one of the puppies. I guess mom was so sure that she was right that she agreed. Sure enough, 2 days later, on a cold December morning, Hexie had her litter.

The puppies were adorable (of course, as puppies are). The poor male was constantly picked on by his female siblings, but he hung in there. My original plan was to keep the runt for myself, because the runt is always the last one picked and sometimes never picked at all. But, as the weeks went by and the pups got older, I started becoming attached to the most unique one of the bunch. Unique in size (she was bigger than the others), unique in coloring (she had a mixture of colors, while her siblings were more of a solid color). I also loved her protective nature of the runt, and how she would always make sure that one got a place when feeding, and also the cute way she would lay on her back when sucking milk from her mother. She was the prettiest of the bunch, and despite my original vow to keep the runt, I chose her.

Her given name wasn't Cleo. For awhile, Dad had taken to calling her Fatso. I didn't like that at all, of course. So, one day, while holding her (I can't remember if her eyes were even open by this point), a strange word popped into my head. Laquio. Don't ask me what it means. I've been told it sounds French and I've been told is sounds Spanish. It's probably neither. Either way, that was her name now. I figured this name would keep dad from giving her a nickname, but I was mistaken. He started calling her Cleo soon after. I didn't object to that tho and from there on out, Laquio was forever known as Cleo. Naturally if she had been a purebred wirehair dachshund, her official AKC registered name would have been something like "Carin's Laquio" (or something, I dunno) and her "call" name would have been "Cleo." But, I digress. Cleo was officially mine (or should I say I was officially hers?).

I never had many friends growing up, so Cleo became my best friend. She was the one I told my troubles to, the one I spent the most time w/. But, I have a confession to make. For all her loyalty, love and devotion, I treated her terribly. I had a temper, and when I lost it, I took it out on her. She should have grown to hate me for it, but she never did. On a visit home from college one time in the very early 90's, something in me changed. Perhaps it was how her body shook after she had gotten sick in my bed--afraid that I would lash out at her. That fear...the fear I had instilled in her was a wake up call. I took her in my arms after that and swore I would never hit her like that again. I would never mistreat her or any of my pets like that ever again. From that moment on, I showed her every ounce of love, devotion and loyalty that I had. There are many things in my past I wish I could go back and change, but if I was given a choice of only one thing, this would have been it--I would have never taken my anger out on her. She never would have known fear or pain, but only love, affection and loyalty. It also changed my outlook on life. People became less important to me, and animals more so. I became anti-animal cruelty and I cry whenever an animal is hurt or killed (in real life or fiction). And I've sworn that should I ever become wealthy, I will establish a foundation to help animals, whether it be to fight puppy mills, to find homes for lost animals, adopting whales or what have you. This is my pledge to Cleo.