Photos by Jonathan P. Geer  

Liebe (lee-bah), German for love,
and that she was.

When I went to the shelter to pick out a pup, there she was, grinning from ear-to-ear, wagging her tail, and just begging to be taken home.  Home at that time was a
2-bedroom apartment off campus from The Ohio State University where I was a senior majoring in English.  I did not give Liebe her name, rather, it was suggested by a friend who had taken me to the shelter to find a pup ... but, oh, how that name fit!

From day one she followed me everywhere; and when I'd peddle my bike back from class I'd see her standing on the linoleum kitchen table, watching out the window for me.  How this short-legged pooch managed to jump up on a table with no chairs about, I will never know! But she once pulled this stunt to devour an entire bag of trick-or-treat Snickers, leaving not a drop of chocolate anywhere, just Snicker bar wrappers.  She was also know for shelling peanuts.

When Russ and I were first married, he insisted that Liebe sleep in the utility room.  I eventually talked him into letting her sleep next to the bed and, yep, you guessed it, she was eventually up in the bed where she'd cuddle next to my stomach (I'm a side-sleeper).  On cold nights she would snuggle close, I'd move over, Russ would move over, Liebe would move over and, by the end of the night, she had half the bed.  Of course, Russ griped, but I'd just laugh, telling him to get out and go around to the other side and get back in.  "Geez," he said, "if anyone had told me 5 years ago I'd be sharing my bed with a dog, I'd have told them they were crazy!"  Ah, people do change, don't they.

Leibe was also quite the "hugger."   I could ask her for a hug and she would place one paw on either side of my neck and push the side of her face against mine. When I'd say, "ah, that's a nice hug, can you hug me tighter?" she'd push her face harder against mine.  See what I mean, she was a love!

She was also quite the athlete.  Despite her short legs, this girl could run and turn on a dime.  When we'd go for walks she'd always run 20 yards ahead of me, but always turn around to make sure I was coming.  So, when she wasn't looking, I'd turn around and run the other way. To which she would respond by running at breakneck speed to catch me, and surpass me . . . then I'd turn and run the other way to start the game again.  She could also leap up into my arms and let me carry her about like a little kid ... butt on my arm, and one paw on either side of my neck.

Woodchips, must mention woodchips.  We probably owe our neighbors a bag of them.  When Liebe wanted to play fetch, she'd run next door and grab a woodchip out of their flowerbed, come back to our porch and toss it in one of our laps.  We'd throw it, she'd find it, return it and bark impatiently for us to throw it again. While in search mode, her tail would swing back-and-forth, parallel to the ground . . . and when she'd find it, the tail would go straight up. And when she couldn't find it, one of us would go over and get another woodchip from the neighbors . . . but NO, Liebe couldn't play with that woodchip, she had to find the one we first started playing with! 

I could go on and on about this little girl who even the rabbits didn't fear, but I won't. Suffice it to say, she was my heart dog.