hannah

Steve Mirer's Page

The Story of Hannah

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Part 1

     One day in early February 1994, two students, John and Rhonda, walked into my classroom at Union Junior-Senior High School in Modoc, Indiana. It was a few minutes before first period was to begin and the kind of smile on each of their faces told me that they wanted to sell me something. This wasn't unusual, of course, since teachers were often the first ones approached for any school fund-raising drive. I just wondered if it was going to be magazines or maybe candy this time.
      "Hey, Mr. Mirer. Would you be interested in a dog?" asked Rhonda.
     I certainly didn't think the Student Council had taken to selling dogs. "A dog?" I questioned.
     John took a step forward. "Yeah-a German Shepherd." Before I could answer, he reached into his flannel shirt and pulled out a tiny brown, black, and tan puppy. He gently held out the somewhat frightened puppy. "Here--take her," he said.
     I smiled and carefully took the puppy from him, just slightly worried that I was going to get peed upon.
     Rhonda smiled. "She's cute, isn't she?"
     I petted the fur-ball in my hand. "Yeah, she is."
     "I knew you'd like her," Rhonda continued. "I've got a whole litter at home if you'd like one."
     I handed the puppy back to John. "How much?"
     "I don't know. Maybe twenty-five dollars, plus you'll have to take her in for some shots," answered Rhonda.
     I had just moved into a new house and had always considered getting a dog to keep me company. "Am I buying this one, or another one?"
     "Well, stop by the house and just pick one out. We're using this one as a sample today."
      I got directions to Rhonda's house in the country and stopped by after school. She took me to a back room where a large German Shepherd lay on the floor, surrounded by her pups. The pups were clumsily running around and chasing each other, most yelping as they scurried around. To be honest, they seemed a bit "wild" to me. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed so quickly. Then I noticed her. In the midst of all the running around, lay a very cute tan and black pup, calmly enjoying the show. I decided that I would take the quiet one. Rhonda gave me some newspapers and I took her to the car and put her on the passenger side floor.
      The thirty-minute drive home was uneventful, with little "Hannah" just as calm as she had been at Rhonda's house. I brought her into the utility room and made her a little bed and put down some sheets of newspaper. I filled up a bowl with some water and then put some puppy chow that Rhonda had given me into another bowl.
      For the next two days Hannah stayed in the utility room, even though the door was open and she was free to come out. So far, having a dog was not much different than not having one. Finally, one afternoon I looked down the hall and saw her teeny form slowly waddle from the utility room to the kitchen.
      As happy as I was to have her emerge from the utility room, it did mean that I now had to be on constant alert to prevent accidents. I was only marginally successful at this at first, but we both got better at it as time went on.
      One of my favorite early memories of Hannah was when she saw snowflakes coming down from the sky for the first time. I let her out onto the deck and she ran around trying to eat as many as she could. I wish that I would have taken a picture!

     To be continued . . .