While Bane is leonine and noble, OTOH, Miles was vermiform and morally depraved. Her voice rang like a church organ. She could hit 30 notes simultaneously. When I first got her, I thought she should have been named Judy, after the little girl with the great big voice.
(She doesn’t begin to sing until 2:16, but you should watch her previous; while she doesn’t hit the high notes here you can fell the power of her voice.) But Miles, the trumpeter, works as well.
..X raised my dogs magnificently. She taught them not to walk on the wrong side of a pole. When she, as a 20 year old aspiring actress, realized she could not afford dogs in New York City at the same time that I realized that I needed to purchase a security system, we negotiated over the terms for the tradeoff. One of the terms (which I did not understand, but agreed to nonetheless) was that if I were to give up one of the dogs, the dog I would give up would be Bane rather than Miles.
Miles was not house-trained – and I believe not house-trainable. She has utterly destroyed my carpeting. When I would return to the house from a time away and Miles would wax jubilant, yipping and licking, it meant that I needed to search for piles and puddles. My security deposit is shot. (..X can also be crafty.)
Miles also suffered from short dog syndrome. She bullied both Bane and me despite her diminutiveness.
As I have a king-sized bed, the dogs slept by me. Miles slept with her body rubbing mine regardless of if I wished for the proximity. She would growl if Bane would approach or if I would try to move her to a more comfortable position,
Dogs in my household must preclean the dishes prior to the dishwasher. Less than half the mass of Bane, Miles (with her short dog syndrome) always claimed first spot. Bane, at better than twice the poundage, always deferred. Miles’ tongue was short and soft and lacked the industrial Ajax strength which Bane brings to baked-on food. But Bane always was on the second shift.
Miles set the alert with her great baying barks. She stood ever-vigilant against the mailman’s nefarious plots to invade our household. She never failed to alert me about the dangers posed by young mothers with baby carriages on our front sidewalk. Squirrels never set foot in our backyard, and the cats in the garden walked a long ways away from us.
Alas, Bane has made friends with the mailman. Squirrels promiscuously waltz through the back yard. Even the cats now come within 15 feet of my yard.
I had taught my dogs not to stray from the backyard, but I made the mistake of leaving for a half hour with the door open and found Miles on my front steps (walking around a half dozen townhouses). She now knew she could leave. I tied her up for five days while Bane was allowed to roam free, but it did not work. The first day I let her off-leash, I sat working intensely in the backyard or playing on Bloggie and did not notice when she left.
Here is the poster I placed on the trees and lampposts of Sunnyside and Woodside:
GOES BY MILES
Half basset & half beagle, smallish
Gentle and friendly
Several people called to tell me (not all of whom found English a friendly language) she was run over by a schoolbus. She had good car sense, but schoolbuses do not behave like cars.
One gorgeous young blonde lady with red eyes came by and gave me the collar which reeked of death. I remain grateful to this lady because the collar meant that I could explain things to Bane. We held a little funeral in the backyard where Bane and I buried the collar.
For such a vermiform and morally-depraved creature, Miles was mourned deeply by an enormous number of people. The one Christian doctrine which I question the most is the idea that dogs lack souls. Miles clearly had one, although I am not clear that it would have sent her heavenward.
Perhaps I should get Bane a puppy.
So for a happier ending in memory of Miles -- Miles/Judy.