You know how when you really like and love someone and know them really well you come up with silly & sweet pet names for them? Sometimes I think the love of my life is a sweet, precious dog: "The Specialist," Vaillecita/o, Violetta, Love, Sweetness, Sweet Judy Blue Eyes, Sunshine, Sunshine Puppy, Puccini, "the face," the Phantom, die Hundin gern, Cutiecia, Veezer (the Weezer), Piggasus, Pigasaurus, Ms.Thang, Best Dog Ever, Vyer, Vido, Snuffleluffagus, V, the V-A-I, Bourgee, Locacita bonita, knucklehead, the Vizor, etc. She stuck by me like Mary's Little Lamb throughout college and real world and graduate school, six boyfriends, one husband and a step-son. Vai was a silly dog, but she was so human-like she really was a genius, very affectionate and a good groomer, although sometimes she could get a little anxious and would full on attack Akitas and Pitt Bulls and other larger dogs. She often seemed as though she was Marilyn Monroe reincarnated as a dog... the bitch was sexy, that's all there was to it. Like all dogs, she loved snow, strangers, pumpkin pie, ice cream, baby carrots, blueberries... bacon. She hated the beach, short walks, people who walked heavy, especially wearing boots, being picked up, and not getting to go.Vai's favorite walks were up Animas Mountain, along the Animas river, La Plata Canyon and going up to campus in Durango. In Seattle, she didn't even like the mist at first and rarely would go for a walk or outside, ha, but near the end of our time there she would go on walks up and down and around the block on 75th NE where we lived, and she loved to chase the geese around Lake Washington near the Sound Garden, and she went to Jimi Hendrix's grave. In Boulder, her favorite walks were Boulder Creek, "The Loop" which is what we called the extent of our neighborhood's side streets which were all loopy because of green space to slow traffic, and of course, "The Ring of Fire," which connected the three parks in our neighborhood at the north end of town. She also loved walking to the campus there, and going to class with me. I would ask if my students had allergies to dogs and if not she would come chill out with everyone during classes, she believed humans existed for her to love. .Her best tricks were: "the paw," vying, jumping into a VW bus, psychically causing people to drop food during preparation of a meal, saying "I love you," getting noticed, and of course, faking limps at the beach and running away from the water at all time unless there were pelicans.
Vai saved me when I picked her out in March of 1992 from La Plata County Humane Society. I remember the day I picked her out and how her little brain trembled beneath her knuckle head, and her butt shook when I walked past her cage, and the little scar on her nose that looked like she had given herself from sticking her nose through the chain link fence at the humane society for far too long. The attendant saw me looking at her and told me that she was the sweetest dog, age uncertain, and that her time was up on that day--4 hours more and she'd be euthanized. When I showed an interest in her, the shelter worker offered her for below cost-- I remember thinking how can they eliminate such a pretty little dog with beautiful blue eyes; and she wasn't blind, or deaf. Then the lady said, " If you'll take her I'll give her to you for $20-- she's spayed and you'll still get a free vet visit." Of course I couldn't refuse! Because I was a college student, I had to sign a statement that I would be responsible for this dog and not just leave it in town when I graduated, which apparently happened quite often. I took that document very seriously. They put a little red rope leash on her, and she bounded with that silly gait of her's, leapt right up into the seat of my bus, and then kept trying to make me wreck the whole way home from sticking her head under my hand whenever I tried to shift-- and kept doing that beggy-paw at the sky-- then she did that moaning- growling-beggin' thing she used to do with the trembly-brain and said "Raii Roeoorrvvf Roo." When we got back to the glorious basement apartment I shared with another student, she liked it and ran inside and jumped on the back of the couch like a cat. My roommate KF and I named her--during the drive home I thought I would name her Suite Judy Blue Eyes after a Crosby Stills Nash and Young song, but then I thought that was a better nickname-- we started with Violet (for her blue eyes), then Viola from "Twelfth Night", Violetta from "La Traviata", but when we played Steve Vai's "Passion and Warfare" the dog freaked out when the lady on the CD began screaming "That sounds like noise Mr. Vai". I'd always heard that dogs respond best to a one-syllable name, and then I remembered "D'yer Maker" from Houses of the Holy, and how Robert Plant says, "Vi" at the end, and of course the punning verb "vie" went with her begging... so KF and I decided that was the name . Vai enjoyed the multiple allusions in her name as much as I did, I'm certain. (ie, A language, Vai, is spoken by approximately 105000 people in Liberia and Sierra Leone, the Vai people; also Sanskrit for wind; Yiddish for woe, etc.). 
As is the case with everyone's beloved dog, she was the ULTIMATE dog-- so unique and sweet, feisty and adventurous. She was more well-traveled than most humans she knew, and everywhere she went people always stopped and asked what kind of dog she was, noting her striking ice blue eyes: Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, Nevada, Arizona, Oregon, Washington, Wyoming, Idaho, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas; she even went to National Parks, like below at Bryce Canyon NP, (and Goblin Valley State Park, Capital Reef NP, Zion NP, Rocky Mountain NP, Mesa Verde NP, Canyonlands NP, Yellowstone NP, Glacier NP, Hot Springs NP, not to mention every state beach between Florence, OR and Walla Walla, WA) but was very bummed about the leash. Vai loved riding on the fold up couch in the back of the campmobile. In Silverton, a jeep tour driver from Louisiana was impressed by her and said she was a Louisiana Leopard Catahoula," trained at one time to hunt cougars in the swamps. Jeez! Although this would explain her propensity for attacking dogs that were obviously tougher than her, she wasn't. Once at a Circle K in Dolores, Colorado, a man having coffee saw her sitting in the bus and was just certain she was a puppy from his recently passed dog (a catahoula). He even had what he believed were her puppy pictures in his car glove-box, which we looked at but couldn't really tell. But he was positive... "there was only one my Sadie had with blue eyes and all that white."
Many of my friends in college would come to my house to see Vai, and if they were going for a hike up Animas (my basement cave was essentially in the base of the mountain), they would stop in & ask to take her along. She loved Bobby, Alex, Pat & Turtle. People sometimes were afraid of her-- thinking she was a pit bull! But a breeder of huskies told me she looked like a beagle/husky mix, common in Alaska; however, everyone had an opinion. She liked to herd, but also to pull and drag. She always took the perimeter of a region before walking straight through. She also received labels of Healer, Aussie, Terrier, etc., from various admirers. Wow! Neither Vai, nor I knew what she really was. Just for fun, we often told inquirers that she was a special breed: The American Dog. (I call myself a Euromutt.)
It pains me to hear about people that don't treat their dogs with humanity. Maybe I'm a nut-job but I sacrificed a lot to keep Vai in my life when many times as a starving college student and graduate student and employed person, I felt like she deserved a better home-- someone who could afford her annual exams and dental cleanings. I felt that attached to this beast. I wanted her to have a better life. But every time I almost gave her up I would decide she would rather be with me and I would rather have her too. In Durango, Portland, Seattle and Boulder, it was impossible to find affordable housing that was decent and clean and functional if you had a dog--no talk of deposits just NO DOGS. So I lived in cheap basement apartments with oddly contrived plumbing, no closets, and lots of spiders the whole time I was single, but Vai had her walks and her couch and her expensive, hippie sled-dog food, which was all I could get her to eat at the time. Although I will say that we finally found a place to rent in Seattle because of her. I had called on a place that had been empty for quite a while and the woman said no dogs, I asked if they would consider meeting my dog? She said no. About two hours later she called me back and said my husband and I have been talking and we have dogs and we will meet your dog. Vai was so sweet and cute and good for them they let us have the house, and even repaired the fence for her.
I have many more stories, especially travel adventures about my special buddy, I'll probably tell more some day... but I've teared up just now thinking about our bond.
Vai was on chemo meds when she passed away from bladder cancer (and possibly skin cancer that spread to her blood, etc.; Vai had endured quite a few surgeries having many cancerous legions repeatedly removed from her nose and belly before we realized it was also internal) that spread to her brain on November 14, 2005. Although her age, was uncertain when she joined my life, she was my primary and steadfast companion for 14 years. Even when she was sick, enduring her final days and had to be carried down the stairs in our house, she wanted to take long slow walk, 4 + times per day! Some jerk in the neighborhood verbally accosted me once when I was out with her telling me I was a freak about my dog, I shouldn't walk her so much, but I loved time with Vai. I miss her often... I have her photo on the wall above my computer... Best Dog Ever.OK, so she never had to do this, but she would have: SUPER DOG!
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