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Our rottweiler puppy, Hanuman, was a gamble from the day we bought him home. His rambunctious behavior was cute because he was so small and chubby and extremely cuddly.
But, as he grew, his behavior got out of control, he destroyed everything, and when he wanted your attention, he'd bark at you three times, and then he'd nip at you. The only positive thing is that he was good about letting you know when he had to go outside to make a deposit. In fact, he was kind of a prude about it. He didn't want you to watch while he did number one or number two. He'd literally stare at you until you left him alone. But, to his credit, he was very gentle with our grandchildren, especially the smaller ones. He'd let them climb all over him and pull on him, and his only reprisal was to gently lick their hands or their face. His favorite was our little five-year-old named Kamanuhulumakua or Manu. He was especially watchful of her. Hanuman was a hefty size by the time Manu was fourteen years old. She had her friends and her social circles of admirers that Hanuman would growl at if he felt that one of them smelled a bit off. He was always correct. It always turned out that, that particular kid had ulterior motives or was simply there to take up space. One night, I awoke to the sound of Hanuman growling and barking at something from Manu's room. A second later, Manu herself was screaming for help. We all rushed in there a found Hanuman wildly barking and growling at something in the far left corner of Manu's room. I have to say, I was frightened because I've never seen Hanuman like that before, hackles raised on his back and ready to tear apart whatever it was that was in front of him. That's when I saw it, an eight-foot-tall shadow backed up in the corner of our daughter's room. It was trying to escape, but it had nowhere to go; Hanuman had it dead to rights. It kept flying from one corner of Manu's room by climbing on the ceiling and going to another corner, but Hanuman wouldn't let it go any further than that. It was clearly scared of our rottweiler, whatever it was. Our family dog had, had enough and he charged it. My first thought was that the shadow would dissipate, and Hanuman would crashing hard up against the wall, but he actually grabbed it by the leg and, with one wild turn of his head, tossed it to the floor and tore it to bits. Only then did the pieces of whatever it was, fade into nothing. Hanuman went over to Manu, rubbed his head up against her leg, and then lay at her feet when it was all over. We all knelt beside him and gave him hugs and kisses, more so did Manu because he literally saved her life. Manu found out a few days after that one of her admirers in her social circle had actually ingratiated himself into her company so he could leave a cursed hex-bag in her room. Even now, I can't understand that kind of mindless, pointless jealousy, but as it turned out, Hanuman would be the one to find it. We burned it right after. Its sender became deathly ill and almost died. You see, I named our rottweiler Hanuman not just because it's the Hindu monkey god or because he was a close companion of Rama and Sita, but more so because of the one shinning attribute that the god Hanuman was known for, his incredibly staunch loyalty and devotion. Our Hanuman embodied those qualities and more.
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