About fifty years ago we were out of dogs. Our precious Kater was gone, as were several others after her. She was a full sized short­ haired dachshund. A friend at work had a small long-haired dachshund with a new litter of puppies. Kater had short black hair. These puppies had long wavy red hair. The mother was beautiful but mean. My friend distracted her long enough for me to grab the runt of the litter. It has been said they make the best pets but that's not always true. Certainly not in this case.

That beautiful pup was born hateful. She took after her mother. It has been said that if a young man wants to know what his true love will look like in forty years, just look at her mother. Another cliche that is not always true.

We named her Maggie. That soon deteriorated into Maggot, a name more suited to her personality. She would scratch you and/or bite you growling before, after and during her display of meanness.

As an example, Maggot hated the mailman. He came every afternoon about four o'clock. She never actually met the mail man. The nearest she ever got to him was when he walked up our driveway to the mailbox on our front porch. She heard him coming. She could hear him place our mail in the mailbox by the front door. Maggot would be a snarling, growling foul-minded, vicious mess as she saw him approach our house while she was standing on the arm of the sofa at the front picture window. Her dance of hate never changed. How did she know that no mail was delivered on Sunday. Somehow, she did.

Our granddaughter Mandy was in kindergarten. We often baby­ sit her after school. Mandy would ride the school bus to our house. Maggot hated Mandy almost as much as she hated the mailman. As I have said Maggot hated everybody. She only tolerated me. Probably because I fed her. We hoped she would grow out of her meanness, but that was not to be. She bit Mandy on two different occasions. Elizabeth would roll Maggot over and kiss her tummy. You could see the fury on Maggot's face. We knew what was coming next. Mandy and Elizabeth never gave up trying to be a friend to Maggot. Shutting "her meanness" in the basement was the only solution.

That dog was definitely warped. She had a habit I had never seen before in a dog. She sucked a tit. Not just any tit. She would look for a piece of fabric. Anything would do, but bath towels were her favorite. Maggot would drag a bath towel off the rack then drag it out onto the living room rug, laying down on the floor with it. She would bunch up the center with her paws until she had enough to suck on. There she would be, content, sucking on her towel tit for hours. Even I knew better than to take it away from her.

Maggie was brought to mind during a talk with my granddaughter up in Grand Rapids, Michigan. I told her we were into cats these days, not dogs. Cats catch mice, dogs don't. That was when Mandy mentioned "Miss Meanness."

"She hated you," I reminded Mandy. "I hated her, too" responded Mandy. I know we are not supposed to hate, but could we make an exception with Maggie/Maggot?

The other day I found 22 definitions of "meanness" in my synonym finder. They could all apply to Maggot.