I had his mother, Carmen. Dorty was in the last litter Carmen threw. I was glad I kept him; Dorty is my sidekick. He just turned thirteen this May. I am surprised he has made it this far.

Dorty has had quite the life and has come back from the dead more than a couple of times and is no worse for the wear. About four years ago when we were at our cabin in West Virginia – we lived on a private dirt road that nobody ever came down – Dorty was run over by a jeep. And when I say 'run over,' I mean he had tire treads on his body. We knew he was done for. We scraped him up off the road and brought him into the cabin where we laid him in front of the fire. It was late fall and rather chilly. We went out to dig the hole. When we came back in – he was gone! Poof! Where was Dorty? We couldn't find him. He'd gone under the bed. He stayed there for two days. He wouldn't come out. Every time we tried to get him we were met by growls and snarls. We pushed food and water under the bed. He drank some water, but refused the food. On the third day, Dorty came out. He took a big stretch, ran out to do his business, came back in and ate a big bowl of food. He acted like nothing had ever happened. He picked up the nickname Satan since we were all sure, under that bed, that he had sold his soul to the devil to survive.

Another time he tangled with some big hounds and got really torn up. The hounds had ripped a huge hole in him. Again, unwilling to be caught or helped, Dorty took refuge under the bed and would not be coaxed or allowed to be forcibly taken out. Again – two days later – here he comes! I took him to the vet who said that it was too late to really do anything. The hole just closed up and is now no more than an itty-bitty scar. Again, the family was certain Dorty's (Satan's) deal with the devil was sealed.

There have been other instances and skirmishes where I certainly thought he was going to die. Each time he has bounced back more determined than ever to live his life to the fullest. He's a good boy and I love him. I would take him over any person. If I was forced on to a desert island and could choose only one living, breathing being to take with me – who would I take? DORTY!