This is a picture of Dali. He passed last October. He was an Ibizan Hound.

Now I know most people here would not be able to appreciate his conformation, and with the angle, I won't talk about that in this picture.

Instead, I will talk about this dog, because the few people who knew of him, didn't *really* know, nor understood what he meant to me.

I got him in '08, he was about 8 months old, his birthday was January 1st. The breeder who had him had imported 2 Ibizans from Spain, and the father was apparently poisoned by the neighbor before blood tests were finished, and papers could not be gotten. So she gave the litter away to approved homes.

I remember going up to north Florida after begging my grandfather for days. Ibizans are hard to come by, and impossible to come by for nothing. On the way back, he threw up chicken feed in the car. He apparently decided not getting fed one night before(because he was prone to carsickness) was unacceptable and ate chicken feed. It was an interesting car ride, with our stops being my first experiences in what it was going to be like having an Ibizan. 'Is that greyhound/whippet/basenji?', I was already correcting people and telling them about the breed. I was 14, and had only been studying dogs for a year officially.

Dali came to us with a flop ear, with taping, massaging, and time, the ear came up, though there was always a slight crease that you could see.

I expected a dog that wasn't protective, I was wrong. It blew me out of the water the day my brother barged into my room, and Dali woke, jumped up, and started barking for him to get out. I knew I had something special on my hands. Protective isn't the same as aggressive, and he was balanced, with all the training classes we went through(obedience, show, agility-which we gave up on the last because he was a hound and liked to run), I could bring him out of his protective mode just by adjusting his collar. And he loved baby animals. Also adored kids, which I was very 'eeeeh' about, but took the chance to educate them about dogs and dog bite prevention. Back to the baby animals....

He not only raised most of our cats, but found a a few of them as well. I remember one night, we were walking and hearing a kitten cry. I told him to find the kitty, and we tried, walking back and forth across the street. Finally standing by the light pole, I mewed and it echoed, right below us. The was a plastic bag. I said no...certainly not. Ripping open the bag, there was an entire litter, newborns....only one survivor. Without a second thought, I stuffed the little guy in my jacket and went straight home. Called around and found a rescue who would take him. Dali whined, constantly, worried over the kitten.

This dog would give me near heart attacks. If he got out, he could easily be gone, and I chased him every time, watching him nearly get hit by cars, crying at times. Trying to herd him into an open yard to make it easier.

Despite that he was a hound and this was what he did, he worked with me. I could use only vocal commands, or only signals and body language. We caught black racer snakes together, he even chomped air at my brother to keep him back from interfering.

And we would argue. Have you ever had a dog talk back to you clearly? I have, Dali did. One day we were going to go to the dog park, but mom wasn't feeling well. So, plans changed, and he came in, energy clear as day, and started barking why weren't we going? Before I continue, I'm hardly the type of person who sits here and anthropomorphize real animals on a daily basis, and I don't condone others doing so either, probably because it's usually wrong, but this time....this was one of those times that would blow you out of the water if you saw it. None the less, I told him what was going on, and I swore he started spouting 'you promised', and this went back and forth, him getting angry, then upset, then depressed, and then giving up. And in the angry area, I swore he called me a bitch, as did my mom. We looked at each other after he sulked off, stunned at what just happened.

This dog, was tough. And at the dog park he proved it, when he collided in midair with an American Pit Bull Terrier....and it was the pittie that landed flat on it's back hard enough to make the ground shake half way across the park.

Dali and I, we chased many people from our neighborhood who stole. I remember the first day I decided he had earned a spiked collar(seems silly on a breed like this, but it worked for him). A boy had come to our door, wanting to know if we wanted the lawn mowed again, his friend with the mower standing in the street. The first time they had, several things went missing, and so my grandparents wanted nothing to do with them, so I said no, and closed the door. Mom said to check out the window, and the boy had gone to speak with his friend, and then went back into our yard and around to the backyard.

I grabbed Dali, leashed him, and charged out around the house as the boy started coming back while my mom got my grandparents. Dali was mad, bouncing and barking, I kept him out of range from hurting the kid, but loose enough the boy could not get past until my grandparents got there and chewed the kid a new one.

He got praised and cookies, a job well done, and done beautifully. I also recall the time I was at a pay phone in the middle of the night, and two guys would NOT buzz off, kept trying to get me to pay attention and give them my number. I kept talking, and let Dali out the full 6ft of the leash. One guy swore Dali wouldn't do anything and tried to get closer...but then thought better of it when Dali kept barking and jumping. A mad Ibizan is something to see, I know Dali had a deep bark, but there was nothing like seeing a dog jump 6ft in the air from a standstill, trying to get at someone.

He also had an interesting manner of playing at times. He'd throw 'temper tantrums' on the bed, grumbling, bouncing, pulling his ears to his face and biting the blanket. In the yard, he'd race around, and dig to make holes big enough, and half as deep if you were going to bury a big chair. And his little stuffed lamb that I got for him when he got neutered. He loved that thing and would carry it all over. If he squeaked it, he'd put it down and look at it like he hurt it.

Where as I can't recount every super special event in this dog's life, I'm hoping that people can see what a balanced dog he was. Personality and how he was built, has set the bar very high for me in regards to this breed. Some of the US breeders had a weird phase going on with the dogs they were producing. In recent years I've seen more and more Ibizans that I actually like, so that's good news. I'm not sure if I ever will get another Ibizan though.



In Memory Of Dali, And For The Love Of The Breed.