Tycho (who feels his full name, "Sampson's Tycho Brahe of Westover, Mighty Killer of Vermin," is more consonant with his dignity and regal appearance) came to us on June 22, 2001, from Alaskan Malamute Rescue of Ohio. At the time he was about 6 or 7 months old (he still had one remaining puppy tooth), full of energy and possessed of an attention span of about 3 seconds. He is our first Siberian Husky; we weren't quite prepared for a dog that bounced off the walls and shed about a pound and a half of hair every day, but we've learned to deal with them all, and he's calmed down a lot in the ensuing years. By the way, don't ever let anyone tell you dogs can't talk: this dog has an amazing repertoire of sounds, each of which has a specific meaning. Tycho is by far the most vocal dog we've ever had, and he's got us pretty well trained to know what he's "talking" about.
We got him as a tribute to the memory of our late beloved Tucker, who was part Husky. If you've been reading these doggie bio sketches you'll also see that he looked a good deal like my father's dog Dante, though I didn't realize it when we got him. The picture at right was taken not long after he arrived.
Since the 22nd of June is the Summer solstice, we named him after the 16th-Century Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe, who is known today mainly as having been the teacher of the great Johannes Kepler. Tycho Brahe made the best of the pre-telescope measurements of the heavenly bodies, and though he himself always believed that the Earth was the center of the Universe, Kepler later used Tycho Brahe's data to prove that it wasn't, and that Galileo was right about the heliocentric nature of the Cosmos.
Our Tycho isn't interested in the stars at all, but rather in subterranean things, specifically moles. He's an ace mole-catcher. Within a month of his arrival had scored several times, in the process digging up a fair percentage of our back yard. He has since greatly improved his technique. At last count he had at least 40 confirmed kills, including several small birds, three fully-grown woodchucks, and a rabbit. One of his favorite meals is woodchuck, preferably still warm and wiggling. He'll eat the entire thing: furs, bones, guts, and all. He's also incredibly fond of apples. He and Tessa eat windfall apples by the bushel, and I've seen him leap as much as 4 feet in the air to snatch one off a low-hanging branch. He can catch mourning doves by stalking them and knocking them out of the air when they take off. I'm not entirely sure how dumb a bird has to be to let a five-foot long white dog sneak up to him but I've seen it with my own eyes. He hasn't—yet—tangled with a possum or a skunk, but no doubt that's only a matter of time. The small critters in our yard have put a price on his head. Any cat foolish enough to cross the fence wouldn't last 30 seconds.
When he's not engaged in what the rescue organization euphemistically described as "...primitive canine behaviors..." he's into random digging and the removal of flowers from Susan's garden. Perhaps this is a way to vary his diet. He gets along well with Meg and Tessa. As he matured we thought that he'd claim the position of Senior Dog, but Princess Tessa managed to prevent a coup d'etat chien, by the astute political maneuver of assigning him the Assistant Dog position despite his youth.
Dr. Caceci's Bio Sketch
| Susan | Tycho | Meg | Tessa | Toby | Tucker | Dante | Penny |
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VM8054 Veterinary Histology