With the elegant length and short stature typical of a basset hound, to the untrained eye, Winston may appear distinguished. He’s the right amount of flabby a basset should be given their appetites and noses. His silky mahogany ears drag across the ground with both utility and grace. 

We adopted Winston as a puppy two months before Covid shutdowns. He knew nothing except the life of a sheltered starlet, confined to the safety of our house and adored for his exaggerated proportions. We spoiled him silly with constant company and attention, because we knew the arrangement was temporary. 

For another covid companion story, check here!

Winston’s quirks became concerning when every day operations resumed. The micro-behaviors that warned us of his aggression like the slightest twitch of his muzzle or the dilation of his pupils went unnoticed by those outside the immediate family. 

He protected his food fiercely. If left to his own devices, Winston let out a high-pitched whine that would not cease until he was coddled. Animals and strangers were both predator and prey; He’d simultaneously cower to the ground and violently bay if he spotted any living thing during neighborhood walks.

Bassets are denoted by their unusual personalities, stubbornness, and distinct stature. The lockdown ended up amplifying what was already in Winston’s nature. With only people to socialize with, he carries himself with an uncanny humanity, but without the ability to comprehend it. 

He slumps his rolls over armchairs, bubbling a tired sigh through his jowls like a man overworked. Winston’s internal clock is unrelenting, and he is not above using physical force to ensure others adhere to his schedule. When I came home for breaks during college, his grudges left little room for misinterpretation. 

“Winston, you have to look at me,” I’d say. 

He deliberately contorted his plump body away from me, and I would catch his eyes glancing over every few seconds. He’d only forgive me when my suitcase was out of sight. 

Winston inherited the irritable skin and allergies of a typical basset hound, and his aggression extended from being poked and prodded with ointments or necessary grooming. During peak pollen season, Winston wakes up irritated by the consequences of fat folds. His eyes darken with shame and discomfort and even those of us in the house designated “safe” pose a risk. 

Try to touch him in this state and he could draw blood.

“Looks like it’s just some bad breeding,” is the general prognosis for the dog who can only go to local dog parks at strange hours just to sniff the fence in peace. The world was much larger and more frightening than we let on six years ago, and Covid dogs like Winston can’t understand how and why they got exposed to it so abruptly. 

The truth behind Winston’s character lies somewhere between the nature of his breed and Covid-induced behavioral pitfalls. It feels unsophisticated to admit that upon re-emerging from lockdown, I too trembled at the same things as him. Sirens were louder and people were taller than I remembered. Reality had been defined, altered, then redefined. 

It was no simple transition for anyone. 

There was a time where Winston and I shared the same anti-anxiety medication, down to the milligram. He’s good about taking the pills, despite knowing it’s usually followed by a bath, a stranger in the house, or a trip to the vet. The pill tugs at a pretend gravity that pull at his already-droopy face like taffy. His eyes go a little sparkly and cross eyed. He looks like Eeyore, but His stressors grew more tolerable. 

Three years after the initial lockdown, we adopted Winston’s brother, Charlie. Besides being a little bow-legged, Charlie is a happy ragdoll in awe of the world he grew up in. Where Winston stands solid and sturdy, Charlie is gentle and malleable. His optimistic curiosity gave Winston gradual permission to soften. If Charlie approves of anything, Winston feels inclined to join. 

Winston and Charlie have a daily ritual where they howl in sync, a terrible cacophony of wailing that lets them process their intense feelings in one big swing. They rotate different observation posts when there’s an empty house, but inevitably fall asleep on the job. 

Humans provide an audience for his melodrama, but Charlie’s company brings out Winston’s long-dormant dog qualities. He loves on-leash walks and doesn’t mind meeting other dogs and people, so long as no one makes direct eye contact for too long or smells like nail polish. His favorite holiday is Halloween but has to go without a costume, because clothing makes him stand very still. 

Winston is happiest in that balance; Where accommodating his needs looks silly and requires forewarning, but makes for the most well-adjusted a Covid dog can get. 

His trust is earned with time. He favors consistency and calm, and once he deems you a safe person, it is permanent. He will be an unfailing alarm clock, weighted blanket, food scraps bin, and companion, provided you respect his space and let him perpetually disrespect yours. 

Winston ceremoniously declares his trust by dismounting from the couch, trotting over to my respective seat, and climbing into my lap. All 60+ pounds goes limp in a huff of relief. Even with his stressors, he still finds a way to be at peace.