The Story of Mu'Addib

SunDiata's Mu'Addib   Nov 25, 1999 - Nov 17, 2010

by David Jones

November 21, 2010

Hi everyone,

Thank you for the kind words and thoughts. I’m doing fine. Nothing an 18yr old single malt scotch can’t handle. Mu’addib’s passing was a good enough reason to crack that dusty bottle open. I wrote this more for myself but I thought it might make a good read. Enjoy...

The world of Basenjis

In 1999 after I stopped working and bought my little house I got it into my head to get a dog. But which type? As a child I once saw a Basenji, the barkless dog of Africa. It had made a lasting impression on me so I decided to look for one. Basenjis are relatively rare and are known as the royal breed of dogs. Well, time went by and one day I answered an ad in the newspaper ( one of few I’ve ever seen since). I spoke to a nice lady who seemed very curious as to who I was, where I lived, what kind of household and the such. It seemed a bit like a job interview but I didn’t mind. As a result she invited me to her home in flagstaff, AZ. So I traveled from S. Arizona to N. Arizona to meet her, her husband and her pack of basenjis. It was from there that I entered into the eccentric world of the Basenji.

Basenji breeders and owners are a fanatical bunch. Breeders are extreme about who gets a basenji and owners are overbearing and covet their ownership. Yes, me included. Well Chris and her husband Jim were great people and we hit it off wonderfully. Chris had been breeding for about 20 years or so. She had her own distinct lineage and was looking for people to sell her current litter of pups to. I had come thinking that I would get the runt of the litter as I was not looking for a show dog. I had explained that I would raise him for hunting and trekking the wilderness with me. Well, this must have intrigued Chris as she offered me the pick of the litter...an alpha male whom she felt needed a strong personality to raise him. Thus, I met Sundiata’s Mu’addib, the striking guy you saw in the picture. I called him “Mu”. He was 8 weeks old.

Mu’addib is special among the basenji world as he is called a half African. His father was an African import brought into the United States to strengthen the genetics of the American basenji. I considered it an honor to have him and still do to this day.

The elk, the wolves and food coma

Our first adventure together was to an elk camp full of men helping a friend hunt for a bull elk. Typical camp of hunters. Everyone was happy to be in the high country and excited for the opportunity to find an elk. Mu’addib was a hit among everyone. He was only about 9 months old but you could already see his self-assured and pushy personality. He had no fear in him. Each morning we would set out in our vehicles and scatter across the countryside to look for elk. After a few days I finally got that call on the radio that my friend had killed his elk. We all converged on the kill site to help with the carcass and soon everyone was busy lending a hand with the butchering. At first Mu’addib stood off with his hair standing up watching this scene in front of him but soon his curious nature got to him and he came over to the carcass. He sniffed, then began to tear meat off of a hind leg. We all stood there in fascination over his actions. He would tear off a piece of meat, gnaw on it a few times, then swallow the chunk whole. He did this until he was bloated. He was in paradise.

Soon we were back in camp and a few of the guys began caping the skull. Shortly, they were laughing and called me over. Mu’addib had decided that the skull was his and while standing over it, was fighting off the guys. I had to pull him off to let them finish the job. None of us could stop laughing at his antics. Evening rolled around and found everyone standing by the fire pit. Mu had retired to the warmth of my sleeping bag when out of the darkness came the howl of a wolf. We all jumped for our flashlights and began scanning around the camp. Sure enough the wolves had surrounded the camp and were intent on getting whatever they could steal. I went into a panic thinking Mu would come out and bolt for the wolves in the darkness. I rushed to the tent to leash him down before all hell broke loose. Well, there was Mu asleep with food coma totally oblivious to the world around him. He had his adventure and was happy to be in the warmth of the sleeping bag. He never knew that his brethren was just 50 yards from him. Oh and the wolves, they managed to steal the skull in the middle of the night.

Wilderness traffic jam

When Mu was a year old he was bred to one of Chris’s females. They produced two pups. I got one and called him Rowdy. Now I have two basenjis of which everybody took to calling them “the boys”. The dominant Mu and the sweetheart Rowdy.

On this trip we were again in the high country on a trek through some countryside that I wanted to explore for a future adventure. I was rounding a hill with the boys ahead of me when I noticed them standing stock still. They were looking at a large herd of elk not 50 yards from us. Suddenly, I heard a sound to my right and looked over to see a bunch of turkeys coming towards us. Now there we are, human, basenjis, elk, and turkeys all standing still staring at each other. For what seemed like an eternity we stood there until the turkeys decided that this was not a good situation and spooked. Well, this spooked everyone else and then all hell broke loose. There I stood with elk, turkeys and basenjis running in all directions around me. A total cluster f**k of creatures. All I could do was start laughing at the hilarity of the situation. Perhaps you have to be there to enjoy the moment but it was one of those rare experiences that one gets to enjoy in the wilderness.

On another trip into the desert mountains we were coming out after a long trek, looking forward to going home for a hot shower and a warm bed. We were following an ancient animal trail leading to my truck. It’s rough country so I had to be careful with my footing. I was concentrating on the trail when I suddenly looked up to find myself standing face to face with a bear. He was less than 10 feet from me and was also concentrating on the trail. Since I saw him first I didn’t quite know what to do as he was so close to me. Without thinking I shouted,”Hey!”. The bear looked up, stared at me and then let out a stream of poop in fear. By this time the boys had come out of the bushes to investigate what was going on. With one sight of the bear Mu took off after him. Rowdy is a lot more cautious than Mu and decided to stick with me. So we watched Mu chase this bear up a mountainside. The bear would occasionally look back to see this little red thing on his ass. He was scared stiff and would pick up speed with each look at Mu. Finally, Mu winded and gave up the chase. He came back with a wild look on his face and grin as big as he could produce. He was in his element. He had been on the chase and had done what his kind was bred for. It was a sight to behold and a rewarding moment.

Mu’s trophy

Desert mountain stream beds are the formations of the apex of time and space. The boys and I are part of the cause and we definitely suffer the inevitable effect. The canyons were unknown to me and I was pleased to be there. The local forest ranger had recommended an area that might be good for finding deep back country deer and I was on an exploratory trip to investigate it for a possible hunt. It would take me days to get there, be there and get out. All without the assurance of water. Therefore, I was concerned as I left the trail head and trekked into the first canyon. I was headed to a much larger canyon that would lead me deep into the wilderness, and as I had hoped, there was water and it was clear and running. This had the makings for a good trip. Relieved, I headed up the larger canyon and trekked for many hours along the canyon bottom. Eventually, I began to fatigue and in need of a rest I stopped and sat down under a large oak. I took out the canteen, the boy’s cup and poured them some water to drink (they prefer filtered stream water to unfiltered. Hey, they’re basenjis!). Typically, they share the cup but Mu got an attitude and snapped at Rowdy. Rowdy snapped back and a minor fight ensued. After yelling “Stop!”, I got them to settle down but Mu looked at me and with a huff he trotted off. I watched him go knowing that he would get over it in a few minutes. So, I grabbed an energy bar, took a bite and started chewing. I stared blankly off into space for awhile until I heard Mu coming up from behind me. He casually sat down beside me and began chewing on the leg of a deer. I did a double take and noticed that it was a large leg. Excited, I asked him where he had found it, of which, I got a nasty hate stare to let me know that I was on my own.. I looked at Mu, then Rowdy, then back to Mu and then back again at Rowdy. I asked him where the deer was, where upon, he trotted off in the direction that Mu had come from. I fell in line and followed him into the bushes. Sure enough, there were the remains of a deer in a small clearing not 10 yards from the trail. It was an older deer with an absolutely beautiful set of antlers. A wonderful trophy for my collection. I took the skull, cleaned it and strapped it to my backpack. We continued on up the canyon and into the heart of the wilderness.

Recently, a friend was over for a beer and some conversation. We were admiring my collection of deer antlers, drinking the beer and thinking about our hunting adventures and the memories that they produce. Admiring the largest set of antlers he asked me how I got those. I waxed eloquently about my trip into the unknown territory. I spoke of the deep canyons filled with cold running water and described climbing the steep hilltops to overlook the majestic mountains and valleys. Proudly, I recalled my serendipitous finding of the deer. After my lengthy diatribe my friend looked over at me and said, “David, It was Mu’addib who found the deer, therefore, it’s his trophy.”. I stammered. But I relented. Then, I smiled and while taking in the sight of the antlers I said, “ You’re right. It is Mu’s trophy.”.

“Hey, it was a small tent!”

Mu’addib always had a way of deciding who was on the pecking order of the pack. Usually it was me, then Mu and everybody else way down on the list of importance. On this trip we were to camp with a friend who would meet us in the wilderness a few days after we went in. We spent our days exploring and wasting time until my friend would show up. On the third day we hooked up and trekked to our camp deep into the wilderness. Even if you are in physical shape there always comes a time when the body needs to rest. Mu reached this point upon the arrival to our camp. Stiff and sore he retired to the tent and the warmth of the sleeping bag. My friend and I busied ourselves with making a fire, fixing some food, getting some water and doing the little things one does in camp. Soon nightfall fell upon us so we decided to retire to the tent and get some sleep. Well, I went into the tent first and settled down into my sleeping bag. Typically Mu sleeps inside my wool jacket and Rowdy sleeps in a blanket. I was getting the boys settled in when my friend started to enter the tent. Well, for whatever reason, Mu growled viciously at my friend and forced him back out of the tent. Embarrassed, I quickly got up and out of the tent to apologize and reassure him that it would be okay and that he would get to sleep in the tent. But how to do that was the problem. Now, my friend had known Mu most of his life so it wasn’t as if we had a stranger among us. We were a bit confused and bewildered as we put more wood on the fire and foolishly contemplated the situation. So, there stood two grown men outdone by a 30lb basenji. We felt fairly stupid by this time as every idea we had seemed to risky. You see, it was a small tent and you had to enter it head first. Neither of us were willing to get our faces disfigured by a tired and grumpy basenji. So for awhile we stared stupidly into the flames of the fire. Then it started to snow. We looked at each other and thought “Crap! Now what?”. It was getting late, it was cold and snowing. We were getting desperate when in frustration my friend looked at me and said, “Hey, It’s your basenji. Do something!”. Dominance is about the only thing Mu respects, therefore I had to exert some form dominance and gain control of the situation. I marched over to the tent and started to talk to Mu in my “tough guy voice”. As I was doing that I forcibly bullied my way into the tent. I made sure that I didn’t look at him directly in the eyes thereby causing a challenge. Mu relented and let me into the tent. I then acted as if nothing was wrong and set about getting the boys tucked away to sleep. After I got them covered I waited a few minutes to let them calm down and called my friend in. He cautiously entered. As Mu was covered up he didn’t have to see my friend and he was able to get in and into his sleeping bag. Now we had to make it through the night. We did this without any problems. But in the morning my friend found himself with Mu inches from his face. He sheepishly said’ “Hi!”. Mu lifted his head towards my friend, closed his eyes in affection and let him pat him on the head. Problem solved. Mu had accepted my friend as a member of the pack and let him have his place in the tent for the rest of the trip.

Mu passed away just a few days short of his 11th birthday. I had to put him down after a year long struggle from complications with a staph infection. It was hard but I couldn’t let my companion suffer any longer. He was my first dog and I learned that the innate bond between a man and a dog is a beautiful thing. Mu will forever be in my memories and I shall cherish that fact.

In memoriam : Sundiata’s Mu’addib. November 25, 1999 to November 17, 2010

David