No Finer Thing
Grab a beer it's a long one.......
I was lucky enough to grow up on a farm. My grand parents farm. I pretty much got used to animals pretty quick. I also quickly found out how unpredictable they can be too. My grandfather had a Shepard for about 12 years. One day when I was a little shy of three I was in the house with my grandmother and the dog. My grandfather had just stepped out for something. I pointed at the dog and it set on me. Ripped up my hand and went to work on my face. My grandmother got the broom and got between us. There was a pretty big ruckus so my grandfather came rushing back. He saw me all bloodied up and saw grandma swatting and poking at the dog. My grandfather rushed the dog and picked it up by the scruff of the neck and croup. He turned and threw the dog down into the entry. He also followed him. The dog yelped and rolled and was quickly coming back to my grandfather who was coming to it. He grabbed the dog again knowing the bad intent of the dog. He sent the dog down the cellar stairs this time and his pace quickened. He intercepted the dog about halfway down the staircase as the dog lunged. Grandpa took a sidestep wrapped his arm around the dogs neck and grabbed his body and drove it into the stair casement. I did my stint as a Midget Mummy body double after the skin seamstress did her thing and life went on for all but the dog.
Other than a few scars and a weird lifelong distaste of Shepard’s and their almost unanimous distaste for me, I get along great with dogs. Almost immediately my grandfather got another dog. This one was a quite a bit smaller. His name was Buffy which was for his color. I have since wondered if he might have also been named for a town brouhaha about the Fire Station being built with Buff colored bricks. Quite a civil war between the “red brickers” and the “buff brickers” went on in this otherwise quiet hamlet. But in this case families were busted up and we made national news. Buff bricks were considerable cheaper, so we got buff. Oh…. I was talking about my dog Buffy! Don’t let me do that again! (BTW Here 30 years later they re-bricked the Fire Station with red this time!!..I guess pockets are deeper or it was a Fire Sale.)
Buffy was a great pal. I remember getting under the stove with him. Stoves used to be up on legs and this made a real nice toasty place under and in back of them. It’s weird but I remember sharing Dog Biscuits with Buffy under that stove. Weird! We’d take long walks around the property. And when I went to school he would wait with me at the bus and be waiting when I got back off. Buds.
Years pass……
HalfEar
I was working as a jewelry polisher. Boring work but paid pretty good at the time and I was in school so it was perfect. This guy gets hired and grabs the booth next to me. Over a week I get to know him a little. He had just got out of the army and was gonna get a stake up and take off ala “Then Came Bronson” a TV show glamorizing the drifter‘s life. Kind of a pre Kung Fu Kain with a motorcycle. I watched it. Back to this kid. I know he went thru the Army but he WAS a kid. He had bought this beat up El Camino that he kept telling me he was gonna cherry it out. I had seen it and it was evident he had neither the money or the know how to even keep it on the road. So one day he tells me he has a Red Doberman puppy. I’m a little concerned cause I know he lives with his uncle who by his accounts is number one sphincter. He’s telling me his uncle has beat the dog and he has to go. All I can see is red. He says he might have to sell him. I know the guy is fishing so I tug a little and learn he spent $600 for this dog . Now this is quite a while ago and that is a lot for a puppy. Today it’s cheap… but anyway. He says he has to get $500. Then he does it…... He sets me off on a unalterable course. He says if I want to see the dog it’s out in his car. He’s had to bring it to work for a few days and the damn thing is shitting and eating his car. He says come out at lunch and see the puppy and you bet …that’s just what I did.
I knew what was gonna happen. It had played over and over in my mind since he said the puppy was in his junk cartruck. The puppy was sleeping on what was left of the seat but when he spotted us he dove and tried to get under the seat. The kid was fumbling with the keys and I’m trying not to let the steam leak out of my ears and give me away. He finally opens the door and is pulling the dog out from under the seat and it happened. Everything goes erie quiet and I see my hand grabbing his shoulder and yanking him out of the car. I toss him about 2 yards away from the car and now he’s starting to mouth. As I bow to get the puppy I watch him waiting for a charge but he’s not feeling too froggy. He just keeps jawing. I get a hand on the puppy and start just rubbing him. He quickly relaxed and I had him out. He was shaking like a leaf as I looked him over.
Then GI JOE says never mind I’m not selling him and moves forward to take him. I put my hand on his chest and stopped his movement and said “Think about what you are about to do. Think hard. You do not have a dog anymore. Your problem is solved. Don’t get into another problem so soon. I will take the dog and you are paid in full!”. I turned and walked away expecting to get blindsided by the kid and just telling myself not to kill him if he does. But he just stood there slackjawed watching me as I walked with the puppy to my van. I got in with the puppy and drove home. I put the puppy in the bathroom with some water and went to the pet store for supplies. By nightfall the puppy was laying on my lap as I watched TV.
The next day at work after getting reamed by the boss for leaving at lunch and not telling anyone I saw the kid coming towards me. He had found some tin balls somewhere and was demanding his $500 for the puppy. I stopped him as I turned in his direction. I pulled out my money clip and peeled off two hundred dollar bills and threw them down on the floor. I told him to pick them up and never come near me again or I would take them back with interest.
By the next week he didn’t show up for work. I heard his uncle had kicked him out and he had to sell his junk truck cause he got arrested for getting in a bar fight. He had lit out for parts unknown. Good.
The puppy had been cropped but one ear had suffered cartilage damage and refused to stand, otherwise the dog was just beautiful. The Vet said he was healthy and will make a fine dog. (Turns out the Vet raised red Dobies) So I gave my red puppy the name of HalfEar. The girl I lived with, Mary was a jogger and used to take him with her when she went out running. She said other dogs never bothered her when she was running with HalfEar. He was a very smart noble beast indeed. Rippling with muscle and beaming with intelligence I could tell him to stay and he would not move an inch for an half hour.
I was training him once and had him sitting about 20 yards away from me when a old lady I knew forever came up the drive up using a walker. HalfEar and I spotted her at the same time and I prayed. He broke for her and I started yelling with everything I had to stop. But he continued at her going top speed and I could see lawsuits and medical bills to fill and ruin a lifetime. But at the last second he skidded to a stop and walked around to her side where she could take her hand off the walker and pet him. He just sat there looking up at her and she was just giggling petting him and saying what a beautiful dog he was. I was pissed, relieved and proud all at the same time.
For years he was my shadow. If he was not with me people would ask why and if I had to describe where I lived they would usually say where that beautiful big red dog lives? I will never know why he bolted that night years later. He was out on his cable and I was inside having a disagreement with Mary and I heard a thunk. It never registered with me what it could be until I went to get HalfEar back in and he was gone. His choke collar snapped laying in the grass. I called him for a half hour in the rain before I went back in to get my keys and go driving. That’s when my cousin came knocking on my door asking where my dog was. By the look in his eye I knew why he asked. My boy was hit by a car and he was gone. The couple that hit him had stopped and was waiting. I told my cousin to go tell them to leave and if there was any damage to give my cousin the info and I would make it right. I got a blanket and went to get my buddy.
I picked him up and brought him home. I left him in the van to be buried on my parents property the next day. I went into the house not feeling anything and sat in my usual chair staring at nothing and thinking nothing. Mary got upset and scared that I was doing nothing and she gave me a little bitty book opened to a chapter on death. It was Kahlil Gibran’s “The Prophet”. Before I hit the end of the chapter I was balling like a baby. To this day I think it defused a very bad situation. I don’t know what I was gonna do but after the read I didn’t have enough left to do anything but deal with it. It was just what I needed. Through the years that little book has done more for me than I can say. Thanks Mary! I am in no way religious in fact you could say I am anti-religious and I would not argue with you. But that little book has saved me a few times.
Rhody
After HalfEar passed I spent about 3 months in a fog. I saw his shadow everywhere and caught myself wondering where he was only to be shocked at the stray thought. One day I was riding by a neighboring town animal shelter and I drove in. I made a promise to myself to only look and while walking in I made another over riding promise that I would have a another red dog or nothing at all. My brain works in a funny way. I can wrestle it into submission but when I turn my back…wham…coldknocked by grey matter!
So I go in and ask to see the curs. He tells me there are not too many dogs and no puppies but I ask to see them anyway. I make my way down the dim corridor with kennels on both sides . My heart breaks for these unlucky dogs that must have had some family life and someone who cared for them at some time. Then I see a small cage and a blur of red in it all tightly coiled and sleeping. I remember thinking how could something sleep during this as the dogs were making a big racket. I walk over to the cage and a small red head lifts up and looks right at me with beautiful golden eyes. It is obviously a puppy and I fall his prey.
At once I am back out to the office and inquiring about the little red puppy. I am told he is not up for adoption and at this I ask who he is going to. Maybe I can get in touch and make a deal. But the officer says he’s not going anywhere. I’m confused at this so he tells me the office has deemed the puppy not adoptable. When I ask why I am given a stand answer which translates to “none of your business”. I reaffirm that I want the puppy and nothing is now going to stand in my way. I plan on contacting everyone I know to achieve this or even conducting a covert operation to free the hostage if necessary. The officer relents and says it’s not up to him but he will ask his superiors that night and for me to call in the morning for a verdict.
I spent all that night making plans to have a dog or to spring a dog in the next 24 hours. When I call in the morning I am told I can adopt the dog. I can’t get there fast enough and a couple hours later I am headed home with little Rhody. I learned that Rhody is a Chesapeake Bay Retriever and my dog book says he will be a medium sized stocky dog. Very intelligent and loyal, the dog is used for hunting and makes a great companion. He fits my wish list to a “T”. I make an appointment with my vet for the next day.
I enter the vets with Rhody and see my vet and his staff light up as Rhody takes over the office. All puppy he is running from person to person and is continuous movement with all these people to play with. We get him corralled and the vet gets his stethoscope in him and I see my vet’s face change. I ask what’s wrong and I get silence while he feels my puppy all over. At last he looks at me and tells me to take him back. I am stunned as he tells me my puppy has a bad heart and is the runt of a litter. He will not live long he says. I am in a haze. He says he could pass today or he could pass 3 years from now but he doesn’t see much more than that. The puppy has a hole in his heart and that must be why he was at the shelter and deemed not adoptable. He was surprised they let me adopt him in the first place.
I take the puppy home not knowing which way is up or down but it is not before long I decide that whatever the puppy has for time on this earth it will be with me and it will be quality. I’m back at the vet in a few days and he is telling me the do’s and don’ts of caring for Rhody. The biggest was don’t let him get too tired or over exerted. Tell that to a Retriever. A butterfly flying by his nose will send a Retriever into convulsions. As soon as you let Rhody off the leash he would go full tilt around the back fields like a Greyhound. He was always ready to play but would walk with you as calm as can be on the leash. About 2 years later I got a job that took me away quite a bit and I would take Rhody to my parents where he had a 50 yard cable run and 6x6 cage with a doghouse for the days. At night I would take him home to his own bed. That third year my traveling picked up and my father suggested he stay there until weekends. My father was in the early stages of lung disease but he and Rhody would go walking up back around the field and a recreation park the town built there. It was great for both Rhody and my father. But the weekends were mine and Rhody’s. Late in that third year I got a call from my mother saying to come, that something was happening to Rhody. I traveled straight there to find my father outside sitting with Rhody who was just sitting and shaking. I took one look and knew it was not good. One look at my father told me he knew too.
So I took Rhody to the Vet riding with his head on my lap shaking like a leaf. The vet confirmed my worst fears the end was near for my little red. We eased his pain and he took his leave. He rests next to HalfEar and they await me and the rest of the crew. He had 3 good years and was loved greatly by many.
Again years pass…..
Buster the Wonder Dog
I had bought a house on a lake. Initially I had bought it and moved in with my girlfriend and her son. But a year into the mistake I changed the arrangement. Suddenly I was alone in a big house. I had a good job but something was going wrong. I was getting pretty severe pain in my extremities. Tons of tests and blind treatment did no good and the pain spread. I was looking at the local paper and there was an ad for Labrador Retriever puppies. I called and the voice said to come over and pick put a pup but they wouldn’t be ready for a week. So off I went. I was greeted at the road end of a long dirt driveway by two beautiful Black labs and escorted to the house. I noticed that there was a Town Police car in the yard but thought no more of it as I exited the truck and the Labs almost bowled me over in their eager enthusiasm.
Two people emerged from the house. One, a cop I remembered from an article in the paper about a cop and his dog. His dog was the drug sniffer for our town and his owner is the cop. This dog was also the sire of the litter of pups I was here to see. So, down to the barn where a small coral contained about 11 puppies. Most had either pink or blue ribbons around their necks with names written on them. I could see about 4 that did not have ribbons. One of the unribboned ones made his way up to the side of the enclosure and I picked him up. He never let out a sound as I looked him over. I chose the little black puppy as much as he chose me so I paid his fee and was told he’d be ready Easter Sunday. So would I.
I named him Buster in honor of his father and he became my shadow. It was not long before I took a turn for the worse and had to go out of work for 6 months on sick leave. Buster was my rock in this time. He was growing up into this jet black very intelligent dog. I even bought him his own black Futon mattress and he slept on it next to my bed.
One time I looked over and he was not there which was odd if I was in bed so was he. So I tiptoed down the hall and spotted him in the bathroom with his head down in the waste paper basket. I stomped in fast yelling “NO” and gave him a little crack on the ass. I don’t think it was the crack. I think it was the stomp and the “NO” that scared him silly. But from that day on he knew the word no and he followed it. I could leave his favorite snack in the world on a chair seat say “NO” and leave for the day and it would stay there till I gave it to him.
His first toy was a little plastic Snoopy Sneaker that squeaked. He had it for 11 years. He’d play with it but never destroyed it or anything else except Pig’s Ears. It wasn’t long before I say “Buster go get a can of food.” And he’d be back with a can of dog food in his mouth. He had about 6 balls of all colors and I could tell him what color ball to go get and he’d return in short time with the right ball. I remember seeing a sick video of duck hunters with a Black Lab who got to the pond and it was covered with ice so they had a stick of dynamite . They lit the dynamite and threw it onto the pond where they had forgot about the dog who immediately ran to fetch the stick. I won’t go into detail but it reminded me of Buster. You could not throw a thing without that dog getting it and returning it. And show him some water and he was in heaven. I had to keep him out of the small pond in back of my house where he slit open his paw on some bottles some nitwit local kids had broken in it. But I would take him to the town beach before and after hours where he just went crazy. I can still see the water coming off his otter’s tail as it waved back and forth waiting for a Frisbee toss out into the pond. He loved when I threw it down the shore and he could go pounding thru the water crashing and sending spray everywhere. Great fun!
He’d chase any squirrel anytime anywhere. In fact all you had to do was say “squirrel” and he’d be doing circles looking for the critter. I saw him catch one out in the open only once and they just stood there looking at each other not a foot apart when the squirrel broke and ran . Buster was all too happy to comply and I learned it was the chase that drove him. Great dog!
From the get go as a puppy Buster loved to ride in my cars or trucks. In fact if I didn’t take him he would pout. Years later I saw fatty tumors develop on him. One large one developed under his front leg and I talked to the vet about it. He said if it didn’t bother him don’t bother it. But in a while I did notice him licking it obsessively.
I had the vet take it off along with a couple of small ones and boy did I regret it. I stayed up all night long with Buster that night and the next day as he refused to lay down. He would try but the stitches must have pulled too much cause he’d cry out and just stand on his bed. I sat on his bed and stayed with him. After all that time he just passed out and if he didn’t I was gonna. I swore I would never do that again.
In his 10th year I noticed another fatty tumor develop. It was on his back leg and at first it did not trouble me or him. The vet said to watch it cause it was not in a good position. I did not know what he meant nor did I ask. In about 4 months time it about doubled in size. A return to the vet devastated me. The tumor had surrounded an artery and had hardened. The vet told me there was nothing that could be done it was just time we had. By the time 6 months had come it was a gigantic thing that had a pulse and seemed to always be hot to the touch. Buster had slowed down and was arthritic which helped him cope with it. That spring we had a good sized snowfall and it crusted over with ice and I don’t know why but Buster had to go walk through it. In doing so he tore the skin and the tumor wanted out. I took him to the vet and we bandaged it but we both knew it would not hold. It gave me three more days with my boy and I would not have traded them for anything.
Buster was cremated and will play with me once more when I join him. I have his box in my house and there are instructions to join us and free us at the right time. Retrievers are special dogs with special souls. Seems funny now but I remember a great argument I had with my college professor of Philosophy. He was a Rabbi (Which bothered me a little and I let him know) and was under the impression that animals do not have souls and will not join us in heaven. I was inflamed at his statement and let him know. After a heated argument we ended up polling the class how they felt. I was astounded to find it split about 50/50. I asked who had ever owned a dog and those same 50% who thought they had no souls were the ones that had never owned a dog. I found that to be empirical proof that 50% didn’t know what they were talking about. The professor included. The professor made me read Swinburg’s “The Evolution of the Soul” which I found to be a distasteful essay on human’s egotistical reasoning of self worth. I think it was the final straw in me turning completely away from organized religion and to this day I will go where dogs go be it heaven, hell or anywhere in between. If there are no people there…well..so much the better! (I also got an A for the Philosophy class. I do enjoy a good argument sometimes but this was close to the heart.)
Gypsy Eyes, My Great Dane
There is a true gentleman that lives near me. His name is Leon and he is the spitting image of Santa Claus. Snow white hair and full beard a constant generous smile and a talk all day demeanor makes this man a close friend. So it’s a month after I put my Buster to rest and I am still grieving his passing. My body has ramped up the attacks on me and my boy is gone and I am not in a good place at all. Leon stops by and we talk even tho I am not in much of a mood for talk. But I tell him all about Buster and his life and it does seem to help a little.
A few days later he stops again and asks me to go for a ride with him. I get in his minivan thinking he needs help with a motor or to move something but he says we are going to his daughters place. So we go about 20 miles out into deep country and up a pretty long dirt driveway. We park next to a long ranch house and before I can get out of the van I see a big head looking in. And there is one on Leon’s side too! Leon says don’t mind them they are gentle giants and we get out. We go up the porch with the two beasties beside us and are welcomed into the house by Leon’s daughter. She apologizes about the mess but when I look about I see an indoor coral with a bunch of little critters scampering and playing. She reaches in and takes out three little ones. They look like little tigers with stripes and fighting little attitudes that become evident as soon as she puts them on the floor. Brindle Great Dane puppies are all legs and heads which neither seem attached to anything. Oblivious to us they are rolling and nipping at each other as one breaks and bolts for the rocking chair with the other two soon in full chase.
She looks at me and says “Pick one!”. I look at Leon and he is in full glow. “Go ahead!” he says. I protest saying I can’t it’s too early and a Great Dane! My brother had a couple Great Danes and neither one went past 7 years old. I couldn’t take that! One bolts from the tangled puppy WrestleMania and comes bounding over towards me but skids to a stop and looks up at me with golden eyes. Leon’s daughter says that this puppy is her daughters favorite but to me all I hear is mufawawuglati cause I am falling in love. I am handed the puppy and it fits in one hand. I really cannot believe this is one of the beasts that greeted us as we drove in. You would have had to kill me to get me to put that puppy back down.
So while Santa drove us back to my house the little girl named Gypsy Eyes in honor of a Jimi Hendrix song laid quietly in my hands. At first it was hard not to judge this girl by Buster standards but I must because they are two completely different dogs. I hand never had a female dog either. The first visit to the vet was complete turmoil. Everyone there had to hold the little tiger. Neighbors who would merely give a nod when getting the mail or cutting grass were coming over to play or give the little one a toy. One even got mad because she kept hinting she would dog sit or just take her for a play date at her house and I graciously refused each time she would air her invitation. Unfortunately Buster’s Squeaker Sneaker was the first thing Gypsy destroyed. But not the last. She was a little terror. When she started getting her real teeth and losing her milk teeth I gave her a zillion ice cubes but she still insisted on chewing everything and shredding toys.
Today she is a lot better and I would trust her with a cookie on the chair if I told her not to touch it. I’d say it was 85/15 she eats the cookie but only after a good amount of time passed. Gypsy owns my truck and scolds me if I leave without her. I get back and am in for 5 full minutes of jawing. She sure has her moods and can be sooooo good and then like a switch was flipped she goes deaf. She is at the height that anything on a table or sideboard is within reach. She is a seek and destroy of anything mistakenly left anywhere under the roofline. She knows when something was bought for her and will nose into the bag. Happiness is leaning against you until you fall away fatigued from fighting her mass. With people she is a gentle soul and will sometimes come up and rest her head on the arm of a chair and stare at you. She tells you when she is hungry or thirsty with a lick of her lips. She has a running war with her nemesis, namely her tail that has her spinning in the kitchen like a top. Her favorite toy is a big ball on a nice big thick rope. She runs and swings the ball over her shoulders sometimes just swinging it hard into the ground. One time she will walk up and just give it to you and others she will tease you with it. I’m not sure if it is breed or gender but she is day and night from Buster. They are both MY dogs but deal(t) with me two different ways. Buffy, HalfEar, Rhody and Buster will always be my boys and Gypsy will always be my girl. There is not a force in this universe that can alter that.
Well I have been pretty long winded. Gypsy and I continue our journey and every day I learn and laugh more with my pretty girl. She is 2 years old as of this writing and another damn good dog. I cannot understand how some go through life without this experience. Sure there are low spots and dealing with the passing of a great friend is truly not easily handled, but the thought of never experiencing the life of such a wondrous animal I cannot fathom. Truly, mans best friend will teach you more than turn around 5 times before you lie down. They will teach you friendship that never wavers and love that is boundless. There is not much on this side of the mooon that becomes so close and comforting than a good dog. May you experience it for yourselves….and Be Well!
AmbergrismOoOn
They shoot horses don't they?
