Something's Missing

It's just so damn quiet in this house these past few days. Last Saturday, I awakened to the sound of ferocious barking. There must have been barbarians at the door, or squirrels on the telephone line that crosses my yard. My dog had a hair-raising bark that gave fair warning to any who stood on his property. I miss the noise. I particularly miss the nightly ear rubs and his quiet moans and sighs of contentment. Oh! This is so hard that at times, it takes my breath away. My routines with him are broken, and so is my heart. For a couple of hours at a time, I'm OK, then I see something that reminds me of him, like these photos on my camera, and the next thing I know, I'm blubbering like a baby.

When we got Duke, it was really a poodle I wanted. A standard sized, fluffy black poodle. I'm not one to dress up a dog, or shave its hair in odd ways. I love the look of standard poodles with their fur all grown out, and generally speaking, this is a smart breed and easy to train. My son, who was a shy 11 year old at the time, told me, "if you get a poodle, I won't love it." I believed him, and researched hard for something else. I didn't want to risk getting a dog he couldn't love-or break an 11 year old boy's heart. It wasn't long before we were all piled in a car driving west to go meet our newest family member. He was from a large litter of very active pups, all of them barking, scratching to get out of their barn, and taken as a group, a little overwhelming. My son, delighted by all of the racket, sat in the middle of this melee of puppies, and was completely bewitched by the pup who climbed onto his lap and promptly fell asleep. There was no bartering, and no begging; it was a done deal from that moment forth.

Training this dog was difficult. He was not one to tolerate a crate, and when jailed in this manner, the entire neighborhood could hear his complaints. As much as I researched this breed, for some reason, I must have missed the part about their genetic issues. I think he had most of them. I missed the part about the chewing too.  It was incredible to watch him chew toys and watch him use his paws like he had hands with opposable thumbs.  He could untie the thickest of dog ropes with his teeth.  He didn't chew the ropes until he had them untied.  This boy chewed anything and everything in his path, but had a special hankering for expensive shoes.  Not everyone's shoes, just mine.  One day, I remember yelling at him over one particular shoe he chewed, long after the deed was done, and just like that, he never chewed another pair. It was as though something clicked and he finally got the message.

In his prime, this dog reached nearly 150 pounds.  He was huge.  When he was about 8 months old, I went out of town, and when I came home, it was like I was seeing this giant with new eyes.  It seemed that overnight, his chest had become massive in size, and finally looked to be in proportion to those long, long legs.  Maybe I was just seeing him with fresh eyes after a trip, but truly, I think he grew to immense size while I was away.  With his great stature, this dog was almost regal in his behavior.  He would go for walks around the neighborhood as though he owned it, and one of the few dogs he ever barked at was the Great Dane who lived a half a mile away.  It was no coincidence that the dog he chose to bark at was the only one bigger than him.    With the exception of Mr. Farmer's Kerry Blue Terrier, Duke never barked at other dogs.  He hated that terrier, almost as much as he hated the farmer behind us.

While other dogs avoided her, Duke loved Rachel unconditionally. They had a symbiotic relationship-she had the food, and by default, so did he. If she had something in her hand that he wanted, he would just take it from her. He never snapped at it, he just pulled it away from her, then she'd pat him on the head and go and get them more to eat. I was unsuccessful breaking the habit of him taking advantage of the weak.  These two worked well together. Even though she was unpredictable with movement, he was never skittish around her and trusted her implicitly. He taught himself to tell me when the bus was at the end of the drive.  He'd yip, not really bark, and this heralded Rachel's return home from school and thus, snack time. I don't know how Rachel feels about his absence here, or that she even notices it, but I think she does. When she came home from school Wednesday, I told her Duke had died. She came up to me and held my face in her hands, and hugged me. I think she knows, and just like the rest of us, she misses him.

Two years after I got this dog, I lost my dad. I went through such a terrible depression during those months that followed his death, that if not for this dog, I don't think I'd have weathered that time well. It was for him that I even got up every day.   I had to see to his needs even though I didn't care about my own. When I was feeling really down, I'd go lie down in bed, and the next thing I knew, I was being snuggled by a great big dog. Eventually, he'd fall asleep, and push me out of bed with those long, stilt-like legs. When I got up, he'd instantly awaken as though kicking me out of the bed was his plan all along, and now we had to go do something for him. Even up to last Sunday, his favorite thing to do was play hide and seek. I'd hide, and he'd search me out. No matter how hard the hiding place, he'd find me-as long as it didn't involve stairs.

With all of these big life changes upon me, I don't know how I'll weather these storms without my buddy. I've lost 4 pounds since Wednesday and also, most of my joy. My sister and I had a long talk the other night. Neither one of us think my Duke could have tolerated a big move and all the upheaval associated with leaving here. Perhaps the timing of all of this was meant to be. It doesn't hurt any less, but does ring true for me.

Duke's remains are ready to be picked up at the vet's office. I've been in touch with Debra (From Skilled Hands), and her husband is going to make an urn for Duke's ashes, and personalize it for me. Bless her little artist's heart, she's even offered to place his remains in the urn if I send them to her. I've never felt compelled to do this for a dog before, but I feel I owe it to him.  This way, he will have a prominent place in my next home, and this new chapter in my life.  

Dukealicious Dog

You would have thought we had a near catastrophic event with Duke and Rachel today. The dog was snoozing, which is what he does almost all day long now, when Rachel crawled along the floor, and used the sofa where he was napping to pull her self up. Startled, Duke yelped, jumped up, and landed on the world's loudest squeaky toy. The racket scared the hell out of all of us, including Duke. Thoroughly annoyed, Duke kicked the squeaky toy off the sofa and looked at all of us with suspicion and obvious disdain, then he yawned and went back to sleep. He's a funny boy when he sleeps-always chasing something with those long legs going a hundred miles an hour. Maybe he's dreaming of times he was capable of running like the wind.

Ever watchful and alert, except when he's napping (we've already established that's just about all day long), Duke likes to keep an eye on the barbarian activity (squirrels and rabbits) in the yard. I think he also keeps an eye on the farmer. Same difference.  Those two never really hit it off. When Duke was just a wee little hot dog on stilts (that's what he looked like), we tried to crate him. He would let loose with a symphony of dog noise only the deaf could ignore. One day, my husband was working in his home office and crated the puppy (he had a hankering for expensive shoes). The dog scratched, cried, yipped, squealed and howled for 20 minutes. Certain we were beating the spoiled little beast, Mr. Farmer hopped the fence to see why the dog was carrying on. Even though the man was there to rescue him if need be, the pup never liked him. He still doesn't care much for him-or his dogs.

With the exception of beef tenderloin, there was one thing this dog seemed to love above everything else: chasing shovels full of snow that we'd toss to him. For us this was a chore, but for him, it was a game he loved. My son used to take him in the yard for an hour and throw snowballs. Duke never tired of it, but when frostbite threatened, my son would throw in the towel. Duke always won in the stamina department. He still loves snow, but instead of catching snowballs these days, he sticks to eating it off the table I always forget to put away in the fall. Since it's the only time he's allowed to eat from the table, I can't say I blame him. He's still a handsome boy, and even if he can't chase snowballs anymore, at least he still gets to run after them in his dreams.

Today's therapy is a pair of thrummed mittens in Cascade 220 and Louet Merino roving.  This is as good for my soul as watching Dukealicious eat snow.  For today, it doesn't get better than this.

The Dog Always Nose Best

My Dukealicious Dog is going on 9 this year and he isn't doing so well.  Every time I look at him, he has a new lipoma and limps a little more.  The Tramadol I give him for pain gives him the trots-and not in a good way:  the dog isn't trotting, his gut is-all over my house.  I vacillate about giving him his pain medication.  If I do, he has an upset stomach and if I don't, he's in pain.  Maybe we just need a new drug.

This has been the best dog I've ever had in my life.  He is the sweetest beast and I had my concerns about a Doberman.  They have such fierce reputations that I've found are completely undeserved.  Duke has personality with a capital P.  He is fiercely loyal and protective.  At night, he routinely made the rounds of his pack in their rooms.  If the door was closed, he'd knock with his paw or nose to come in and check.  If you didn't let him check, he'd pace and knock until he won the battle.  He wanted to know everyone was safe.  This work ethic must have been part of his genetic code.  When he was young, I couldn't even pee without him in attendance.  Nowadays, he doesn't even get up to greet me when I come home and he no longer makes the rounds of the bedrooms at night.  He has retired.  I think just like my dying hospice patients, he mostly sleeps all day long.  He still likes to eat and like any good girl of Arab descent, I believe eating and appetite are good cardinal signs.   Despite this, he is thin and his legs have atrophied from disuse due to arthritis.  It's so sad to watch his decline.

He has been the most correct judge of human intent and worthiness.  For the most part, this judgement on his part has been toward my daughter's suitors.  If the dog had an inkling that their character was flawed, or wanting, he'd growl and snarl until he intimidated the young men into leaving the house.  Because he batted 1,000 in respect to ferreting out creeps, for years if my daughter found someone she was particularly fond of, she was afraid to bring him around for the final test with Duke.  This dog's opinion was never wrong and he pretty much disliked them all.  The last serious boyfriend she had was the exception.  He never snarled and let the boyfriend pet him.  He didn't just tolerate the young man, he liked him. This relationship went on for a year and we were all comfortable with things.  I had visions of a fabulous wedding and grandchildren dancing in my head and then abruptly, Duke changed his mind about things.  He sensed what the rest of us couldn't see.  Two weeks later, the young man was out of our lives because his feelings had changed.  Duke knew it first and when he first sensed it, he had snapped at him, almost snagging his ear.  This was a rare behavior for my dog.  He never bit anyone, but wanted to this time.  Maybe he was hurt too.

Sometimes, the people he likes surprise me.  He has a thing for Mr. Larger Than Life.  I'm surprised only because MLTL doesn't like my dog.  He barely tolerates Duke.  To the dog, this is a challenge he has never turned down.  He's made it his mission to make my father in law like him.  I don't think it'll ever happen.

I'm feeling badly about my dog's suffering.  When and where should I draw the line?  When he can no longer get up?  When he stops eating?  How can I tell he has had enough and my forcing him to do things satisfies only me and not him?  I've got to tell you, this one hurts.  I know to some, he is just a dog, but to me, he is my companion and a part of my pack. 

Sweet Beyond Words

BD (before Duke), I wanted a standard poodle. I love those dogs. They're smart and beautiful. I'm not the kind of girl who dresses her dog up. I think they're gorgeous all on their own without pompoms and hairdos. My son who was quite young at the time told me if I got a poodle that he wouldn't love it. He was serious. So we got Duke the Giant Dobie. We had pick of the litter and Duke was the most obnoxious of all. He pushed the other pups out of the way (muscled them out) and climbed into my son's lap and promptly fell asleep. He has been the ruler of the roost since. When I showed the men in my house the dog I wanted to rescue they both nixed it. I promptly showed them what I think of that and brought her home today. My son is smitten.

This is Ellie (BK wants to call her Shelby but that is his Mustang fixation showing.) She is a very affectionate dog. She has endeared herself to Rachel (I think it's the long tail) by climbing into her lap. She has already figured out that Rachel leaves crumbs. I was relieved this meeting between Rachel and Ellie went so well. If it hadn't, we would have had to get rid of one of them.

Duke is not so happy, but Ellie is trying awfully hard to please him. He is behaving like a pain in the arse. Grumpy. And aloof. He hasn't been mean, just grumpy. Ellie is a pup and Duke's an older fella. He's probably miffed that she got to the butter that was out on the counter before he could. Ahhhh. It's good to have two dogs again.

She has a sweet face with familiar markings like a brown muzzle, eyebrows and (partly speckled) bow tie. She shows some pretty good indoor manners (well, some.) Someone has trained her to fetch. She races to the door to say both goodbye and hello. How could someone just dump her? Can it be as simple as finding her useless because she is gun shy?

She stood in the car all the way home and was at times half in my lap as though she wanted to drive. Right now, she couldn't get much closer. I'm curled up on the sofa and she is draped across my feet (and I think they're going numb.) Sort of clingy.

Oh. Lucky me. It's "that time" of the year for her. Sheesh. I can't believe she isn't spayed. So tomorrow, we're off to the vet (I need a first or last appt--don't want my pooch getting jumped) to see just how she really is.

I haven't had the pleasure of hearing her bark yet. I'm told she sounds just like a hound. I have visions of the hounds in Cool Hand Luke. I hope so. I think I'll find it charming-unless she lets loose at 3 am.