Fare well, old timer

The Harrover family has a tough history with dogs.  After Sarah and I were married we decided to get a black Labrador.  "Bruno".  Straight out of Bugs Bunny: "Bruno the Magnificent"….the dancing bear.  That dog was smart, smart, smart.  I trained him to understand hand signals!  After a couple of years we noticed that he seemed to have "spells" every now and then.  It was strange, it was like he would forget where he was, his legs were kinda rubbery but after a bit he was ok.  The vet could never really dope out what it was and it didn't happen all that often so we left it at that.  The next summer we went to Aruba for vacation (Sarah worked for the airlines then so it was affordable) and, well, you know where this is going.  After a couple of days in Aruba my buddy called and said that the dog had died.  I never really understood why (most times that ain't my job) but we cut our vacation short to come home.  At that point it was just Sarah and I so there wasn't really any "family" thing to be done however I am but a humble servant.

The second dog was "Terra".  Another black lab.  Dog wasn't as smart as the previous dog.  Not dumb, just not smart.  Seemed solid and was tons of fun to be around.  Handled kids well but contracted some crazy auto-immune deal where, best I can remember, her white blood cells were killing off her red blood cells.  I'll never forget arriving at the vets office and going to see Terra.  Her tongue was completely white.  We decided to transfuse the dog to give it another chance at survival.  That was no small deal as it cost a pretty penny.  The dog was dead 24 hours later.

Having had enough of spending $500 on dogs that weren't lasting but a couple of years Sarah went to Petco and adopted something called a "labradoodle".  She was very proud of her find.  She proclaimed that the hair on the dog was hypo-allergenic and that it would shed but a minimal amount.  She was half right: that dog shed enough to build another dog out of the hair.  If the dog wasn't shaved nearly bald or you didn't vacuum every other day, there were soon dog hair tumbleweeds going down our front hall.  Thinking ourselves very clever, we named him "doodles".

It was clear from the beginning that this was the wife's dog.  Doodles took to her in a way that he did nobody else and it stayed that way all the years of his life.  Doodles was a reasonably smart dog and learned how to work with people quite rapidly.  If little kids were pulling at his ears or playing about his face, he would lick them on the face to distract.  He was also quite sensitive: if there was arguing in the house, he would get into the middle of it.  He didn't like discord.  However, for all his hundred pounds, he was terrified of thunderstorms and loud noises.  He earned the nickname "Doodles Chickendog Harrover" for that bit.  He would shiver and

 pant so hard you thought he was going to pass out.  He also couldn't ride in the car for more than about 5 minutes before he barfed.  No, doodles was a home body.  When we traveled, we coordinated with neighbors and family to let him out.  He wouldn't eat at a kennel and rarely ate when the family was away on vacation.  He was healthy for about 10 years until he blew out both knees.  He would have been crippled for life and was too heavy to carry around so Sarah had his knees repaired.  I didn't know then and don't care to know now how much that cost but it gave him – and us – another 4 years of life together.  We did have to install a runner to help him with traction on the stairs but it seemed a small price to pay.

Doodles died on my wife's birthday.  We came home from a birthday dinner to find he had pooped on the floor.  A huge red flag.  That dog never had an accident since he was housebroken.  We shuffled him off to the back yard where he just stood listlessly.  Sarah immediately scooped him up and took him off to the vet (honestly, that dog had better health care than most people).  The prognosis was poor.  An ultrasound revealed he had some sort of mass in his abdomen and was losing blood through it.  He was literally bleeding out into his own belly.  The vet indicated that at his age it just wasn't likely that he would survive a surgery so we took the only option.  We met Doodles in one of the rooms that was a bit quieter than others and played with him for a bit.  It seemed surreal to me.  While he wasn't prancing around like a puppy he also didn't seem as though he was clinging to life.  We were going to put this animal down?  However, after his excitement of seeing us wore off, he lay down and you could tell he was putting on a brave face.  He wasn't feeling good at all.  He was in trouble and he knew it.  Once he lay down flat he really didn't move at all, even when the vet put in the IV.  Doodles passed quietly.  He was always a dignified animal and his passing was no different.

So, what's the best way to overcome the death of a beloved family pet?  Get another one.  I prevailed upon the family to wait some respectable amount of time but it wasn't a matter of days before I found a completed "adoption" application on my computer table.  After going through the adoption process it is clear to me that the folks who do the adoption stuff are very serious about it.  Indeed, it seems easier to adopt a human than a dog.  I do appreciate their efforts though.  It does bother me to think of all those animals who meet their fate in "shelters" nationwide. 

We now have a new puppy named "Dexter".  The name bothers me somewhat – too pop culture-ish but I never really thought I had a vote in any of this.  The "new dog" train was leaving the station whether I was on it or not.  Puppies are cute but they are also a pain in the neck.  Aside from the obvious problems, puppies don't know how to work with people.  They bite your ankles, step on your feet and are generally always in the way.  Our puppy is currently in the wild man phase.  He's a terror for about 30 minutes, running around, tearing everything up and chewing on anything he can find – after which he collapses and sleeps like the dead for an hour or so.  The worst part is the chewing and biting but that will pass.

For as much as I sometimes bitched about Doodles I miss the old man.  He was Mr. Dependable.  Rest in peace buddy.