The Best Dog
Eleven years ago when I saw a fat tiny puppy being given away in front of a grocery store, I never would have thought…
I remember when I got Luther thinking how weird it was to think that he’d probably be the dog that played with my kids. Kristin and I weren’t even dating yet, and kids weren’t even close to being on the radar.
I remember teaching him to understand what I was saying instead of ‘normal’ commands. Things like ‘get in the car’ and ‘go to bed’. He didn’t listen to anyone else, but he knew what I was saying.
I remember the open bag of dog food I left in the back of my car because we were always going some place and he needed snacks.
I remember taking him on a six mile backpacking trip and to the top of a mountain (in the rotating pictures above) where his feet got all cut up and I ended up carrying him six miles out of the woods.
Once Kristin and I were married, I remember him embracing his role of protector and literally grabbing Kristin’s pant leg with his teeth and pulling her from getting too close to the ocean in Northern California.
I remember taking him to the river and teaching him to jump off the fifteen-foot rocks into the water like we would do.
I remember his attitude change when we first brought Blue home from the hospital. Then I remember him coming around and rolling on the ground, licking Blue’s face. Then I remember bringing home another little boy for him to play with and run away from. And another.
I remember being out on a walk with him and watching him get hit by a car, flung into a yard only to get up and shake it off with no effects except a black tire mark all the way down his back.
I remember loading him up and driving across the country to live in a 700 square foot apartment with (then) four people and a cat. Then I remember moving again. I remember his favorite spot in all six houses he lived in.
I remember the days I was out on the road he’d sleep at the top of the stairs making sure he was the first line of defense for the family. And days I was home, he’d sleep on the floor next to my side of the bed and take the night off.
Yesterday we said goodbye to Luther. Quite literally the World’s best dog. Sure, he occasionally crapped on the floor. Sure he had days when his attitude was lousy. But there was no better, more loyal animal alive. When I got him, I had several dog experts tell me that because of his breed (German Shepherd / Akita) he could be a little mean. They also said that it was one of the most loyal, protective dogs that I could get. And that’s exactly what he was.
Now, I know some of you aren’t dog people and this isn’t that big of a deal, but when you share this many experiences with someone there is no doubt in my mind they are part of the family. And these memories are just a few. I couldn’t have asked for a better dog to have around my wife and kids. He will be missed for sure.
Pete And His Pit Bull-Tiger Dog
Picture this.
It’s a few years from now, Nashville has run out of gas again, but this time it’s worse. This time we officially have reached a “Mad Max” state and there’s a huge colony of us living in a deserted downtown area. Sort of like the second Matrix, but without the weird rave scene.
Pete Wilson is in charge and sends out a request for someone to go down the the basement level of a warehouse across town and kill our once pet, now a threat, tiger-dog. This tiger-dog is half golden retriever, half tiger, and according to Pete, a threat to our already fading society. Pete corners me and asks me to be the one to take the white fifteen-passenger van down into the lower level of the warehouse and “take care of” the tiger-dog. I reluctantly agree.
I find myself driving down into the basement level of this abandoned building and parking the van in an open space and start to look for this tiger-dog creature. All of the sudden a massive tiger shaped dog thing jumps at me and starts rubbing it’s face on my head the way cats do. Only this one has massive teeth rubbing right next to my face. This is the tiger-dog I am here to kill, but for some reason he’s being really nice. All of the sudden from nowhere a white, pitt bull-tiger come running out of the dark and slams into the side of the van. The golden retriever-tiger and I jump into the van and speed away.
Back on the street level I drive the van into the part of the city where our colony is living and everyone is scared because I have this tiger-dog with me and according to Pete, he’s still a threat. Pete walks up and tells me that I was supposed to take care of the tiger-dog and I tell him there’s another one down there. A white one that is more pitt bull looking.
“I know” Pete says, “That one was mine. I put him down there because he had a broken arm.”
Then I wake up to my alarm. What the crap?
