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Some Golden Recognition
Our site was warmly recognized in 2003 by Outdoors Columnist, Les
Winkeler, the article provided below. Les joyfully spices up his
columns by comically detailing life with his Goldens Jack and Buck.
Wonderful
Web Site Devoted Entirely to Golden Retrievers By Les Winkeler, The Southern
Illinoisan.
February 13, 2003The e-mail from Rochelle Lesser came
out of the blue. Lesser, who created a web site devoted to golden retrievers, stumbled
onto last weeks column about my dogs playing in the snow. She asked if she could
place a link to the column on www.landofpuregold.com.
My intimate experience with golden retrievers only goes back 3½ years, but Im
hopelessly hooked. I couldnt wait to check out the web page. Frankly, it exceeded
all expectations.
G-d made dogs and then when he perfected them ... he created Goldens, Allen Schoen, veterinarian. That quote, found at the
bottom of one of the dozens of pages I visited, succinctly summarizes the web site.
I spent hours there. I didnt know whether to laugh or cry. So, I did both.
There are pages devoted to the care and nutrition of goldens. There are golden retriever
greeting cards; golden retriever e-cards; and stories extolling the virtues of goldens as
service dogs. There are wonderful pictures of goldens playing catch, swimming and sleeping
with kids. Want to take a fantastic photo? Just get a kid and a golden in the same frame.
This is all good, useful and entertaining, but this information is readily available in
bookstores or libraries.
The strength of the web site is the personal stories about living and deceased golden
retrievers. Reading these stories one really appreciates the bond that forms between these
wonderful dogs and their humans. Here are a few excepts:
Mom, I just had to let you know how GRR-eat it is here in heaven. Im not in pain anymore.
I was just sooo tired and didnt even want to sneak the last of Buddys food
anymore. — Barley |
That certainly paints a vivid picture for anyone who has ever tried to feed two goldens at
once.
Dear Molson,
We were your third home. It was hard to believe that anyone could ever part with you
because you were such a good dog. Sure, if there was a shoe around you brought it to us
whether we needed it or not. And, sometimes you forgot to return it where you found it so
we ended up searching upstairs for the shoe whose mate was downstairs. But hey, you meant
well, right? — Mom |
Since Jack learned to open closet doors, Im now short shoes, socks, boots and
possibly a 5-iron. If the bowling ball disappears, he may have to spend the night in the
pen.
He had been known as Monterey Jack,
Sausalito Jack and Burlingame Jack. But, the real reason he was named Jack was for Smiling
Jack, because smile he did. He was the most regal, majestic animal once could behold. He
could find any ball, anytime, anywhere. Once, when our son Marcus lost a new baseball in
the ivy bed next door, we simply told Jack to go find and within seconds the
ball was in his mouth. |
Other than the bowling ball, Jack and Buck are capable of retrieving anything that rolls.
My real problem is newspapers. Not mine, Jack brings
mine each morning. Its just
that insists I read the neighbors paper as well. Check out the web site. If you love goldens, youll be enthralled.
Les Winkeler is the outdoors writer for The
Southern Illinoisan. Contact him at les.winkeler@thesouthern.com
or call 618-529-5454 x15805. |
Feedback to Article: Both Touching and Sassy
I love visiting
your site and I very rarely leave with dry eyes. I do not mind the tears though, because
although some of the stories may make me feel sad in one sense, I also go away with warmth
in my heart that I know is due to the love of, and from, this wonderful breed. I really
should buy some stock in Kleenex!
— Sandy Clark
Congratulations
Rochelle! You deserve it! Keep up the great work. When I finally have a chance to update
my website, I will add a link! Blessings — Allen Schoen
Congratulations!! Getting your website publicly recognized in
an article is way overdue!! Your site is the first place I go to look for
answers to all of my golden questions. It is also where I go when I need a pick
up. It is such a happy place! —
Nora Anne DiLemmo
You probably are already
famous amongst Golden lovers! When I'm having a stressful day at work, a visit to your
site always calms me. It is almost as good as having my Gillette at my side. Thanks for
your hard work. —
Paula
You've always been famous in my
eyes sweetie! —
Mitch Kirby and the Canadian Crew of Fuzzbutts!
CONGRATULATIONS! You deserve all the kudos you get! You ARE becoming
famous!!
— Barb Justice
Rochelle, What a great and well deserved article! Your golden sight is
truly one of the best on the web and certainly the best golden sight I know.
Love & prayers
— Alice & Abel
WOO-HOO!! Famous at last! Well Done Rochelle!
— Your Golden Friends in Wales (and Graham Morgan)
Super article Rochelle, way to go! Personally, I think you arrived ages
ago. — Wendy Morrell (Dorset, England)
Congrats, Rochelle, on having this article written about your wonderful site
which we all love. You must be so thrilled, and deserve to be.
— Pat Allen
Well, congratulations are definitely in order...although I dare say you
have been famous with your own Goldens since they first met you.
— Mary Jane Rizella
WOW!! How nice. Yes a wonderful Valentine present for sure. Your site
is a wonderful place to spend many hours looking and reading.
— Gay Eberly
Some Golden Fun from Les Winkeler
back
Although articles are offered only briefly before
requiring payment, we've been allowed to reprint
them here for all to enjoy!
Theres Really No Way to Fight a Case of
Puppy Love July 26, 2002 There are several conclusions I can
draw from events of the past week, none of them good. The conclusions are actually
irrelevant. The bottom line is the Winkelers are now a two golden retriever household.
The whole sordid tale began eight weeks ago when co-conspirator Cyril Bowlin called. He
said his golden retriever, Max, had another litter of puppies. Max is the mother of Buck,
my three-year-old golden. As fate would have it, we were in the Bowlins neighborhood
about a month later. We stopped by the house to ogle and fawn over the puppies. At that
time, there was no mention of expanding our canine collection.
However, my wife mentioned the puppies to her sister. Sometime during the intervening
month, her sister decided that a golden retriever would be a perfect retirement present to
herself. My role in all this was to call Bowlin and reserve a puppy for my sister-in-law.
My wife, daughter, brother- and sister-in-law piled into our van for the ride to
Bowlins house. The mood in the van turned ominous when my wife suggested we might
also want to take a puppy home. This is where I should have turned back, or at least
bailed out of the van.
For the record, I love Buck. I spend hours playing with him in the yard. He spends hours
tooling around town in the passenger seat of my pickup truck. Buck fetches The Southern
off the yard each morning. On the other hand, Buck loses hair at a faster rate than I do.
Vacuuming is no longer a household chore. Its an avocation.
The puppies were romping in the front yard when we arrived. Granted, the little fur balls
were cute. They would have been irresistible if I had been looking for a pet. My wife and
daughter turned up the adoption pressure exponentially once they saw the puppies.
Theyre so cute, my wife,
Judy, said. Buck needs a buddy, my
daughter, Erin, said. Baloney, I said.
At this point, I actually thought I was in control of the situation. Im 47 years
old. Ive been married 26 years. I should have known better. Erin pointed out we
could call the little guy Jack. When you call them you can say, Hey, Jack,
Buck! she said. That was clearly unfair, playing on my loyalty
to the Cardinals. Then my wife pulled out the heavy artillery.
She pointed out that Buck came into our lives three years ago when Jennifer left for Ohio
State. She further noted that Erin is leaving for St. Louis College of Pharmacy next
month. Ill need something to fill the void, she said. Silly me I thought that would be my job.
At this point, it was obvious I was fighting a losing battle. There was no point
continuing. I drove home, wondering how all this happened to me. I reached two
conclusions. First, my wife isnt coping well with the prospect of empty nest
syndrome. The second conclusion Thank G-d I only had two kids.
TOP
Dog Training Just Takes a Little Time and
Patience September 20, 2002 It was one of lifes dreaded
moments. I found myself sitting on the kitchen floor, looking into the Jacks eyes.
Jack, my four-month-old golden retriever pup, stared at me earnestly. His little black
eyes oozed sincerity. His tiny pink tongue, dancing in and out of his mouth virtually
screamed, Pick me up and hug me.
It should have been a touchy-feely moment. But, it just didnt feel right. Frankly, I
was worried. I was afraid I had assumed ownership of a stupid dog.
Looking through the rose-colored glasses of hindsight, I remembered Bucks perfect
puppyhood just three years ago. My mind rolled back the years to that summer night we
brought Buck into our house for the first time. The little fur-ball bounded happily into
the front door, affectionately licking our hands and faces.
Sit, I said. Instinctively, Buck sat down. I patted his fuzzy
head appreciatively. Shake, I said.
Buck turned his head from side-to-side momentarily, then timidly lifted his right paw.
Good boy! I said
enthusiastically.
The sensation of Jack licking my hand brought me out of my daydream and back to the
reality of puppy training. I looked at Jack, shook my head and muttered to myself,
How can such a cute dog be so stupid?
We had no idea how to train a dog when we adopted Buck three years ago. However, we knew
that a 90-pound house dog required training. We engaged a tutor to help us teach Buck the
basics. His methods worked well. We worked with Buck several minutes a day. Within a week,
Buck was responding to the basic commands.
Jack joined our family in mid-June. We allowed Jack a couple of days to get assimilated
into the Winkeler household routine. His formal training program began within a week. Ten
days into training, Jack seemed oblivious to our efforts. Id give him the sit
command. Jack would stare at me, bound forward and grab my shoestrings and pull. He
wasnt learning anything, and apparently had no interest in learning anything.
I was walking through the house several days into training when Jack ran by, a cat hot on
his heels. I grabbed him, saving him from multiple lacerations, and carried him to the
living room. I took him to a neutral corner and half-heartedly gave the command to sit.
Jack looked at me for an instant, then plopped down on his tush. Anxious to see if his
response was a coincidence, I called Jack to me. He trotted to my side and again sat on
command.
I called my wife excitedly, gleefully proclaiming our puppys brilliance.
Unfortunately, the breakthrough was temporary. The puppy savant myth was shattered that
evening when I attempted to put Jack through his paces. He stared at me blankly each time
I gave a command. Which brings us to that moment of near despair on the kitchen floor.
I went to bed that evening, thinking my dog needed remedial training. The alarm went off
the next morning. I pulled myself out of bed and took the dogs outside with a sense of
foreboding. On a whim, I gave Jack the command to sit. Immediately, he plopped down. I
wasnt impressed. I felt he was just trying to placate me.
However, he complied with every subsequent command. I hollered for my wife to come
outside. Jack did as he was told each time. The proud parents stared at each other for a
few seconds, then unashamedly cried tears of joy. Our son isnt stupid!
TOP At Least the Dogs Enjoy the Cold and the Snow
February 6, 2003 To paraphrase W.C. Fields epitaph,
on the whole, Id rather it be summer. Winter does offer a few charms. There is the
opening day of duck season. Then, theres, well, theres the rest of duck
season. For someone who dislikes cold and hates snow, the long dark months from October to
April seem interminable.
A couple weeks ago, I woke up to find the world blanketed in snow. I hate to wake up
cursing, but in this instance it seemed appropriate. It didnt help matters that
Buck, my 3-year-old golden retriever, was impatiently clawing at my arm. He had heard the
alarm clock and was anxious for his morning walk. Giving in to the inevitable, I
reluctantly pushed myself out of bed. Bucks not-so-gentle nudges complicated the
normally mundane task of getting dressed.
I heard Jack, my golden retriever puppy, howling when I walked into the hall. Jacks
penchant for devouring furniture, or anything not constructed of stainless steel,
necessitates him sleeping in a crate. Jack had heard the commotion on the opposite end of
the house and was making it abundantly clear he wanted to get up.
Buck followed me into Jacks room as he always does I suspect he
somehow mocks Jack for being confined to the crate. Jack bolted from the crate the instant
I opened the door. He knows the daily routine. Jack sprinted across the carpet to the
door. Knowing that hitting the concrete breezeway floor at full speed is potentially
fatal, Jack down-shifted to make a hard right.
A piece of old carpet Jack had chewed up the previous evening sat in his path. Jack deftly
snatched it in his teeth without breaking stride, then continued to the front door. Buck,
unfettered by distractions, was already sitting at the door. Jack took his normal place
behind Buck the golden retriever version of the I-formation if you will.
I gave the command for both dogs to sit. Buck immediately complied. Jack, being either
stupid or an independent thinker, required a separate invitation. Buck issued a scolding
bark, but it took Jack about a minute to comply. Finally, I looked out the door to make
sure no one was walking the dog through the neighborhood. The sight of two golden
retrievers charging out the door can be unnerving to an unsuspecting Yorkie. Frankly, it
also tends to raise the dog owners blood pressure.
Satisfied that all was safe, I told the dogs to go outside. You really have to be there to
appreciate the spectacle of these dogs heading out the door. Imagine sprinters coming out
of the blocks in the 100-meter dash. Imagine a pair of dragsters roaring from the starting
line. Jack normally bolts toward the door, veers to the right and picks one of the
newspapers off the lawn. True to form, he leaped off the porch. However, he got about two
or three steps into the yard when he realized something was different. SNOW!
He skidded to a stop, burying his
nose in the white fluffy stuff. Jack looked at me quizzically, then made a couple loping
circles, scooping up snow with his tongue at the same time. His prancing, leaping gait
virtually screamed, I love this stuff. He continued to play, frequently looking up at me with a
snow-covered muzzle. I couldnt help myself. I did something I rarely do when out in
the snow. I smiled.
TOP The Realization that My Dogs are Extremely Spoiled
March 6, 2003 There
is no question my dogs are spoiled. Things occasionally happen around the house that cause
me to shake my head. However, I didn't realize just how pampered my canines were until my
wife read the results of a survey conducted by the American Animal Hospital Association. I
was thoroughly embarrassed by the time she finished reading.
The survey said 97 percent of pet owners said their critters make them smile at least once
a day. Guilty. My dogs make me smile at least once a day. On the other hand, Jack has
chewed up a pair of my wife's boots, a pair of my shoes and a couch in the past month. The
curses have almost canceled out the smiles, so I'll score this one a dead heat.
65 percent of pet owners believe their pet improves their own mental health. Now, that's a
loaded question. Sixty-five percent of the people who know me would probably question my
mental health. They would probably also testify that my dogs are on more firm mental
ground than I am.
63 percent of pet owners celebrate their pet's birthday. Forty-three percent of those
admit to giving their pets a wrapped gift. Geez, that adds up to 106 percent for me. On
the other hand, I have never sent a birthday card to either of my dogs. I wouldn't lie
about a thing like that.
Conversely, 73 percent of pet owners admit to receiving a card signed by their dogs. It
really is painful to admit to these things. My question is, how many of the 73 percent who
received signed cards from their pets also feel their pets improve their mental health?
64 percent of pet owners hang a Christmas stocking for their pets. Guilty. But, it makes
for such a cute picture when they pose in front of the fireplace.
43 percent of pet owners have taken their pets to work. Aha, finally I find a category
that doesn't apply to me. Actually, I have taken Buck along to work on occasion, just
never to the office. Well, I have taken him to the office, but never when anyone else was
there.
46 percent of pet owners say they plan most of their free time around their pets. I can
honestly say that's not true of me. Now, if I had any free time ...
52 percent of respondents have admitted cooking for their pets. I have never done that
my wife does all the cooking for them. I have, on occasion, stolen some of the bacon
destined for their plates.
Finally, almost 50 percent of pet owners have more pictures of their pets than they do of
their children. If we're talking recent pictures, I'll plead guilty. I'll even admit to
having pictures of my pets on my desk and on my computer. However, I also have pictures of
my daughters on my desk. I don't have any pictures of the dogs in my wallet. That only
seems fair they never ask for money.
TOP
My Dogs are Great, but Radically Different September 18, 2003
Technically, my wife and I should be
feeling the effects of empty nest syndrome. Fortunately, we've coped quite well. Sure,
there are photographs of our children throughout the house, and their weekly phone calls
help us stay in touch. However, the presence of Jack and Buck, our golden retrievers has
been a mitigating factor.
The dogs have changed our lives.
If it weren't for these canines, there is a chance our house would be clean and my yard
wouldn't resemble a mine field. There's a possibility that we would have some order in our
lives. And, we could actually take spur of the moment weekend trips.
On the other hand, there are some benefits, both physical and mental. The dogs make me
laugh ― sometimes in spite of myself. Like my kids, their personalities are radically
different.
Buck is 4 years old. Except for shedding incessantly, Buck is the perfect dog.
When I feed the dogs in the morning, Jack is like a hog at the trough. It's not unusual
for me to have to pour food down his muzzle. On the other hand, Buck waits patiently about
15 feet away. After I fill his bowl, he'll look to me to for approval before walking to
his dish. There's never been a more polite dog.
I spend most of my evening hours on the couch, reading or watching television. Typically,
Buck will saunter to the couch. He'll place his muzzle on my thigh. The look in those big
brown eyes make it virtually impossible to ignore him.
Generally speaking, Buck is low maintenance. I'll scratch his ears for a bit. When he's
satisfied, he'll slide down to the floor. I'll forget he's there until he starts snoring.
Unfortunately, that was the best-case scenario.
Jack is just 1, but insanely jealous ― in other words, a typical golden retriever. If
Buck is getting attention, Jack literally bolts into action. He'll sprint across the
hardwood floor, slam on the brakes and slide into Buck. Although it sounds harsh, Jack's
actions are well-calculated. The collision is just severe enough to push Buck out of the
way.
At this point, it's a mistake to assume Jack is asking for affection. He's demanding it.
I've tried to ignore Jack by reaching over his head to pet Buck. It doesn't work. He
pushes your hand away from Buck's head with his muzzle. Jack won't quit until he's
satisfied he's received equal affection.
It's also been curious to watch the dogs become creatures of habit. Because Jack is less
sedate, I normally lead him on our morning walks while my wife leads Buck.
We've worked out a daily routine. I let both dogs out early. Buck is content to lope
around the yard while Jack wants to play Frisbee. Generally, we'll play until my wife
appears on the yard, carrying the leashes. Seeing the leashes, Buck gravitates toward my
wife while Jack heads in my direction.
For some reason, they broke with tradition Monday morning and I walked Buck. I couldn't
believe the difference. Walking Buck was like riding in a Cadillac. I'm not sure whether
that's a function of age or temperament. For my shoulder's sake, I'm hoping its the
former.
TOP This Day Definitely Goes to the Squirrel November 13, 2003
When it happened, I had a good laugh.
It never dawned on me that the moment would stick with me for weeks. It was all so
unexpected.
My wife and I were walking Jack and Buck, our golden retrievers, one bright morning a
couple of weeks ago. It had been an enjoyable morning. The air was brisk and refreshing,
the conversation lively ― and the dogs had been on their best behavior.
We were only a couple hundred yards from our front door when my wife began to speak. I
have no idea what she was planning to say. Only the first syllable came out of her mouth
when I heard, "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
Things began happening rapidly at this point.
Apparently, I had been looking away. By the time I turned my head toward the sound, I saw
Buck dragging my wife toward a power pole. Before I could determine the cause of the
emergency, Jack broke into a dead run toward the pole.
Somewhere in that isolated millisecond, a mental disconnect occurred.
In this state of suspended animation, I didn't process a bit of information that should
have been readily apparent. Specifically, when Jack hit the end of the leash, I was going
to get quite a jolt.
Incredibly, the sudden jolt to my left shoulder came as quite a surprise. I felt like a
cartoon figure, rushing in one direction while the blurred image of my face still occupied
the area just vacated.
Had I been better prepared, I may have been able to set my feet and ski across the loose
gravel. Instead, Jack's momentum sent me lunging awkwardly down the street.
Fortunately, it was a short sprint. The dogs went no further than the utility pole.
As soon as the world came back into focus, I discovered the source of the dogs' ire. A
tiny gray squirrel sprinted upwards at a 90-degree angle to escape harassment at the paws
of two golden retrievers.
I'm not sure I've ever seen a squirrel move with such urgency. The little rodent had a
panicked look about him. You could almost smell fear in the air.
The dogs continued barking and clawing at the pole after the squirrel was well out of
harm's way.
Although well out of reach, the squirrel twitched nervously. Despite our best efforts to
subdue the dogs, the squirrel was obviously weighing his options.
Suddenly, the squirrel froze. It might have been an instant of recognition. His brief
nut-hoarding, bird feeder-robbing life might have flashed before him. It doesn't matter,
he decided to act.
As I was watching, the squirrel leapt from the pole. For an instant, I thought it might be
a flying squirrel. Unfortunately for the little critter, he looked more like a junior high
science project detailing the effects of gravity.
The squirrel hit the street just 15 feet from me
― absorbing an asphalt belly flop from a
height of 20 feet. I swear I even saw his chin bounce off the pavement.
He laid there stunned for an instant. I swear the squirrel looked at me, shook his head to
clear the cobwebs, then bolted into the safety of a nearby bush.
In the meantime, the dogs stared blankly at the top of the pole. I stood there with my
mouth agape, wondering if I could believe my eyes.
Immediately, I heard the Rocky and Bullwinkle narrator proclaiming, "Tune in next
week for our next episode, Silence is Golden, or Never Fly Without a Chute."
TOP There's Nothing Like the Relationship Between a Man and his Dog December 4, 2003
For some reason Buck, our 4-year-old
golden retriever, lingered in the yard following our morning walk Monday.
Jack, probably anxious for a drink of water, bolted into the house immediately when my
wife opened the door. Buck, seeing me walk toward my pickup, trotted toward me and stood
at the door.
"You gonna take him with you?" my wife asked.
Buck used to be a fixture in my pickup. Anytime there was an errand to be run, Buck would
accompany me.
He's great company.
Buck doesn't ask to stop at Dairy Queen. He doesn't care what kind of music is on the
radio. He's never on my case for driving too fast.
Normally, Buck just sits in the front seat, taking in the scenery. He normally never
moves, unless a squirrel bolts across the roadway or we pass someone walking their dog.
However, our truck rides together ended a little over a year ago when Jack joined our
family.
Jack, being a typical golden, is insanely jealous of Buck. If Buck gets a ride in the
pickup, Jack feels slighted. He'd cry and pout for hours if he saw Buck hop in the pickup.
Initially, I figured I'd let them both ride with me.
It didn't take long to figure out that was a bad idea. Unfortunately, the solution was to
make both dogs stay home.
That changed Monday when Buck and I found ourselves alone in the yard.
He immediately hopped in the passenger's seat when I opened the door. Buck cast a glance
at me as we backed out of the driveway as if to say, "Man, it's been too long."
I reached over to scratch his ears. Buck responded by placing his paw on my forearm. There
was something undeniably comfortable about having him in the truck with me.
Then, I noticed something else ― people are friendlier when you have a dog.
It's really painfully obvious.
People walking down the street break into the smile at the sight of an 85-pound dog riding
in a pickup. Drivers you meet are more apt to wave, or at least point at your passenger.
And, there's no doubt a dog is a conversation starter.
When I stopped at a convenience store for my early morning caffeine fix Monday, Buck sat
in the front seat, watching people walk in and out. People, who otherwise might or might
not acknowledge your presence, stop to comment or ask about the dog.
People find it particularly irresistible if Buck slides into the drivers seat and sits
behind the wheel. Actually, he's probably big enough to drive.
Then, on the way home, I realized I don't drive as fast when Buck is in the vehicle with
me. His presence is just comforting.
Besides, he usually does something to make me laugh. Monday was no exception.
We got about a block from home, when he noticed a man walking a black lab down the street.
Buck turned and watched the man and his dog as we drove by.
Then, I laughed out loud, as recognition flashed across Buck's face as we turned onto our
street. It was obvious he knew we were home.
When I opened the door, he trotted down the sidewalk and waited for me at the front door.
There's no doubt ― life's simple pleasures are the best.
TOP Everytime and Everywhere, It's Always about the Dogs July 8, 2004
Enough already! I know my dogs, a nearly
matched pair of golden retrievers (Jack and Buck) are gorgeous. How could I help but know
it ― I hear it every morning.
We obtained Buck about five years ago from good friend Cyril Bowlin.
Buck was a surprise addition to the Winkeler household. Just a few weeks prior to Buck
entering our lives, I threatened to move out if another critter moved in.
That was before I saw Buck and seven of his siblings rolling around Bowlin's living room
floor prior to an early morning fishing excursion.
I couldn't get the sight of that little furball out of my mind. After three days, I broke
down, faced reality and accepted the fact that I wanted another dog.
At the risk of revealing too much of my damaged psyche, I have to confess that bringing
Buck home required some rationalization. His purpose would be two-fold.
First, my wife and I were facing the prospect of semi-empty nest syndrome. Our oldest
daughter, Jennifer, was about to move out of the house to matriculate at Ohio State.
We felt something was needed to fill the void.
Secondly, we were trying, unsuccessfully at the time, to adhere to an exercise regimen. We
assumed, correctly, that having a big dog sharing our home would require daily walks.
Three years later, Buck's mother, Max, had another litter. I made the mistake of allowing
my wife and youngest daughter to see the puppies.
My wife convinced me that since our youngest, Erin, would soon be leaving for college, we
needed another dog to fill the void. I held out bravely for about 30 minutes before
relenting.
We now live with nearly 190 pounds of golden retriever bounding around the house.
Yes, we are still adhering to that exercise regimen. We walk both dogs daily.
However, judging from my expanding waist line, we may need another half-dozen dogs.
Each morning we walk the beginning stages of the Tunnel Hill State Trail. The dogs could
probably navigate the trail by themselves. They're familiar with every tree, blade of
grass and they recognize most of the regular walkers.
During the course of our morning walk, we'll meet several other walkers or bikers.
Invariably, the people we meet will nod politely at us, and stare at the dogs for a few
seconds.
"Pretty dogs," they'll say.
At first, I was flattered.
"Yeah, they are sharp," I thought.
Now, I'm getting jealous.
You'd think sometime, somebody would say, "Hey, you're looking good," or even,
"Nice to see you again."
No! It's ALWAYS about the dogs.
It's not just me either ― my wife has noticed it too.
I'm getting an inferiority complex here. And, apparently, I have plenty to feel inferior
about.
If I were a vindictive person, I'd just refuse to walk the dogs. I'd let them lounge
around the house and become overweight.
But, I just can't do that.
They have us too-well trained.
TOP This Dog just Wanted to have his Day — Quietly January 21, 2005
There are some moments you
just have to savor.
As usual, I was running late for work one day earlier this week. I had been
goofing off on the computer and time slipped away from me.
After rushing through the shower and trying to find keys, pens and
notebooks, I noticed something was amiss in the living room. Although I was
home alone, someone appeared to be sleeping on my couch. Closer inspection
revealed Buck, my 5-year-old golden retriever, taking a nap on the couch.
Although the furniture is technically off limits ― the dogs wait until we
leave or go to bed before grabbing the couch ― this was different. Normally,
when we find the dogs perched on the couch, they'll be sporting a guilty
look with their chin on their paws. Not this time. Buck apparently believed
I was gone for the day. He was sacked out.
I'm not sure I'd ever seen a dog assume this position. There were pillows
piled against the arm of the couch. Buck was lying on his back, his head
resting on the pillows. Both front and back paws were stretched out. I'm not
sure I've ever seen a dog look so comfortable. In fact, I'm not sure I've
ever been that comfortable.
There was a part of me that said ignore the dog and let him nap. On the
other hand, the responsible parent in me said, "Maintain control of the
situation."
Now, the question was, how do I react. I knew a loud scream would send Buck
sprawling. However, considering the position he had assumed, I was afraid
he'd hurt his back. Instead, I opted for a "HEY" in reasonable tone and
volume.
Buck's reaction was funnier than anything I could imagine. He snapped his
head up, looking at me through his outstretched front paws. Buck has the
most expressive face and eyes of any dog I've ever seen. I had never seen
precisely this look before, but it was apparent what was going through his mind
― "Busted."
Although I was home by myself with no one to share the moment, I laughed out
loud. Buck sheepishly crawled off the couch and curled up on the floor. The
darting looks he tossed my way told me he wasn't happy about being rousted,
or by the fact I found the situation so humorous. He looked so pathetic, I
was actually feeling guilty.
I was about to walk out the door when I realized the dryer was running. Upon
checking the laundry, I discovered the dogs' blanket inside the dryer. (Buck
had spilled orange juice, my daughter's, not his, on the blanket the night
before.)
Grabbing the nice warm blanket, I walked back in the living room, finding
Buck in the same spot. He shot me a few sullen glances as I walked toward
him with the blanket. The look turned to suspicion as I placed the blanket
over him.
His eyes closed slowly as the heat transferred to his body. I swear I heard
a sigh of contentment. And, the sullen look turned into, "You aren't as bad
as I thought."
You know, that simple moment made my day. You know, it didn't even bother me
I got to work a few minutes late.
TOP
I
Need to Get Out in a Boat or on the Golf Course March 11, 2005
Streams of unconsciousness from the world
of the outdoors: * I'm getting antsy.
People are telling me about the crappie they're catching. In the meantime,
basketball is still occupying my time. I need to get out in a boat, and I need to do it quickly. On the other hand, hitting the golf
course sounds like a good idea as well.
* There ought to be an admission charge for driving Illinois 13 from the
Williamson County line to Harrisburg. The opportunity for viewing wildlife in that eight-mile stretch is at least as good as some of the
wildlife refuges I've visited.
One night last week, just before dusk, there were groups of deer standing in
virtually every field. Conservatively, I counted over 100 deer. Of course, the same route isn't as attractive after dark when the deer
suddenly appear in your headlights.
Wildlife viewing isn't limited to deer. It's not unusual to see large flocks
of turkey early in the morning. Coyotes are a common sight as are Canada
geese, various species of ducks and, of course, coots. Finally, there
probably isn't a better stretch of road in Southern Illinois to see
red-tailed hawks.
* Got an interesting e-mail from a reader this week regarding Southern
Illinois' litter problem. Before you toss that bottle or can out of the window, consider it takes 2-5
months for paper to decompose. It takes five years for milk cartons, 10-12
years for filter tip cigarettes. Plastic bags tossed out the window will
still be defiling the environment 10-20 years later. And, those disposable
diapers that frequently foul department store parking lots ― they take 75
years to decompose. Those plastic soda bottles, they'll last 50-80 years.
The venerable tin hangs around for 100 years, while the ever-popular
aluminum can had a life of 200-500 years. Styrofoam? Like a roach, this
substance seems to be indestructible. Bottom line ― don't toss your trash
along the roadways.
* If you don't have golden retrievers, you probably don't notice.
However, virtually any time you see a dog on a television commercial or in a
print ad, it's a golden.
We're thinking of sending Jack and Buck to modeling school. Who knows? They
may soon be earning their keep.
* It's a coincidence, but it is one of those things "That make you go, hmmmm."
In the past three months, I've written a number of columns ripping the
Illinois Department of Natural Resources, and this is the first year I
didn't get the turkey permit I ordered. You don't think? Nah, it is just
coincidence.
Is there a more enjoyable outdoors pursuit than spending a morning in the
turkey woods? And, if you actually see a turkey ...
* My favorite time of year is just a few weeks away. I absolutely love it trees are clothed in the soft green color of emergent
leaves. If you're looking for some place to enjoy the splendor of Southern
Illinois in the spring, take the short hike to the Heron Pond boardwalk.
It's fantastic any time of the year, but it's truly one of my favorite spots
in the spring. There's nothing prettier than watching the bright yellow
prothonatory warblers flitting from cypress tree to cypress tree.
TOP I've Watched my Daughter's Pup Mature over the Past Few
Months March 10, 2006
With our
home in a perpetual state of remodeling, things turn up
in the strangest places. Inexplicably, I unearthed a
couple Christmas photos when I grabbed a Newsweek from
the counter last week. One of the photos showed my
daughter’s golden retriever puppy, Joe, sprawled
underneath the Christmas tree. Joe was two months old on
Christmas day. Amazingly, he still looked like a puppy
in those days. He was cute, cuddly and could be carried
like a football.
Less than two months later, Joe is still cute and
cuddly, but don’t think about carrying him like a
football. In fact, if you don’t have a strong back,
don’t think about picking him up at all. Quickly, Joe is
leaving puppydom behind, running headlong into
retrieverhood.
During the past few months, Joe has gone through various
phases. For a while, his head was way too large for his
skinny body. Then, his chest began filling out, but his
legs lagged behind. He looked like a hairy dachshund on
stilts. Then, his legs went on a wild grown spurt,
turning his confident gait into a gangly, awkward amble.
Now, as he approaches five months, his proportions are
nearly aligned. However,
one thing has remained constant. This dog has huge paws.
The size of his paws brings me pause. How big is this
dog going to get? On the other hand, he’ll be going to
live with my daughter in a couple months, so why should
I worry?
While Joe has gone through cartoonish stages in the past
few weeks, his personality is becoming more pronounced
every day. Like all goldens, Joe has a stubborn streak.
Oh, he’ll sit, lie down or shake on command ― as long as
you’re not a stickler about immediacy. As far as he’s
concerned, what’s the hurry, he’ll get to it.
Currently, he’s in the oral stage of development. He has
yet to see a stick that doesn’t need to be carried, a
toy, rug, or sock that doesn’t need to be chewed. And,
I’ve recently noted the proud gait he assumes when
carrying a stick on our morning walks. Joe holds his
head high, carries his tail straight and has a trot
similar to a Clydesdale.
Proud grandfather that I am, I think he is a handsome
dog.
Finally, golden retriever that he is, Joe has a
mischievous side. We have three goldens, temporarily, in
our house. The pecking order is well-established. Jack
is the alpha dog ― just ask him.
It kills Jack to see any of the other dogs with a toy or
stick if he doesn’t have one. Joe is well aware of that
fact and spends a good deal of his time taunting his
father. Eventually, it catches up to him ― Jack will
snatch the stick from his mouth. That doesn’t bother
Joe; there are plenty of sticks along the bike path.
Yes, it will be sad to see Joe leave in a couple of
months. On the other hand, his departure will restore a
sense of equilibrium to Jack and Buck’s lives ― not to
mention sanity to mine.
TOP
Saying Goodbye to Daughter's Puppy
was Difficult, but I'll Get Over It June 2, 2006
It was as
if the entire house breathed a sigh of relief. I was
sitting at my computer Tuesday morning when I noticed. I
looked around the room. Although nothing appeared to be
different, there was a certain air of calm.
My youngest daughter had been home for Memorial Day
weekend. I knew she planned on leaving Tuesday, but I
couldn't believe she would have left without saying bye.
Looking out the front door, I could see she was packing
her car.
At that moment, the source of the aura of calmness
dawned on me ― Erin was taking her puppy home with her.
At least, that was the plan. Looking around frantically,
I didn't see the dog. Surely, she wasn't forgetting.
Certainly, he wasn't hiding. "You are taking Joe with you?" I yelled through the
front door.
Joe, a seven-month-old golden retriever puppy, was
playing in the driveway. At the mention of his name, he
stopped what he was doing and perked up his ears.
When she told me that, yes, this was Joe's moving day; I
breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. I harbor no hard
feelings toward Joe. He's smart. He'll make a great dog
some day. On the other hand, this "puppy" is a veritable
man-child at a hulking 75 pounds. And, if Joe were the
only dog in the house, his typical puppy behavior
wouldn't be as disruptive.
However, for the past seven months, Joe has been sharing
our home with his father, Jack, and his uncle Buck. Jack
and Buck celebrated birthdays this week ― Jack turned
four and Buck is eight.
Despite their size, Jack and Buck have gracefully aged
into household pets. Their daily routine includes a
30-45 minute walk in the morning, a couple or three
trips outside each day to, er, stretch, and keeping us
company. When we watch television or read in the
evenings, Jack or Buck will amble over to us, lay their
heads on our lap and ask for a few seconds of affection.
Normally, after scratching behind their ears for a
minute or two they'll slump down to the floor and sleep
contentedly.
Joe changed all that.
TOP
Mischievous
Dogs Make for an Action-Packed Weekend September 29, 2006
Mischievous dogs make for an action-packed weekend. "Dog
days" took on an entirely new meaning Saturday. The day
got off to a miserable start, I'm guessing somewhere in
the neighborhood of 3 a.m.
I was startled from a sound sleep by a strange buzzing
noise. Upon opening my eyes, I noticed an eerie flashing
light coming through both bedroom windows. Even in this
state of semi-consciousness, I recognized the sight and
sound of arcing electricity. About the time I hopped out
of bed to investigate, the buzzing, flashing and arcing
stopped.
Emergency averted ― I crawled back in bed and slept
soundly until my golden retrievers awakened me at about
7:30 a.m. Vaguely remembering the events of the previous
night, I came to the realization we were still without
electricity. I stumbled about in the semi-darkness,
feeding the cats and dogs.
In the meantime, I realized the unusual late summer
downpour had continued through the night. My front yard
appeared to be a promising home for mallards and wood
ducks. Figuring the dogs could get into little mischief
in these conditions, I opened the front door and let
them out into the yard. Things appeared to be working
out well, by the time I found shoes and rain gear, the
dogs would have concluded their business and would be
ready to come back inside.
I was partially right. When I got back to the porch, I
found Jack eyeing the front door nervously. Water was
rolling off his ears and nose ― he was virtually begging
to be toweled off.
Buck, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen. In his
nine years in our home, Buck has taken 3 to 4, to quote
Crocodile Dundee, walkabouts. The pattern has been
consistent, the walkabouts occur in the most miserable
weather conditions.
Cursing fate, I hopped into the van. A creature of
habit, Buck usually haunts the same places. Sure enough,
20 to 30 minutes later, there he was, bounding happily
across an alley. The instant I screamed his name, he
dropped his head. He knew he was busted. When I opened
the door, he immediately went to the rear of the van and
hid his head.
Not a good way to start the day, but the dogs were just
getting warmed up.
Another golden retriever owner had called earlier in the
week. He was interested in having his female bred with
Jack. A conjugal visit had previously been arranged for
Saturday afternoon. Apparently, the visit went well for
Jack, but Buck's bad day continued.
Upset with the day's events, and obviously overcome by
ardor, Buck jumped through a kitchen window. Thankfully,
the glass was up, but he took the screen with him.
Not content to let Buck wallow in bad behavior, Jack got
in the act later that night. My wife backed a batch of
brownies and placed them in the middle of the kitchen
counter to cool. Somehow, sometime in the middle of the
night, Jack managed to knock the brownies off the
counter. He ate the whole thing! Chocolate is not good
for dogs. The repercussions were not pretty.
Please, someone, anyone, remind me how adorable goldens
are!
TOP
Nothing quite Rivals the Joy a Big Dog Brings
January 19, 2007
The equilibrium of our home was disrupted momentarily
this weekend when our youngest daughter brought her "puppy"
home for a few days. Joe is just over a year old and weighs
84 pounds. Although he has an adult body, Joe is still very
much a puppy. He bounds around the house, blissfully aware
of the fact that he is rattling dishes in the cabinets and
vibrating nails out of the rafters. Yet, given his
exuberance, it all seems worthwhile ― even if his bulk can
be overwhelming at times.
But, the truly interesting thing is how his presence affects
the behavior of his dad, Jack, and, his uncle Buck. (We
didn't realize until a couple months after the fact that we
did, indeed have an Uncle Buck. But, that's another story.)
Around our house, Jack is the Alpha dog. Jack gets fed first
― not exactly by design ― no one can beat him to the food
bowl. He eats fast ― just in case something might be left in
Buck's bowl when Jack is finished.
Buck, in the meantime, is laid back. He patiently bides his
time, waiting for Jack to choose a bowl. It's really
remarkable to see how patient Buck can be. Through the
years, Buck has gained an understanding of the system. He
understands Jack is a greedy, selfish jerk, but he's fine
with it. Buck knows we'll take care of him and he won't go
hungry.
Joe on the other hand, doesn't understand the system, nor
does he care. He approaches feeding time like a Roger
Clemens fastball boring down at home plate. If he smells
food, don't ask questions, just stand to the side.
Joe also doesn't understand sleeping arrangements.
Jack pretty much gets his pick of pillows. It made for some
interesting posturing.
But, what Joe really doesn't get is that Jack, first and
foremost, demands all the attention. If someone dares pet
Buck, Jack is jolly on the spot, nudging Buck ― and any
furniture that might be around ― aside.
Which led to this interesting scene, my daughter is sitting
on the edge of the couch, petting Jack and Buck. Obviously
disappointed he wasn't the center of attention, Joe began
whining incessantly. That's when I decided to insert myself
in the fray. I dropped to my knees and rolled Joe over on
the floor, waiting to see what his reaction would be.
Jack thought it was fine ― that left him free to soak up all
Erin's attention.
In the meantime, Uncle Buck sprang to the rescue. He jumped
on me from behind, grabbing my sweatshirt and pants legs ―
nipping body parts in the process. It wasn't the reaction I
expected.
In the meantime, it reinforced something I already knew. I
love big dogs.
TOP
Extra Dog Means Extra Obstacle Around the House
August 30, 2007
One is company. Two is a crowd. And, three are hurdles.
That is the most apt way to describe navigating through the
Winkeler house this week. My youngest daughter, Erin,
visited for a few days. She brought Joe, her golden
retriever, with her.
With two goldens already living under our roof, Joe's
presence created a few complications.
Normally an evening at our house ends with my wife and I
migrating to the couch and love seat in our living room.
Buck usually follows me to whichever piece of furniture I
gravitate to. Jack follows my wife.
If my wife leaves the room for some reason, Jack gets
nervous, particularly if he sees Buck getting some
attention. Jack, being the overbearing personality he is,
finds that situation unacceptable.
Depending on how deprived he feels, Jack takes one of two
corrective courses.
If he's not having serious self-esteem issues, he'll nudge
Buck aside, much like a power forward blocking out for
rebounding position. If he's desperate for affection, Jack
will put his nose down and ram Buck in the side. The result
is similar to a torpedo slamming into the side of a ship.
My reactions are varied, depending on my mood.
If it's been a good day at work (insert your own joke), I'll
pet the both of them. If I feel like antagonizing Jack, I'll
reach over the top of him and continue petting Buck. If it's
been a bad day (read 85 percent of the time), I send them to
opposite corners.
However, none of the three options work when Joe is added to
the mix.
The torpedo scenario played itself out earlier this week,
with Jack blasting Buck aside. The commotion immediately
drew Joe's attention. He trotted over to join the fray.
Mistakenly, I ignored Joe while keeping an eye on the other
two ― until it was too late.
Joe, being Jack's son and a slave to affection, was having
no part of being pushed to the background. He simply
crouched down momentarily and leaped over the both of them,
landing squarely on the couch ― and me.
Suffice it to say, that antic led to the dogs being sent to
neutral corners.
The third dog also adds an element of excitement to my
late-night trips to the bathroom.
Once I'm asleep I hate to turn on the lights. However, my
dogs and I have developed symmetry over the years. Buck
normally sleeps on a rug in our bedroom ― nowhere near the
route to the door.
Jack sleeps in the hall next to the bedroom door. When the
door opens, Jack springs up and steps aside. I suppose
that's learned behavior ― he'd been stepped on a few times.
However, I'm never sure where Joe will be. Since he's tall,
lanky and weighs about 80 pounds, locating him quickly is
essential.
Doing the late-night hurdles is one thing, taking a
late-night spill is another.
TOP
Watching the world pass by in the Veterinarian's
Office
January 10, 2008
If there is anything more fun than people watching, it's
watching people and their pets.
I got ample opportunity to do both Saturday morning when I
accompanied Jack, my 6-year-old golden retriever, to the
veterinarian's office.
Technically Jack is old enough, in dog years, to go alone.
However, he has some anxiety issues, so I decided to wait
with him and hold his paw.
All joking aside, it really was an interesting way to pass
the time.
Jack and I walked into an already crowded waiting room. As
we strolled through the door, I could feel all eyes, human
and canine, were upon us. As I was soon to learn, the
dynamic in the room changed every time another critter
entered.
There were probably a half-dozen dogs in the room when we
walked in. They all reacted to Jack's presence differently.
The smaller, more nervous types growled or barked. Others
watched intently as Jack settled in at my feet. The rest
played little heed, other than lifting their heads and
acknowledging an additional presence.
That scene repeated itself a few minutes later when the next
newcomer entered the room. This time I was more aware of the
dynamic because Jack, being the gregarious sort he is,
wanted to take on the role of greeter.
Each time a new critter entered the room, it would take a
minute or so for a sense of calm to return.
And, remarkably the room generally remained incredibly calm
given the mix of dogs. In addition to Jack there were cocker
spaniels, a bulldog, a black lab, a collie puppy, and
terriers of various shapes as well as assorted mutts.
About 30 minutes into the wait I began wondering what would
happen if a cat entered the room.
Just a few minutes later, a friend walked in carrying a
kitten. Fortunately, for all concerned, the dogs played
little heed to the cat.
After sitting in the waiting room for an hour the nature of
each visit became crystal clear. The lady sitting in the
corner laughing as the black lab puppy licked happily at her
face ― she was there for a routine visit.
The elderly couple that walked in wearing worried faces and
carrying a shivering terrier wrapped in a towel ― without
question, this was an emergency visit. That became
increasingly clear as they took a seat and spoke softly to
the dog.
In the course of conversation we, the community of pet
owners waiting to see the doctor, learned the dog had been
struck by a car.
Since privacy issues aren't a real concern in the animal
world, we learned the story would have a happy ending. No
one said anything, but you could feel a sense of relief in
the room.
Finally, there is nothing like a dog or a cat to break down
walls between people.
Although we all walked into that room as strangers, or at
best casual acquaintances, the conversation throughout the
morning was lively.
By the way ― Jack is feeling much better now.
TOP
Golden
Retrievers Help me Get Exercise, Time to Think
July 31, 2009 One of the excuses I offered
up for getting a golden retriever puppy more than 13 years ago was that the dog
would need exercise.
During the intervening years, my wife and I have made time to walk our dog/dogs
nearly every day. Unlike the postman, we do sometimes take breaks for rain,
sleet or snow, but we have been fairly religious in our regimen.
Not only does the dog walking provide much needed exercise, but it allows us
time to just walk and talk. Since my wife is on vacation this week, I've been
walking the dogs solo. The experience is not nearly as pleasant.
When we got Buck, the older of our two golden retrievers, we did some serious
training. Buck sits, lays down, stays and heels. However, I decided that our
walks would be the one opportunity he had each day to be a dog.
He, and Jack, are expected to heel when cars or trucks pass by, or when we meet
other walkers or bicyclists on the Harrisburg portion of the Tunnel Hill State
Trail.
That philosophy leads to serious complications when you have two dogs on
telescoping leashes. One has to do some serious contortions to keep the leashes
from tangling. It takes dexterity, good reflexes, quick thinking and sometimes
dance moves that would make Fred Astaire proud.
It's also important to understand the psychological make-up of the two dogs.
Jack considers himself the Alpha dog. He's really an incorrigible sissy, afraid
of his own shadow and frightened by unfamiliar noises, but he's firmly in
denial.
When walking the two dogs, Jack insists on being in the lead. He has a confident
gait. He trots along the path surveying the countryside, pretending he is the
master of his domain.
If Buck moves ahead of him, Jack bolts back to the front.
In the meantime, Buck plods along steadily. He sniffs here. He sniffs there.
Buck was blessed with a curiosity that Jack solely lacks.
Despite his shortcomings, Jack understands the quality of Buck's sniffer. If
Jack notices Buck taking a second whiff of what is most assuredly a disgusting
smell, he'll backtrack rapidly to check it out.
And, since my wife wasn't there Monday to occupy my itinerant mind, I had ample
opportunity to think.
I allowed my mind to wonder who would portray my dogs in a movie.
Jack, I decided, is a Vince Vaughn character. Although Jack really means no
harm, he is a perpetual adolescent in dire need of Ritalin.
Buck, on the other hand, is more studied, more serious. He is meticulous in
sniffing every blade of grass. Buck moves in his own time,
Initially, I pictured Anthony Hopkins portraying Buck. However, I couldn't get
past Hannibal Lecter. Finally, I settled on Tom Hanks, the Da Vinci Code, not
the Bosom Buddies, model.
Before I delved too far into this line of thinking, I had a revelation ― I
shouldn't spend too much time alone.
TOP
It’s Hard to Stay
Angry at an Old Friend
December 18, 2009
My golden retriever, Buck, has been a faithful
friend and companion for nearly 14 years.
Buck and I have shared many long rides in my pickup truck. He lays his head on
my lap each night when I watch television and I go to sleep to the sound of his
snoring every night.
However, like all friends, we sometimes have get angry with each other. Last
week, I managed to stay mad at the old guy for about three days.
Each morning when I get up, Buck and Jack prance in circles on the kitchen tile
until I let them outside to do their business. Normally, I keep a close eye on
them to make sure they stay in the yard.
On this particular morning, I decided to slip inside the house and fill their
food bowls. When I returned to the front door, Jack was sitting there waiting
and Buck was gone.
I walked up and down the block, calling and clapping in vain. He was nowhere to
be found.
Angry and betrayed, I returned to the house, fed Jack and headed out to a
convenience store to pick up a few staples. I took a circuitous route home and
found Buck trotting down the street a few blocks from home.
I lowered the window and called his name.
He didn't even bother to look at me. He dropped his head and trooped over to the
car and hopped in the front seat. Normally, Buck places his left paw on my right
arm as I drive. He didn't try it this time. He knew I wasn't in the mood.
There were times during the day Buck tried to work his way into my good graces.
I was having none of it.
I softened later that night when my wife and I were watching one of those syrupy
Christmas movies on Hallmark. The family at the center of the movie experienced
all sorts of physical and emotional problems. Then, of course, the director had
to kill off the family dog.
That was just totally unnecessary. This was already a four-Kleenex movie.
Killing off the dog was just maudlin.
Granted, the movie softened me up a bit, but Buck was still on my bad list a
couple of nights later when my wife and I went to see "Old Dogs."
It's a relatively forgettable movie starring Robin Williams and John Travolta.
Travolta plays a shallow character with few redeeming qualities other than he is
totally devoted to his dog.
Given the tone of this column, it should come as no surprise that Travolta's dog
also meets its demise. As unlikeable as Travolta's character was, it was
impossible not to be sympathetic watching him mourn the loss of long-time
companion.
That did it. I couldn't hold a grudge any longer. Buck was back in my good
graces.
Then, earlier this week, a friend called to tell me his dog had died earlier
this week. It was a difficult conversation.
It's funny how you empathize with someone when they lose a dog. It's also quite
clear why it's so hard to stay angry at them.
TOP
A Final Moment
of Glory for Former Star Athlete
July 23, 2010
There was a time when my oldest golden retriever,
Buck, was an incredible athlete.
When he was young and strong, you couldn't throw a Frisbee that Buck couldn't
catch. His ability to run down a long throw reminded me of Jim Edmonds.
That all changed when his sibling, Jack, came of age.
Jack isn't as graceful as Buck. However, he is more driven. In reality, driven
really isn't fair. When it comes to retrieving, Jack is obsessive-compulsive.
If something goes up in the air, it belongs to Jack. He doesn't care what, or
who, he has to knock down to get it.
For a few years, Buck would try to assert his right to retrieve the Frisbee or
an occasional tennis ball. Eventually, however, he decided it just wasn't worth
it. Like most of us, Buck got smarter with age. He would sit contentedly in the
shade while Jack would run himself ragged.
However, Buck made a brief return from retirement last week.
It all started when my niece, Lauren, was out throwing tennis balls for Jack. It
might be the ravages of age, but Buck apparently had a flashback. For several
minutes he displayed a burning desire to get back in the game.
Unfortunately, Jack being Jack (read a jerk), wouldn't let Buck anywhere near
the ball.
Unable to bear Buck's disappointment, Lauren took Jack into the house so that
Buck could retrieve with impunity.
Buck's excitement was palpable. I hadn't seen that much bounce in his step for
at least five years. He looked like a puppy again.
When Lauren threw the ball across the yard, Buck bolted away like a thoroughbred
out of the starting gates. Frankly, I was shocked by both the intensity and
speed the old boy displayed.
Buck zipped to the ball and snatched it out of the air on the first bounce. He
was back!
Not!
After catching the ball, Buck turned on a dime and headed back toward us. That
is when reality hit.
It was a sad moment.
Buck shot us that, "What did I just do to myself" look.
His shoulders sagged. His gait slowed to an awkward limp. He was breathing
heavily.
The poor old guy dropped the ball and plodded heavily toward the front door.
Once there, Buck looked back plaintively as if to say, "I really need to get
back to the air conditioning."
In the meantime, Jack was clawing at the door wildly, upset that someone else
retrieved a ball on his yard.
Once the door opened, Buck headed to his favorite spot near the kitchen counter.
He sprawled on the floor and sighed heavily.
I know just how he felt.
TOP
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