That One Special Dog ... Your "Heart" Dog

Naturally

Well-known Member
Maybe they're gone now or maybe you are still blessed with them.
That one dog that spoke to your heart and soul.

Rowdy came to my house from the streets and wouldn't take no for an answer.
I returned him to his owner but he escaped so often to find me, the guy just gave me Rowdy.
Rowdy had been the runt of a litter of 10 and no one wanted Rowdy. So the guy had kept him.

Rowdy was a "difficult" dog to own. Not a social dog looking to make friends or seeking attention.
Kinda hard to explain Rowdy, except he was more like a working dog that others shouldn't mess with.
He chose me and I was the only friend he sought, needed or wanted. Completely devoted to me.

When walking Rowdy I would not let people near him although many asked to pet him.
I always just politely said no. Rowdy was not unpredictable or human aggressive.
He never snarled at or bit anyone or anything, just that I knew the kind of dog he was ... not a foo foo dog.
I figured in the wrong place at the wrong time, he might be a liability.
He was very attached to me and I thought he might be over protective in a circumstance, perhaps innocent.
So, I was sure to always maintain positive control of Rowdy at all times.
After all, it's up to us to protect our pets, not the other way around.

From the streets Rowdy came, where he learned a sense of "self" and he could handle himself.
Rowdy was an intense, no nonsense, all business, focused, determined and efficient "man" dog.
We muzzled Rowdy when the vet examined him. Not that Rowdy EVER gave a reason to ...
Just to be on the safe side. Rowdy was a powerful dog.

I wasn't looking for Rowdy, was not searching for that kind of dog what so ever. He found me.
Rowdy has been gone now 12yrs. Mast cell cancer sucks. I still miss my bucket headed buddy boy.


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Good'un @Naturally

reminds me;


I’ll Never Forget My First Friend

I was three.
He was a few months.
Neither of us had much to play with….but each other.
We never lacked.

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He’d look up at me with complete unwavering trust.
Trying to read my face.
Ears perked up when I spoke.
Wherever I went, he followed.
He rapidly grew, and soon we were face high to each other.
We’d roam the patch of woods up the hill from our place, him guarding my every step, sometimes blocking my way when I got too close to the cliff edge. I didn’t know it at the time.
I’d take my naps nestled into his chest.
He’d lie there, never moving a muscle.

As I grew to boyhood, he remained a part of me, my shadow.
We’d wrestle….he’d let me win.

We’d hunt.

We’d fish.

Not that he took part.
He was no hunting dog.
Just my companion.
We’d share lunch.
He’d listen to my every word, as we sat on the creek bank.

Years passed.
I got very busy, but not so busy that we wouldn’t still roam the woods every so often, even though he had a bit of a time keeping up.

The day came when he just didn’t get up.
I was sixteen.
Mom told me to take him in to the vet.
‘He’ll be able to fix him up.’

I gathered him up and laid him in the passenger’s seat of the pickup, right beside me, and we had one of our conversations while I drove the twenty miles.
It had been awhile.
Too long actually.


I sat on the stool beside the exam table, while the vet did his thing.
Once again my best friend and I were face high to each other.
The vet was talking with my mom.
He handed me the phone.
It was time.
He had to be put to sleep.

OK, I brought him in to get fixed up, and now he’s going to be put down….just like that.



I was told I had to leave the room.

Can't.


The vet did…..something. I don’t recall.



I held my best friend’s face with both hands.


His ears perked up as we had what would be our last conversation, telling him the reality.
Then I just cradled his head, holding it to my chest, not moving a muscle.

The vet finally made me leave.

Even though the wipers were going, I had a hard time seeing through the rain drops on the way back home.



……..I’ll never forget my first friend

I put a little poem together awhile back

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Copperheads hold their ground and can even be aggressive sometimes.
Rowdy took a bite from one, jumping in front of me one evening and before I could get Rowdy away.
But Rowdy injured the snake. The puncture wound in the "U" part of the picture broke the snake's back.
I may have otherwise relocated the venomous snake but put the poor snake out of its misery.

30min later, Rowdy was drifting out of it. Eyes rolled back and very lethargic.
The snake had bit Rowdy on the side of his lower jaw.
I got Rowdy to the after hours emergency vet. At $850 a vial of antivenin, Rowdy got one vial (1).
He also received anti-inflammatory and antibiotic shots and was kept overnight.
Next day and $1500 out the door, I brought Rowdy home. He was completely back to normal within 3 days.
Under similar circumstances, other dog owners might have pumped a dog up with Benadryl and called it good.
To me, Rowdy was worth every penny.


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And much later ... the last picture I ever took of Rowdy before saying goodbye the next day.
Rowdy wasn't feeling well at all ... my scent on the pillow ...

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A much happier time and with Sugar ... The Sugary One
Didn't want this post to end on such a sad note.
There is only joy in me for the times I was allowed to share with my dogs.

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The money that I have spent on my dogs has been the best thing I have ever spent money on. I love reading the posts on here.

I have had 3 heart dogs. 2 are gone but I still have max. Cassie was a crazy little Maltese that adored me and wanted to protect me although she was only 5lbs. We called her bipolar because she would bite people on the back of their legs when they turned their back, peed in people’s shoes and many other weird things. She would only want to be with me and wouldn’t eat much when I went on vacation. I have never had a dog so devoted.

Noki was a 84lb husky shepherd mix that saved my life 2 weeks after I rescued him at 8. He was smart and protective and let the 4 little ones abuse him. As he aged he developed separation anxiety and became extremely attached to me. He lived to 13.

I still have Max who’s a tiny Maltese that adores me and prefers me to everyone.
Because I have rescued dogs I have had 9 in the past 19 years and often 3-4 at once. I have loved them all.
 

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I’ve had a wonderful string of lifetime dogs starting with my lab/golden Sophie, then the Aussie shepherd Fletcher we inherited, then a German Shepherd/heeler cross named Heidi who was followed by my heeler/Aussie boy Smokey and I’d like to think my two year old McNab Ember might yet make the cut too. But I’ll start with Fletcher because he probably taught me more about dogs than any other.

We inherited Fletcher from my wife’s aunt and uncle at about 4 years of age after putting them up to getting another dog in their 80’s with the assurance that we would take if, as they figured, they wouldn’t live long enough to see him through. Being raised by octogenarians I swear he thought a command was an invitation to a kind of oppositional play which enjoyed. That would have been worse if he hadn’t been the kind hearted social genius that he was. He never did anything which would’ve required a correction. So who needs commands? The dog he joined was Sophie who I’d trained better than any other dog I’ve had, a sort of robo-dog where commands were concerned. And she enforced house rules on all other dogs who came into our home. She didn’t have to body slam Fletcher into the wall for trying to bolt past me on the stairs twice. He was smart and accepted her being the boss.

But on walks he enjoyed playing dominance games with other dogs. As we approached other dogs he would single out the one he considered the most dominant and engage in a stare down just to clear the air. He never got in a fight. Though he did once cause one by playing another little mind game in which he would win the affection of another dog’s master and then give the dog a gloating smile. There always a border collie girl for whom that was a fighting issue and she flew at him. He jumped backwards into the air parrying her muzzle with his own but also giving ground until he’d opened a small gap. At that point he started sniffing around and then walked away nonchalantly.

I discovered he was good with kids when a little toddler who had been holding her mom’s stroller with one hand reached out with the other to hold his lion’s mane of a ruff. Then she let go of the stroller and grabbed on to Fletcher with both hands giggling wildly while he beamed a huge smile. After a while he gave her a lick on the forehead and as she she brought both her hands up to feel the wet spot he politely moved on.

His biggest fault was running off. I don’t think he wanted to leave so much as he wanted to socialize and I was gone all day teaching. So I’d get calls telling me what a nice dog he was and where he was if I wanted to come get him - but no hurry. I always had the idea that he could get in any car with any human and have just as good a life wherever he went.

After Sophie died I found Heidi so he’d have a chum. She was a much more powerful of a dog than Fletcher and also dominance minded but I think she enjoyed life as his first lieutenant. While she was a physical force, she was no where near as confident as Fletcher around other dogs. This video is from early on after she joined us.


They were very close and she eventually let him know who was really the boss at least at home. But Fletcher developed congestive heart failure at 14 and died two months later. During one walk I ended up carrying his almost 50 pounds to the car. After that walks involved my wheelbarrow. But started getting clingy with him toward the end.

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On his last day we arranged to meet the vet who would have come out to euthanize him the next day. But after one more wheelbarrow

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ride he lay beside me on the couch as I looked through that days photos.

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Then I realized my leg was getting wet where his head was resting on my leg from him drooling, a first. And he didn’t respond when I got up so I picked him up to look him over and he tensed and then went rag doll in my arms. We wouldn’t be needing that vet’s services after all. Lots of good memories of Fletch.

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He is the only dog I’ve ever buried in my garden and I built a raised bed around where I buried him and marked it with s metal novelty sign Lia’s aunt and uncle had received one Christmas.

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Rosie, I remember the first time that I met you, you were the smallest of the litter so tiny. You were curled up in a corner of your first owners' home. We both knew then, that you were the one.

Rosie was the best dog and friend that you could ever ask for. I thank her for all the unconditional love that she gave us. She had exceeded our expectations through her longevity. We were very fortunate to be her companion for 15 years. She was such a special part of our lives, and we will never forget that.

We were both heartbroken, when we were put to the test, but knew that she would be in a better place. We didn't want her to suffer anymore and her last few days were so hard. Painful though it was, we had to make that awful decision. It was one of the hardest things that we had to do, but we had to let her go, it would have been selfish to let her suffer anymore. Our house is so quiet right now... But I know it will get easier and our tears will turn into smiles with happy memories.

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See you on the other side of Rainbow Bridge my little treasure.
 
My late husband's Australian Shepard died right before my husband did.
My husband wanted to be cremated.
I had his dog cremated too and sent his dog's ashes along with his
to his eldest daughter to spread over Paradise Valley, Nevada.
(his old stompin grounds)
His daughters went on a long horse trail ride to spread both of the ashes.
I know he would have loved that!
 


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