education of henry

Duke

2018-07-03

We said goodbye to Duke this week. He was thirteen years old.

Duke protected us from squirrels and rabbits, and every dog that passed by - especially Buckles, the lab who menaced the neighborhood by wandering loose and shitting on everyone's yard. Duke's bark would scare just about anyone who came to the door, but he was harmless. One time when Duke yawned, Henry reached his hand up into those massive teeth - and Duke finished yawning but did not close his mouth or move until Henry's hand was out of the way.

Duke made us laugh with all the crazy things he would eat if opportunity presented itself: a pizza cooling in the window; sticks of butter; a loaf of challah bread; a package of English muffins; slices of bread left on the counter for even a moment; a bag of lemon drops; and even a burrito buried in two feet of snow on the side of the road that he somehow smelled and dug out despite the temperature being below zero. How he would beg for food any time someone was eating. How he would lie flat on the floor like a furry crocodile when we were in the kitchen, waiting for a morsel to hit the ground. How much he loved ice cream. Have you ever seen a dog get brain freeze?

And Duke loved to walk. Well, really he just loved to sniff everything in the neighborhood - maybe it wasn't walking he loved. He might have been just as happy if we had fetched every tree and bush and post in a three-mile radius and held them to his nose for inspection, one-by-one. However, neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night (or early morning, for that matter) could keep him from his daily rounds. We could not say the word walk in his presence, so we spelled it - and eventually he seemed to learn how to spell just that one word. When someone said "walk," his ears would straighten up and rotate toward whomever said it. And then he would be right there, his front paws tapping on the ground in excitement, bumping into things and people, dancing toward the door. And if the walk didn't start fast enough? He would voice his displeasure and impatience with a deep trilling howl crossed with a growl - one of the best noises made by anyone or anything.

Saying goodbye was hard. But he was in pain. He went peacefully, at home, eating ice cream and being fed as many treats as he could handle before he lost consciousness.

The house seems empty without him, but our hearts are full of happy memories for having known him.

Here are some pictures of the big guy.