One of the first columns I wrote after making the jump from radio to print media in 2018 was about the shame of explaining to the librarian that my then four-month-old puppy Bear ate the borrowed copy of Anne of Green Gables. Twice.
He was only a month into his seven-year tenure as our family pet, and books continued to make somewhat regular appearances on the list of non-food objects consumed, despite continual efforts at redirection. Like our four children, Bear had a particular fondness for Dr. Seuss and Sandra Boynton board books.
There is a well-worn path around the perimeter of our yard where Bear patrolled every day, defending us against the non-threats of songbirds and golf carts. Chasing and retrieving are evidently very different skill sets, he never did learn to fetch. Chasing and running are also not the same thing – while Bear loved chasing things in the yard, he hated running with my husband Jordan, preferring a long leisurely walk about town.
To his credit, Bear was a very good boy on the leash and rarely pulled. Despite his cowardice any time he met another dog or a person while out with Jordan, Bear put himself between me and the kids and a loose Rottweiler when I was walking him with the stroller one day during the pandemic. He also came to my defense any time my husband or children gave in to the temptation to start a tickle fight.
A German Shepherd Great Pyrenees cross, Bear was a shameless beggar and a thief. His dedication to table scraps and children’s snacks proved a lifelong battle of wills. At his heaviest, Bear tipped the scale at 100 lbs, well above the recommended 70 to 80 lbs.
Bear’s intelligence was both one of his strengths, and his biggest fault as a pet. When I started banishing him to our bedroom or the yard during snack and mealtimes, Bear learned how to open the pantry, and I had to start keeping a child lock on it. The garbage can in our kitchen was selected specifically for its pet-lock function, and despite Bear’s best efforts to continue self-supplementing his diet, he did slim down to 83 lbs.
We said goodbye to Bear last week. We had noticed him slowing down over the past year but assumed he was just taking longer to recover from the TPLO surgery we had done for his knee last fall after he came in from a golf cart pursuit hobbling on three legs. When he developed a persistent cough and some digestive symptoms, we took him into the vet, expecting to be told he had finally done himself in eating something inappropriate.
Instead, we found out his heart was enlarged, and his liver and kidneys were shutting down.
Jordan walks alone in the evening now. The split seam in the leather on the couch in our living room reminds me of where Bear should be when I’m knitting as North of North or Outlander plays in the background after the kids are in bed. Our 20-month old son Joshua asks “Where puppy?” when he’s done with his snack.
Friday nights are movie nights, and the kids want a dog movie. All Dogs Go To Heaven (1989)?
