Memories of Al
Al never tasted dog food. Uh, uh...he ate what Betty cooked for herself be it steak, hamburg, pork chops...he was a meat 'n potatoes dog. He never came upstairs to our quarters (our meeting place was the backyard). I kinda regret that he never had dinner with us. One taste of my cooking and he'd be begging for dog food! I was amazed that this little dog always retained his youthful figure - never put on a pound. I wasn't surprised that he took 20 minutes to "get his business" done. Then that family trait would kick in "come on Al, come on Al, come ON Al".
Lest I sound patronizing, critical and know-it-all, I must say that when we got our own dog, most of the lessons I learned from Al flew out the window.
The city we moved to had wonderful walking trails, hills, river, ravines... a dog's paradise. Al was a great walker by now and he, Greg and I would walk for hours; we especially loved the trails. One day, meandering along a trail, Al suddenly stopped in his tracks, a deep growl resonating from his chest, fur standing straight up. Greg and I stood at high alert, not hearing or seeing (or smelling) anything. I was afraid of what might be coming, so I handed the leash over to Greg. We stood rooted to the spot for five minutes when Al gave a mighty leap forward, almost knocking Greg on his (well, you know). Around the bend came a horse and rider...then another horse and rider...then another to the count of five horses. Al was absolutely wild...barking and leaping, teeth gnashing; we couldn't calm him down. The trail was very narrow - no room for a horse, two people and a crazy dog. Behind us was thick bush known to bear poison ivy and who knew what else. We took our chances with the poison ivy, Greg holding the leash for dear life, me standing in front of Al to block access to the horses. I was terrified those horses were going to shy and trample us under their hoofs. It's to the credit of horse and rider that they passed sedately by, 20 eyes straight ahead, never looking left nor right.
Al loved chasing squirrels. If the word squirrel was even mentioned in passing, he'd start running around looking for one. One day during his squirrel patrol, he spotted two of them standing right within reach. At his stealthy approach, one ran to the left, the other to the right. Al did the same -- his left leg ran to the left, his right leg to the right. He fell - legs splayed awkwardly - moaning. Greg carried him to the car and he and Betty rode to the vet. They came home without Al but he'd be back in a few days, after the operation. Operation? I don't do medical terms; all I know is that he ripped something in his right leg but would be fixed up in no time. The operation was successful and in a few days, Greg carried Al downstairs where he would rest for a week or so. Good thing Greg was big and muscular and able to go up and down the stairs carrying a 30 pound dog! Three days after the operation, I woke up to the sounds of Al moaning and whining downstairs. I quickly went down and could see he was in pain. Well, what did I expect...he just had an operation. But didn't the vet leave anything for pain? Well, yes...just didn't get the prescription filled yet. I went over and looked at Al's leg and it was a bright, bright red. Oh that doesn't look good at all. He's fine, just needs rest. I stomped upstairs and put my foot down -- hard, very hard. Down the stairs goes Greg, up he comes carrying Al, Betty stomping up the stairs close behind. Off to the vet they go. Back they came, two sheepish looking humans, one dog looking embarassed by the Elizabethan collar he sported. Ah... prescriptions filled, leg protected from teeth. I'm a happy camper now! Al healed well in a couple weeks and was back at his squirrel hunting soon after. Some dogs never learn, but that's one lesson I did take with me when we got our own dog.
My most poignant memory of Al is the first thing I think of when I call him to mind. After dinner one evening, Greg and I packed Al into the car and off we went to a large riverside park. We spent a few hours enjoying the cool breeze, mosying around by the river, smelling the roses. It was just dusk when we decided to head back home. Got to the car and oh, no...keys were locked inside, dangling from the ignition. It was decided that Greg would walk the 25 minutes home, get the spare key, then another 25 minutes back. Al and I would just sit on this park bench right here and wait for him. And so we did until we got bored and restless. Well, we'll just walk around a bit...there's stairs over there going up to a walkway...let's see what's there. So up the stairs we went - no problem; walked around some, stared out over the water, enjoyed the breeze. By the time we headed back to the stairs, it was quite dark. Hard to even see the steps. These were open, iron stairs... like fire-escape stairs. Hadn't even noticed on our way up. But Al noticed and brought it to my attention. He would not budge an inch and just sat at the top of the stairs. I pulled, I tugged, I cajoled and sweet-talked him and tried the stern voice. Nothing worked. It was dark, Greg would be back and looking for us real soon and he'd never find us up here. What to do, what to do? In desperation, I sat beside Al and put my arm across his back. Just musing, conversationally I told him..."Al, I know you're afraid of these steps...it's okay, so am I. But the thing is, Greg will be looking for us and won't see us up here in the dark. We need to be brave and get down these stairs. I need you to come down the stairs with me now. Please?". Up gets Al, and walking as quickly as he could without pulling me, down the stairs we went. It seemed like forever to reach the bottom but there were only about a dozen steps to go down. When we reached the bottom, I knelt beside him and tried to put my arms around him to thank him but he just tossed his hairy head and went into his tough-guy swagger -- strutting like he was the bravest, toughest dog in town. And so he was, so he was. I was SO proud of that little mutt and bragged him up to Greg while Al just layed on the backseat with a baleful look as if to say "huh, all in a day's work".
The day came when Betty and Al had to leave our home (Al would have been welcome to stay). They moved to a city close by, but I knew I wouldn't be seeing Al again. I was saddened to hear that a few months after they moved, Betty had Al "put down".
You were SUCH a good boy, Al...
Lest I sound patronizing, critical and know-it-all, I must say that when we got our own dog, most of the lessons I learned from Al flew out the window.
The city we moved to had wonderful walking trails, hills, river, ravines... a dog's paradise. Al was a great walker by now and he, Greg and I would walk for hours; we especially loved the trails. One day, meandering along a trail, Al suddenly stopped in his tracks, a deep growl resonating from his chest, fur standing straight up. Greg and I stood at high alert, not hearing or seeing (or smelling) anything. I was afraid of what might be coming, so I handed the leash over to Greg. We stood rooted to the spot for five minutes when Al gave a mighty leap forward, almost knocking Greg on his (well, you know). Around the bend came a horse and rider...then another horse and rider...then another to the count of five horses. Al was absolutely wild...barking and leaping, teeth gnashing; we couldn't calm him down. The trail was very narrow - no room for a horse, two people and a crazy dog. Behind us was thick bush known to bear poison ivy and who knew what else. We took our chances with the poison ivy, Greg holding the leash for dear life, me standing in front of Al to block access to the horses. I was terrified those horses were going to shy and trample us under their hoofs. It's to the credit of horse and rider that they passed sedately by, 20 eyes straight ahead, never looking left nor right.
Al loved chasing squirrels. If the word squirrel was even mentioned in passing, he'd start running around looking for one. One day during his squirrel patrol, he spotted two of them standing right within reach. At his stealthy approach, one ran to the left, the other to the right. Al did the same -- his left leg ran to the left, his right leg to the right. He fell - legs splayed awkwardly - moaning. Greg carried him to the car and he and Betty rode to the vet. They came home without Al but he'd be back in a few days, after the operation. Operation? I don't do medical terms; all I know is that he ripped something in his right leg but would be fixed up in no time. The operation was successful and in a few days, Greg carried Al downstairs where he would rest for a week or so. Good thing Greg was big and muscular and able to go up and down the stairs carrying a 30 pound dog! Three days after the operation, I woke up to the sounds of Al moaning and whining downstairs. I quickly went down and could see he was in pain. Well, what did I expect...he just had an operation. But didn't the vet leave anything for pain? Well, yes...just didn't get the prescription filled yet. I went over and looked at Al's leg and it was a bright, bright red. Oh that doesn't look good at all. He's fine, just needs rest. I stomped upstairs and put my foot down -- hard, very hard. Down the stairs goes Greg, up he comes carrying Al, Betty stomping up the stairs close behind. Off to the vet they go. Back they came, two sheepish looking humans, one dog looking embarassed by the Elizabethan collar he sported. Ah... prescriptions filled, leg protected from teeth. I'm a happy camper now! Al healed well in a couple weeks and was back at his squirrel hunting soon after. Some dogs never learn, but that's one lesson I did take with me when we got our own dog.
My most poignant memory of Al is the first thing I think of when I call him to mind. After dinner one evening, Greg and I packed Al into the car and off we went to a large riverside park. We spent a few hours enjoying the cool breeze, mosying around by the river, smelling the roses. It was just dusk when we decided to head back home. Got to the car and oh, no...keys were locked inside, dangling from the ignition. It was decided that Greg would walk the 25 minutes home, get the spare key, then another 25 minutes back. Al and I would just sit on this park bench right here and wait for him. And so we did until we got bored and restless. Well, we'll just walk around a bit...there's stairs over there going up to a walkway...let's see what's there. So up the stairs we went - no problem; walked around some, stared out over the water, enjoyed the breeze. By the time we headed back to the stairs, it was quite dark. Hard to even see the steps. These were open, iron stairs... like fire-escape stairs. Hadn't even noticed on our way up. But Al noticed and brought it to my attention. He would not budge an inch and just sat at the top of the stairs. I pulled, I tugged, I cajoled and sweet-talked him and tried the stern voice. Nothing worked. It was dark, Greg would be back and looking for us real soon and he'd never find us up here. What to do, what to do? In desperation, I sat beside Al and put my arm across his back. Just musing, conversationally I told him..."Al, I know you're afraid of these steps...it's okay, so am I. But the thing is, Greg will be looking for us and won't see us up here in the dark. We need to be brave and get down these stairs. I need you to come down the stairs with me now. Please?". Up gets Al, and walking as quickly as he could without pulling me, down the stairs we went. It seemed like forever to reach the bottom but there were only about a dozen steps to go down. When we reached the bottom, I knelt beside him and tried to put my arms around him to thank him but he just tossed his hairy head and went into his tough-guy swagger -- strutting like he was the bravest, toughest dog in town. And so he was, so he was. I was SO proud of that little mutt and bragged him up to Greg while Al just layed on the backseat with a baleful look as if to say "huh, all in a day's work".
The day came when Betty and Al had to leave our home (Al would have been welcome to stay). They moved to a city close by, but I knew I wouldn't be seeing Al again. I was saddened to hear that a few months after they moved, Betty had Al "put down".
You were SUCH a good boy, Al...