The Best Dog Ever

Today we said goodbye to a longtime member of our family; Fergus was nearly 14 years old.  I do not exaggerate when I say he was a family member, as Nathan and Erin literally grew up with him.  They were about 7 and 5 when he came to live with us in the spring of 2001, and Nathan recently turned 21.  Though this post may seem a departure from my usual health and fitness stuff, A) I don't really care, and B) there are plenty of studies showing the health benefits of having a pet.

Fergus was one of ten puppies from the mating of sire Duncan's Duck Darling (Duncan) and Belle.  Registered with the AKC as "Belle's Irishman Fergus," we brought him home right around Tulip Time.  

He was born on St. Patrick's Day, so the "requirement" was an Irish name.  We struggled and argued over the name for the week before we brought him home, even consulting our still-owned baby name book (which was used for the last time in this case...) before we came up with a name we could all agree on.  "Fergus" was a fitting name for the roly-poly black Labrador puppy, and the fun and excitement of raising a dog began in earnest.  Potty training, obedience, etc. were duties shared among the four of us, and he learned pretty quickly.

We were always pretty sure we knew where Fergus saw himself in the pack that was our family.  I was clearly the Alpha male,

with Dana a close second in the hierarchy.  He seemed to struggle with where he and Nathan fit in exactly, but Erin was always his best buddy and we were certain he thought himself a notch above her.  Until one day when she was in maybe eighth grade and she used the voice that we are all blessed with when she wanted him out of the kitchen.  I swear his face fell a mile when he realized he was at the bottom...  But he was a happy dog and content to be wherever the family was at all times.

We told ourselves we wouldn't let him on the furniture.  OK, but not the bed.  OK, at least not....  Oh, never mind.  We did stick to crate training and keeping him from virtually all "people food," and

he always got glowing reports from Dr. Heitman regarding his health and weight.

Sometimes you read stories about heroic dogs, or ones who know instinctively to bark to warn against strangers.  Not Fergus.  He'd have let anyone in the house, and he was quite simply a happy-go-lucky, dorky dog with maybe two exceptions.  Anyone who has known us or Fergus for any length of time already knows these, and my kids are rolling their eyes right now, because apparently I tell some stories more than once...

The first of these came early in his life, and was absolutely adorable.  Erin was maybe six years old, and she wanted to take the dog for a walk all by herself.  We usually didn't just let her wander off by herself, thank you very much, so we didn't really know what to think.  But hey, what's one time around our pretty short block, right?  What could happen?  (I'll tell you what could happen: she could be dragged along the sidewalk helplessly clinging to the

leash while Fergus ran amok...)  "OK, just let me get him to the sidewalk for you," because he was still pretty rambunctious when it came to walking.  We could definitely avoid her getting pulled down the stairs if nothing else, right?

Fergus was his usual crazy self when I got the leash.  He always loved going for walks, even from a very young age.  My misgivings were not eased at all as he ran out the front door and practically dove down the steps.  I got him to sit and relax for a minute (barely) so I could make sure Erin knew what to do.  Still not knowing what the end result would be, I gave her the leash and she said, "come on, Fergus, let's go for a walk."

And he did.  Simply got up from his seated position and toddled right alongside the small six-year-old girl, happily walking by her side all the way down the block as though he did this all the time.  We watched in amazement as they made it to the end of the block and turned the corner.  After a few minutes Nathan and I thought it would be a good idea to head the other way around just to see how it was going.  It was still going great!  Until Fergus saw us...  They were maybe a half-block away when he bolted to greet us, easily yanking the leash out of Erin's hands.  She was so mad!  At me...  Thus began their lifelong friendship, with Erin frequently tweeting about "The Fergs" and his antics over the last couple years.

The other time involved beer brewing and a total stranger...  I had just acquired my giant new brewing system, shipped all the way from California, and was trying a new batch.  Fergus was probably around five or so.

Since I still didn't have the process mastered with the new system, Erin was on hand to assist as needed (I know, brewing beer with my 10-year-old daughter...).  Getting the grain into the highest kettle was going to be a two-handed process.  She held the bag of grain while I scooped it into the hot water.

We were in that position, me on a step stool, her holding a 20 pound sack of barley, when we saw a small child walking slowly up the driveway toward the back yard.  Both of us stopped to watch - we'd never seen this kid before.  The strangest thing happened: Fergus, usually ecstatic to see virtually anyone and eager to plaster them with sloppy kisses, saw the kid, too.  And he sat down.  Right in the grass, perfectly still.  We all watched as the young boy jumped the fence, Fergus still sitting quietly.  

The brewing was forgotten as we stared dumbfounded as this maybe six-year-old kid walked right in the back door as if he never saw us!  Fergus was still watching.  Erin and I did the classic double take back and forth, completely unsure of how to proceed, when we saw a very distressed-looking teenage boy walking down the sidewalk in front of our house.  Putting two and two together we said something to him; relief flooded the poor kid's face and he hustled to the gate.

Dana, meanwhile, was in the house reading the paper.  Being a basically chill person most of the time, she didn't think it terribly odd that a small child had just wandered into the house, but she was definitely intrigued!  I sent the teenager into the house after the boy, who had, as I recall, made his way upstairs.

As it turns out, Vincent was autistic and our house was on his list of favorite things somehow.  The teen boy was a new babysitter, and hadn't been paying close attention for a couple minutes, and Vincent wandered off.  Vincent's mom showed up, flagged down by me as she slowly drove down the street (had to be related to the situation, I figured...).  She apologized profusely, and made Vincent apologize, too, for being rude and walking into the house.  (For the record, none of us were bothered by the idea; the little guy just wanted to see our house!  "No apology necessary," I think I said to his mom.)

How did Fergus know?  What special dog sense did he possess to not even approach this little boy?  He loved kids.  OK, he loved everybody.  But he somehow knew that this boy was different.  He kept his distance, didn't jump, didn't lick, didn't do anything he usually did.  Just sat and watched.

We've been asked if we are getting another dog, and the answer for a while will be "no."  Why?  Well, there will be the convenience factor of not having to get a dog-sitter any time we leave for the weekend and that sort of thing.  But honestly?  We had the perfect dog for almost 14 years.  We can't possibly do any better, and probably can't do that well with any other dog.  

We'll miss you, old friend.  Tomorrow morning's wake-up routine will be different.  We will miss the happy, laughing face greeting us at the top of the back steps when we come home.  We'll miss your weird ability to tell time - how on Earth could you tell when it was 6:00 p.m. and time for dinner?  (He could do noon lunch, too...)  The morning snuggles, evening snuggles, and all of the snuggles in between as you plopped yourself into our laps on the couch.  

So goodbye, faithful one.  We will remember you forever.