The Best Boy

In memory of Duke.

*Trigger warning: Pet loss and grief*

I was born to teenage parents. My mother was sixteen when she delivered me, so it is no shock that I grew up in poverty. I also grew up without pets for the most part.

My sister and I moved from parent to parent and my parents moved from relationship to relationship and trailer to apartment to house. Pets were often not allowed and we didn’t have a yard much of the time anyway. Even if we did have a yard, we didn’t stay in one place for too long to learn our home address, much less own a pet.

My parents did the best they could.

As a young adult, I wasn’t really an animal person. I was busy with school and work and kids and the thought of having one more responsibility kind of made me feel overwhelmed. We had a few stray cats that came into our lives, but never a pet that lived with us as a family. I didn’t know what I didn’t know, so we just didn’t have pets.

But that changed when we bought our farmhouse seven years ago and realized we had the space and the time for a pet.

We went to the local shelter to look at a dog we saw on the website. We took him for a walk and he was anxious with the kids and I was afraid he may be nervous enough to bite. We returned him to his kennel and walked a smaller female dog who jumped and barked a lot. I know these behaviors can be worked out, but I was afraid I wouldn’t have the know-how to correct them.

We walked her back into the kennel as well and were about to leave when we saw a German Shepherd/Great Pyrenees mix looking kind of sad. The excessive barking of the dogs in the shelter seemed to bother him. He was quiet and acted like he had good manners.

He looked sweet, but I have a little bit of a fear of shepherds. My oldest son was playing with a cousin in the yard when he was 12 years old — over 15 years ago. My aunt’s neighbor was a retired police officer with a retired K9 officer. A German Shepherd. The German Shepherd got out of his yard and chased my son, eventually biting him on his back. We went to the ER to check out the wound. He was cleaned up and he received a stitch or two, but that incident scared and scarred me.

I don’t think the incident bothered my son as much as he currently owns a Belgian Malinois who looks a whole lot like a German Shepherd.

I went to the desk at the shelter to ask about the Shepherd mix…his name was Duke. It turned out that Duke had quite a bit of a rap sheet and had been returned to the shelter. Twice. Thank goodness this is a no-kill shelter.

Duke had food aggression and had been returned for growling at another dog. That didn’t bother me much since we didn’t have any dogs and I wouldn’t feed him around other people. He also had a habit of herding or chasing livestock. He was returned for his trouble.

Well, that part was problematic. We raise livestock. We decided to take him for a walk anyway.

It was kind of love at first walk.

Since Duke had been returned twice, the shelter sent him through a program called Puppies for Parole. The dogs are trained by people who are currently incarcerated serving out the last few months of their sentence. These folks volunteer to train dogs. The dogs live with them in the treatment center while in training.

The Puppies for Parole program started in July 2010 and gives shelter dogs the opportunity to become a more adoptable pet through a training program that teaches basic manners and commands. Residents are selected and trained to handle the dog and provide him/her with the necessary socialization and training to improve the chances of a permanent adoption. The animal is selected by the Puppies for Parole facilitator and placed into the program for approximately 8 to 12 weeks during which they teach dogs to walk nicely on a leash, greet people without jumping or mouthing, crate training, potty training, and basic commands like sit, stay, lay, leave it and wait.

This program has an amazing impact on folks in custody and the dogs they train. There is often a waiting list to be chosen as a trainer and the folks who train the dogs have a new-found skill set that is very marketable and sought after post-incarceration. Handling dogs also provides therapeutic support for some in custody.

Duke had a great trainer and we knew it as soon as we walked him. He was polite and didn’t run or pull on the leash. He sat on command and stayed as well. He was very social and almost smiled as we played with him. He was gentle with the kids and didn’t jump or act aggressive in any way.

We left the shelter without him because we wanted to think about it. He was a big dog and he had a rap sheet. But, after a day of thinking on it, we returned to adopt him. It was one of the best things we’ve ever done.

Duke was thought to be two or three years old when we adopted him. He was our constant companion on the farm, but he did do the bad things in his file. He tried to chase livestock. We stopped him with a boundary fence. He had a collar that beeped to warn him that he would get a consequence if he ran out of the boundary. Duke was smart and knew exactly how far he could get to the cows or the donkey before his collar warned him. There was a line in the grass where he put the brakes on each day. Smart dog.

Duke spent his days chasing squirrels up a tree and chasing rabbits off the farm. He never managed to catch either to my knowledge although he did manage to dig up a groundhog once. The squirrels taunted Duke in the trees by barking back…they sounded like they enjoyed their daily games as much as he did.

Duke showed up in family pictures and even Senior photo shoots. He was the good boy that we all loved and that was shocking to me. I actually loved this dog. I had never loved an animal before. Growing up on farms, animals weren’t treated as part of the family in many cases. They were utilitarian, not pets, but Duke was different.

We all loved him.

Duke was starting to get gray around his muzzle, and was slowing down — we thought it might be time to get another dog to ease him into his elder years. Remember, his file said he was food aggressive and we realized he could be just plain aggressive around other animals. I couldn’t take him for walks or to town or to events because I couldn’t trust him around other dogs.

We ended up adopting a Miniature Aussie who we named Winnie almost a year ago. She is so sweet and a Velcro dog if I’ve ever met one. It was not love at first sight for Duke. He acted like he wanted to kill her and we kept them separate with a few quick meetings for about a week. Soon enough, Duke let his guard down, and one day, I let them both out and Duke taught her the ropes. He showed her the boundaries and how to tree a squirrel. They fell in love within a few weeks and were inseparable within a month. They slept in the same crate.

So, it was a shock last week when Duke suddenly died. My daughter was home with me when I discovered him. I frantically and tearfully called my husband who rushed home. I called our two boys who also grew up with him and they raced to the house to tell Duke goodbye.

We were all so sad and we hadn’t considered him leaving us so fast. It was heartbreaking to watch the kids, even the adult ones, with tears streaming down their faces telling Duke goodbye. We had loved him for seven years.

We wrapped him in a blanket and we asked a neighbor to bring his Skid Steer over to bury him. Our neighbor dropped everything he was doing on his place to drive over and help us with Duke. My daughter and I stayed inside as they buried our good boy…neither of us could stand to see it.

We buried him near the tree he stood under all those years, desperate to catch a squirrel. It was the happiest place on Earth for him.

Winnie is still inconsolable, but I am hopeful she will come out of it soon. She searches for him each time she goes out, running in circles until she gives up.

As for the rest of us, it’s been a rough week. We can see his grave from the porch and it is as soothing as it is upsetting. I know it will get better as time goes by, but we miss him so much.

I have had a feeling that I am forgetting something every day since Duke died. When I leave the house, I feel it intensely. You know the feeling—what am I forgetting? Did I turn off the oven or blow out the candle or make sure the air is turned up? It’s none of those things.

It’s Duke. But I’m not forgetting him. I’m missing him.

He was the best boy.

~Jess

P.S. The no-kill shelter we adopt from is the New Nodaway Humane Society. They are staffed with the best people and have several animals for adoption…some are free. They also accept donations to keep the shelter open and the animals fed.