WHAT DID WE DO TO DESERVE DOGS?
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| Angus |
BY A. GERCKENS
I received an Amazon Echo Dot this past Christmas. One of the first exchanges I had with Alexa was as follows:
Alexa. What does the name Angus mean?
Her response: “In Celtic usage, Angus means exceptionally strong. In Gaelic usage, Angus means superior strength. In Ireland, Angus means unique strength. In Scotland, Angus means unnaturally strong.”
My dog, Angus, had to be euthanized. It was time. Angus was (I’m still struggling trying to get used to talking about him in the past tense) so much more than our pet. He became a treasured member of our family. There simply aren’t many photographs of my children growing up that don’t include him.
Angus was a purebred Boxer. When my wife and I decided to welcome a dog into our household, we had narrowed the breeds down to three.
I originally liked the idea of getting a Bulldog. To me, the Bulldog selling point from everything I read was that a Bulldog would be perfectly happy to sit down and watch tv with his master and wouldn’t require a lot of exercise.
We toyed with the idea of getting a Brittany Spaniel because I thought it would be funny to have a daughter named Brittany and a dog breed with the same name.
We eliminated the Brittany Spaniel when we realized the Brittany had a thick coat of hair. One of my rules was to consider...nothing but short-haired dogs.
The Boxer breed intrigued me. It had the short hair and by all accounts was a loyal and intelligent breed. Although the Boxer would require a little more exercise (in retrospect a lot more exercise than the Bulldog), my wife, Patsy, wanted to get out more and thought a nightly walk of the dog would be a great source of motivation.
Within days of deciding on the three breeds, someone at work mentioned he knew of a new litter of Boxer pups. The people were his friends and they were looking to find homes for the puppies.
I realized it was a lot of work to take care of a puppy so I was still not convinced that I wanted to bring a dog into our house. After all, my wife and I were just finding it a bit easier now that our twin daughters were no longer toddlers. I can honestly say that for the first four or five years of their lives, it seemed like we were never able to catch our breath. After much pleading, I decided to take a look at the puppies.
I brought a pal of mine whose sole task was to be surly and help discourage me from making any rash decisions.
We drove to the address given and were greeted by a very strong and handsome looking Boxer. His ears and tail were clipped and he looked like one bad-ass dog. He started barking and I thought maybe a Boxer would not be the right fit.
Soon, the couple brought out a litter of eight puppies. I have to admit they were all very cute, but I knew the cuteness factor is short-lived. Eventually, these cute little pups grow into something like...well, I glanced over my shoulder and took another peek at dad.
I spotted the smallest puppy and picked him up. Although he was cute, the other pups seemed to be walking all over him. The other pups pushed him out of the way to play with us and when treats came, he was the last to get fed because the other pups kept knocking him down. I learned later that he was the runt of the litter.
There was another pup that intrigued me. He wouldn’t leave me alone. He yelped, he jumped on me, he ate his treat and tried to steal the treats of the others. He was the color of a fawn and had two distinct features. He had a spot of white fur shaped like a diamond on his back and he had a white forepaw. I learned later that this puppy was the alpha male of the litter.
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| The girls with their new pup |
Despite my best efforts to hold out, I fell in love with this little Alpha pup. My surly friend who was supposed to keep me focused, kept pointing to the little diamond spot and said how we had to have this dog. This would be the first in a long line of betrayals associated with getting a dog. Other betrayals included feeding him, walking him and cleaning up after him.
I asked the breeder what the little guy’s name was and she replied, “we’ve been calling him Prince.”
I returned home and told my wife and daughters that I found the cutest little puppy. My wife smiled realizing the puppy had won me over.
We loaded into my truck and drove back to the house with the puppies. My daughters were thrilled to have eight bundles of fur climbing over them, but in the end, we picked the one tentatively called Prince.
One reason I wanted a male puppy was to even out the male to female ratio in the house. As the lone male I was consistently getting outvoted by a three to one margin by my wife and twin daughters. It only took a few weeks before my newfound brother-in-arms would betray me and also side with the female members of our house.
When we brought the puppy home we needed to name him. I thought of all the cool boxing names that I could give our Boxer. Rocky, Tyson, Cassius, Frazier, Norton, and Foreman all came to mind. I realized I was overloaded with heavyweight names, so I looked to the lightweights and thought I had the perfect name…”Boom Boom.”
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| Establishing dominance at an early age |
Yes, I was going to name him Boom Boom after Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini. Why not? Mancini was a boxer, I liked the Warren Zevon song about him, and I thought Boom Boom rolled off the tongue as in, “Come here, Boom Boom.”
As you can imagine, my wife and kids hated the name so I would need to go in a different direction.
When my wife was pregnant with my daughters, we had lots of discussions about names. I suggested if we had twin boys they would be named Angus and Hannibal.
I thought they were the perfect names. Angus recognized my Scottish heritage, and was a nod to both a character from the movie The Highlander, and the guitar player from AC/DC.
Hannibal was an obvious reference to the character from the movie, “The Silence of the Lambs.” Can you imagine, the Gerckens twins, Angus and Hannibal starring on the gridiron and being the big men on campus? I could.
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| Potential dog names |
My wife and family did not find the humor in my name selections and in retrospect, Ashley and Brittany are the perfect names for my daughters. However, I was allowed to name the dog.
I still liked the name Angus and that’s what we ultimately named him. Not many people outside of our immediate family realize that we incorporated his given name “Prince” for formal occasions. His full name was Prince Angus of Derby.
I have so many memories of Angus. I feared he would never learn to walk because my girls would carry him everywhere.
One of the great things about Angus was that he was raised almost exclusively around children and especially little girls. He went to the youth soccer games and the cheerleading practices. We would try to sit quietly with him but ultimately the kids playing or cheering had trouble focusing when Angus was around.
Angus loved food, especially cheese. He could hear a cheese wrapper from a block away. Whenever we wanted him by our side, we would crinkle a cheese wrapper and he’ would come running.
When he was brought home he was taught he couldn’t eat until I released him. I would place cheese or bacon in his bowl, and he would just sit there drooling until I clapped my hands and released him. At least that part of his training went well.
When he was very young, we took him to dog obedience training. This was an absolute waste of money. Angus loved other dogs and was always stepping out of line to play with the others in his class. He kind of reminded me of me when I was in school. He was bright, but was more interested in having fun, yet somehow he managed to pass the class.
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| Some puppy time with the girls |
As Angus grew, he became incredibly powerful. In fact, he became so strong that we had to purchase a Gentle Leader collar for him so Patsy and the girls could control him better. This was highlighted one night when I drove down the driveway. Patsy had him on his regular leash.
Can anyone guess what happens when the man (as in man’s best friend) comes home from work and gets his pal overly excited? I can. Let me describe what happened. I rolled down the window as I passed Patsy and Angus and yelled, “Where’s my good boy”, as I drove down the driveway.
Angus looked up, saw it was me, and started in a full sprint to greet me at the bottom of the driveway. There was just one small problem...Patsy didn’t have time to let go of the leash and she was pulled down unintentionally as Angus came to greet me. Lesson learned. It would be the Gentle Leader for him when he was walked by the rest of the household.
It has been said there are two types of dogs in the world with regards to skunks. Those who get sprayed once and learn their lesson, and those who don’t. Angus was squarely in the don’t category. He must have been sprayed six or seven times in his life and if given the chance, I’m sure he would do it again. He didn’t seem to care for skunks.
He wasn’t crazy about deer either. Since we live next door to a state park, our yard was constantly being used as a trail by the many deer who frequent the area. If he was in the house he would bark and throw himself at the picture window (which in our house is dog height).
When we walked the trails of Osbornedale, we would keep him off leash unless other people were around. Many times, we would stumble on a herd of deer and off he’d go. He’d never catch them but boy would he try. He’d then come back panting and belly flop in the streams and mud that dot the park.
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| I got my eye on you |
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| Not on my watch |
Despite being outwardly fearsome looking, he was the most gentle creature. Others would often go to the other side of the street when they saw us walking, but little did they know that Angus was more likely to lick you to death with that huge tongue of his than show any aggression.
I have no doubt, however, that Angus would protect my family. As my daughters were getting older and we began to go out for a couple of hours, it was reassuring to know that Angus was in the house.
Yes, Angus was a good boy who put up with a lot. He was dressed up, poked, prodded, and awakened by countless teenage girls during slumber parties and always took it with a grain of salt.
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| You think you're so smart |
Our research indicated the life expectancy of Boxers can be anywhere from eight to twelve years. We knew that his twelfth birthday would be coming soon but his regular visits to the vet indicated he was in fairly good health.
He had two health issues that seemed to be getting worse. He had developed a gum disease that apparently affects Boxers. His gums had become red and swollen. The fix would have been to give him anesthesia and let a vet oral surgeon cut away the swollen gums. We declined because he was getting old and weren’t crazy about having him knocked out for the procedure.
So he lived with the swollen gums, since they didn't interfere with his eating.
The other issue was he was starting to drag one of his hind legs. We stopped taking him for long walks because we noticed after the long walks he would limp for a day or two.
An x-ray indicated he was developing arthritis in his hind legs and spine.
When my daughters returned from college for their Christmas break, he was ecstatic. He licked them and they made a big fuss over him. While they were home, he would casually climb onto the couch and sit on them. I was in disbelief because this was forbidden. I would yell at him but he’d just look at me as if to say, “What are you going to do, I’m old.”
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| Shocking everyone by sitting on the couch |
Upon reflection, I have this beautiful image of my old dog sitting on the couch with my wife and daughters as they watched television on a cold December night with the fire glowing.
On Christmas, he was the same old boy. We always gave him a squeaky toy and we filmed him as he took his gift from under the tree and tore the wrapping paper to shreds. Once he succeeded he would pounce at the toy causing it to squeak. This was always a highlight of our Christmases.
On the Friday night before Martin Luther King Day, we gathered the family together to have pizza and say goodbye to our girls since we would be taking them back to college. Angus was in the other room sleeping as we laughed and shared stories.
When it came time for pizza, I called for Angus to have some pizza crust. Some people argue that the crust of a pizza is the best part. I’m not one of those people. I had been giving Angus my pizza crust for over ten years. He expected it and I never failed to disappoint him.
I was sitting at a wooden bar stool and called, “Come here Angus. Do you want some crust?”
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| Feeling Stronger every day |
He woke from the other room and staggered his way into the kitchen. He walked by me. “Hey what are you doing? Over here,” I said holding the crust in front of me. He turned towards me.
He looked dopey as if he were just awakened from a sound sleep. I held the crust and he opened his mouth and bit onto a portion of the wooden stool I was sitting on. “What are you doing dummy, over here,” I said as I moved the crust closer. Again he bit onto the wooden stool.
“Oh my God, I don’t think he could see,” I whispered to myself for fear of alarming anyone. I touched his nose with the crust and he gobbled it right up.
By now everyone had stopped their conversations and were looking at Angus.
Needless to say, the party became a downer and there were lots of tears. We decided to take Angus to the animal ER facility.
The vet confirmed that Angus was blind. In my wildest dreams I couldn’t believe how the dog who had been playing with the girls all day and who was going up and down stairs with me the night before had lost his sight.
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| Love snow, hate gloves |
On Sunday, I had to take Brittany back to Syracuse. I decided to go alone so Patsy would be with our newly blind dog. She called her brother, Tom to help her with Angus while I was away. I drove to Syracuse in just under four hours, said goodbye to Brittany and returned just in time to hear the Minneapolis Miracle on our vans’ staticky AM radio somewhere near Otis, Massachusetts.
We made an appointment with a veterinary ophthalmologist for the following Thursday. During that four day period we were amazed at how Angus had taken it all in stride. He was negotiating his way around the house. He would go from our bedroom to the living room and to his food and water by walking gingerly and using a heightened sense of touch.
If I opened the refrigerator for a snack he would get up from wherever he was and find his way to me for a treat. A friend gave us some ramps so Angus could get out of the house and walk down the two steps to get off our deck into the yard to relieve himself.
Soon he didn’t like the ramps and would carefully step down and then step back up the steps on the deck. He was dealing with his blindness in a way that amazed us all. By the time we went for his eye appointment the vet commented on how well he was doing.
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| Time for One Tree Hill |
His eye tests confirmed that he was blind and there was no chance for him to regain his eyesight. Further tests showed that the sudden blindness was most likely the result of something neurological (perhaps a brain tumor, stroke, or some other ugly disease). This would only be confirmed by an MRI. The vet also concluded that his weakening hind legs were the result of the canine version of ALS. There was no cure and eventually he would lose the use of his hind legs, front legs, and then he'd be paralyzed. This was all happening so quickly.
We decided to have a consultation with a veterinary neurologist and she confirmed that he had some serious health issues that only an MRI would be able to confirm the source of the problems. She said at his age, the MRI would really only provide answers to us and wouldn’t do too much for Angus.
She told us to expect seizures and painted a dim future for my little guy. Still he persevered. Thank goodness my brother-in-law, Tom stayed over and took care of Angus while Patsy and I were at work.
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| Thinks he's a lap dog |
On the Saturday before the Super Bowl, some close friends came by and they brought one of his canine pals who Angus always tormented. Angus had to have all of the attention. If we pet another dog, he would use his nose to push the other dog out of the way. If we wanted to give a treat to the other dog, Angus would take the treat forcing us to slip the treat to the other dog when he wasn’t looking.
This time, he seemed a little excited and tried to smell his lady friend, but soon lost interest and lay on his pillow.
During the Super Bowl, he was barking when he needed attention. It seemed like he wanted to be reassured that we were there...we were.
On the Monday after the Super Bowl, he couldn’t get up. This resulted in us carrying him outside a dozen or so times for him to relieve himself. He was still eating and drinking.
On Tuesday, I made the difficult call to my children and told them that it seemed like Angus wouldn’t be with us much longer and that I was going to need to make a tough decision. Everyone wept and the girls wanted to come home and be here to say goodbye. I called the vet and made an appointment for Saturday morning.
Late Tuesday night, Angus started to have seizures. At midnight he was loaded into our van and taken to the Animal ER. He was stabilized and I was weighing my options. I called Patsy and told her it was time to do what needed to be done. “But what about the girls, they wanted to say goodbye,” she asked. “The girls will get over it,” I replied.
Ultimately, we decided to let him stay in the ER for the night and asked for them to keep him comfortable. Hopefully, he would make it through the night and we would see how quickly we could get the girls home.
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| I can't smile for the camera, what if a deer sneaks up on us? |
The next day, my wife and I picked up Ashley from school and we went to visit him. He had made it through the night and was going to come home with us. We carried him out in a blanket and loaded him into the car. He was home.
I called Brittany and told her I didn’t know if he was going to be able to hang in there until Saturday. By now it was snowing in Connecticut and there was a blizzard going on in Syracuse. We thought of putting Brittany on a plane or a train, but realizing there would be delays, I hopped in the van with my brother-in-law and drove to Syracuse. Once there, we picked her up and headed back to Connecticut. We arrived home just after midnight.
The girls were able to spend Thursday with Angus. During the day they took turns lifting him outside but he would pee all over himself and whoever was lifting him. He was breathing harder and was only eating or drinking if his food or his water bowl were held in front of his face. I brought him inside after another unsuccessful peeing adventure and placed him in the tub. We ran some warm water over him and the girls took turns bathing and shampooing him. I placed him in his doggie bed which was surrounded by the girls' and Patsy’s sleeping bags.
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| The final bath given by those he loved |
Friday morning, I called the veterinarian and asked if we could move his appointment up. He wasn't eating or drinking now, and we didn't know if he would make it one more day. It was time to say our goodbyes.
I left work and picked up my boy for the final time. We carried him outside and placed him gently into my truck. The girls joined me for the ride while Tom whispered something private into his ears.
We carried him through a back door of the veterinarian’s office and waited for Patsy to arrive. When she arrived, the process of what we were about to witness was explained and we had a few family moments with him. A catch phrase I will always remember was my daughters whispering in his ears that he was the best doggie ever. We kissed him and hugged him and watched him as the aides prepared him.
The assistants left and while we waited for the vet to come in I pointed to what seemed to be a single tear rolling out of his eye. I don’t know if dogs shed tears or not (my gut tells me they do not) but I pointed it out to my wife and daughters. In all likelihood it was simply some type of discharge running out of his eye, but we know what it looked like to us.
The vet came in and as she was about to set the needle into his forepaw, he made a quick movement as if to give one last fight against what we all knew was coming. Each of us grabbed a body part and held him and whispered our love for him as the vet plunged the contents of the syringe into his vein.
Within five seconds, the great Prince Angus of Derby lay motionless.
It’s been a few days since we said goodbye to our dear family member. Life goes on but I have to admit there’s an emptiness in our house. The girls are back at college. We drove Ashley back to Sacred Heart and continued up to Syracuse with Brittany. When we arrived back home, there was no head popping up at the picture window as we drove down the driveway There was no full body wag to greet us when we climbed up the stairs.
We looked around and saw his empty bed and food and water bowls. When I snuck up to take a little late night snack before bed, there wasn’t that familiar droopy face with the saddest eyes you could imagine looking back at me as if to say, “hey, what about me, big guy? Got any pepperoni for me? I’m starving over here.”
The first morning without Angus was the hardest. It didn’t matter how tired he was, he would get up and he would watch me intently as I made breakfast. There were many mornings when I would tell Patsy that Angus likes his eggs over hard with the yolk broken.
Time has a way of healing all things. Unfortunately, with the passage of time, memories fade. I wanted to write down some details before they were gone forever. As I sit here and try to come up with something clever to end this narrative, the only phrase that plays over and over again in my mind remains, “Angus, you were the best doggie ever.”
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| Our family |
