Good-bye And Thank You

My buddy

By Kevin Woo for Brian Grant Parkinson’s Foundation

July 25th sucked. I had to put my dogs, Jack and Daisy, down. We were together for 14 years. What were the odds that I’d lose both of my dogs on the same day. They were the only dogs my kids had ever known. My kids were in the homicide room when the vet said, “He’s gone” and “She’s gone.” It was heart wrenching to see the kids draped over their dogs feeling pain that they’ll never forget.

The night before Jack and Daisy crossed the rainbow bridge we ordered in pizza. Jack and Daisy loved pizza crust. Pizza was our way of saying thank you for all the years of devotion and loyalty. It was also our way of saying good-bye. Three kids, two dogs and me sitting around the coffee table talking about our memories. Neither Jack nor Daisy acted sick but I knew it was time.

On the morning of the dual homicide Jack and Daisy hopped in the car as usual, not knowing what faced them. Thirty minutes later they were dead. How do you wrap your mind around that? The answer is simple – you don’t.

I’m a dog person. I love everything about them. I stop and talk to random dogs and accept kisses from anyone who will hand them out.

My kids began to worry about me after Jack and Daisy were gone. “What will dad do when we go home to Seattle if he doesn’t have a dog? Will he become a shut in? Will he be too depressed to go look for a new friend?”

Daisy eating her last meal. Her favorite pizza crust.

Kyra, the oldest, took it upon herself to scout out the local area to see what dogs were available. Generally they fell into one of three categories – designer dogs for whom you pay big bucks; older dogs who are likely to have health issues; or kennel dogs who are wild cards.

We visited a number of dogs. I found a dog named Dutch who I liked a lot. He was a handsome mix of labrador and shepherd. He was a big, strong, loving dog. He was also a lot to handle. Kyra pulled me aside and asked, “Dad, are you really going to be able to handle Dutch if he takes off after something?”

She had a good point. My gait is bad on a good day and running isn’t something I’ve done in a few years.

We walked away from Dutch and held a family meeting. I laid down the ground rules – anyone who thinks I won’t be safe with a specific dog had veto power. No questions asked, no debate. One veto and that was the end of consideration.

Pinkie swear.

We finally settled on a dog named “Fern” who I renamed Amanda. She’s a Belgian Malinois, a type of shepherd. The local humane society told us she was a mutt and relatively calm. That wasn’t exactly right. She has no off switch. When she’s good she’s not tearing up my house. When she’s bad she’s tearing up my house. She’s easy to train and learns commands easily unless she’s bored.

Amanda doesn’t like other dogs and makes her contempt known. It’s embarrassing. The first week she was home she took off after another dog, I lost my footing and was pulled through the mud.

She’s also fiercely loyal. If anyone gets within 10 feet of us she lets them know that they’re stepping into the danger threshold.

Amanda is hard to handle. To avoid confrontations with other dogs I drive her to an empty office park to pee and poo and we work on drills. One recent Saturday we walked 3.4 miles in an empty parking lot (we did this over several trips).

One friend of mine said that Amanda is the best thing that could have happened to me. She forces me to get out of the house and walk several miles a day everyday.

Some well-meaning friends have suggested that maybe a cocker or doodle would make my life easier. To each person who has made this suggestion I’ve said, “I am not a quitter.” I am determined to turn Amanda into a great dog.

It’s possible that Amanda will outlive me. I’ve made my kids promise not to give her away. No matter how stubborn she is, no matter how many pillows she tears apart, she’s a good dog. And once she’s trained, she’ll be a great dog.

My kids wavered a bit when I said I wanted them to care for Amanda should anything happen to me. I reminded them that I hold veto power.

To Jack and Daisy – thank you for 14-years of loyalty. You were there the day I was DX. We shared pizza as we tried to figure out what it all meant. That’s my fondest memory.Keep moving.