Lance

Hoping to have retained at least one or two loyal followers, allow me a moment to update you. Since we last wrote/read I have completed my “Big Adventure”: an around the country cross-country in which I landed in each of the lower 48 states at least once and completed six days of storm chasing in Texas. You may have followed me along on Facebook...or maybe not. Nevertheless, I’m back, rested, and ready to resume my place at the keyboard.

There are a few changes to my madness, though. First of all, no more deadlines. For the past 3+ years I have striven to maintain a Sunday night/Monday morning deadline for my weekly “column”. Now, I will write when the spirit moves me, but no more than twice a week and no less than once every two weeks. I want to neither inundate you nor starve you and feel this may be the best way in seeking the elusive happy medium.

Additionally, I will no longer refer to my effort as a column simply because it isn’t nor am I a columnist. A columnist, you see, writes in a given, cleansed way that is suitable for mass dissemination and is compensated for the effort. While I have tried to promote that facade, I now admit to my limitations in both scope and recompense. As such, expletives are no longer taboo when I feel they add to the discussion. No gratuitous profanity, but rather a bit of spice to the recipe. I trust you will find both changes acceptable.

Having dispensed with the formalities, allow me to turn to a more timely matter...

Dogs have been a major part of my life. I had a Collie (Lassie) as a boy and, after a lengthy absence for college and the Air Force, adopted a Collie rescue (Maggie Mae) in 1987. Since then I have had a Collie in my life. Until four days ago, that is.

During Maggie Mae’s tenure I acquired another Collie: Lad. The timing was a little off, but I had formed a relationship with a renowned Collie breeder in Northern California (Mary Wells of Blossom Hills Collies). One of her bitches had a litter of 10 in late 1992 and she asked if I was interested in one of her blue merle rough males. I was in the first stages of moving to Northern California and had planned on getting a second dog after relocating. And a male was in my plans so as to have a Collie named Lad.

“Lad:A Dog” is a children’s book written by Albert Payson Terhune and was based on an actual dog who lived in the early 1900’s in Pompton Lakes, New Jersey. I must’ve read that book a dozen times as a kid and then, after stumbling upon Terhune’s sequel “The Further Adventures of Lad”, read that one a dozen times more. It simply made sense to pay homage to the Lad of literature and so the new, blue Lad came into my life.

Maggie grew old gracefully, but by early 1997 her quality of life had diminished to the point where my wife and I felt it in her best interest to put her down. Our vet, Bob Atton, came to our home and we held her, said our goodbyes, and shed our tears as she quietly slipped away from us.

Lad carried on the tradition nobly until, on July 6th, 2001 he died suddenly at the early age of 8 1/2. I was not home at the time and can still vividly recall the phone call from my wife. To this day I recoil when my phone rings while away from home. 

At the time, we also had a Yellow Labrador Retriever: Riley. More my wife’s dog, Riley was unable to fill Lad’s shoes when it came to companionship and soon after his passing I was open to the possibility of giving a new Collie a home. Of course, no one animal could take Lad’s place, but I was willing to consider the possibility of a “substitute”. 

By that time, we had become good friends with our Collie breeder, Mary, and she offered a year old sable male, Lance. We traveled to her home for a first-hand look. It was no surprise to me that Lance, while handsome in his own right, could not hold a candle to the image Lad had built in my heart and my head. But I thought it was worth a shot and when I asked Mary about the purchase price I was stunned by her response: nothing...take him home,,,see how he fits in and if all is good, keep him.

The first week was Hell! Lance would pace through the night, looking at the ceiling and barking. My only respite was a three day trip, but my wife endured every night. After a week we voted to return him to Mary and chalk the experiment up to nothing but a good effort. The day we were to drive him back we went to a nearby town to run some errands. Upon returning to our car it would not start. Nothing...Zip. By the time we called a tow truck and got back home it was too late to drive the 2 1/2 hours to Mary’s even if we had an operational vehicle. Since this was a Friday, we would have to wait until Monday at the earliest to return Lance.

Suddenly, the pacing stopped. And the barking stopped, too. It was as though Lad (Lance’s uncle) had returned to advise him of how bad he was fucking up a good thing. By Monday, Lance was a new dog. And, strangely enough, the mechanic could find nothing wrong with our car. Make of that what you will, but I have my theory.

For the next 11 years, Lance served faithfully as my stalwart companion. His thyroid required meds (nothing new to Collies) and he had some kidney failure in the latter stages of his life. Through it all, he was the constant in my daily routine. We had other dogs and cats, but Lance was the senior member and enjoyed all the perks of such a position.

When I departed on my Big Adventure (May 1st), his health was suspect. Nearly blind and hard of hearing, he had taken to snoozing through most of the day and I had no reason to believe that he would be alive upon my return. So I hugged him and kissed him goodbye as if we would not see each other again all the while hoping that he would find a way to maintain.

I got home last Tuesday to find him rail thin. My wife said his eating had become more sporadic than usual (he was never a ravenous eater) and that his pacing had become the norm. Apparently, it was hard for him to stand and hard for him to lie down. I weighed him on Wednesday to find that he had shed 20% of his weight in the last two months. Basically, he was wasting away in front of us and to allow this to continue was unconscionable.

I made the call to our vet, affectionately referred to as Dr. Jan, and told her of our decision. My main concern was allowing him to pass in a setting other than a stainless steel examination table. Dr. Jan said that we could work that out and the appointment was made for the next day.

In circumstances like these, one can feel like the executioner awaiting the carrying out of the sentence. Having been faced with a similar situation with Maggie Mae, I knew this was but an opportunity to embrace our beloved partner one last time. We fed him scrambled eggs, chicken, and steak. Sadly, his appetite had waned to the point where even these delicacies did not evoke significant interest. He slept next to me in bed for several hours that last night until we both became too warm. And the morning routine was as normal as it could have been.

We drove to Dr. Jan’s office and laid in the grass out front. She came out and gave Lance a brief examination before confirming our lay-diagnosis. It was time for him to be at rest. After a sedative, she injected the solution that would stop his heart and bring his fight against the indignities of old age to an end. We cried as he passed and I am shedding tears as I write this. While my head was prepared for this moment, the heart never is and it matters not whether the patient is an animal or human. The finality of death, even under the most humane circumstances, takes an emotional toll. 

Even though we still have 3 dogs in our menagerie, the loss of Lance is deep and cannot be filled by a surrogate. Yes, we will heal and move on, but we will always remember him as well as all others we have lost: a unique, irreplaceable individual. There are those we describe as something other than “dog people” who may read this and wonder why it’s such a big deal. I can’t (nor will I even try to) explain such a loss to them for they simply do not get it. I think of them as young souls who have yet to appreciate the unconditional love a canine brings to a relationship. After all, shouldn’t we all strive to be as forgiving? Maybe in time, as their own soul ages, but in the meantime I can only shrug and shake my head.

And since I’m waxing theologically, I believe in one thing after death: the Rainbow Bridge. Google it if you’re curious, but I assure you that most “dog people” are fully aware of its existence and believe in it, too. Let me just say that it is a place where I will be reunited with the dogs of my earthly life after I die. Crazy? Well, if you’ve ever experienced the joy a dog can bring into your life you know that it just wouldn’t be Heaven without them.

I sense one more Collie in my future: a tri-color rough male named Payson. I’ve never had a tri and paying tribute to the author that so enriched my life is a no-brainer. Not today or tomorrow, but someday, hopefully. 

Either way, such thoughts are for another time. This time belongs to Lance: much more than a mere substitute. A noble companion in his own right and without peer. Rest easy, my dear friend. We will meet again...