BeeKool
Well-Known Member
I'm started this thread as a tribute to all dogs. Please add your own stories to it. No matter how old. Pics are nice.
I've been blessed with several dogs in my lifetime. Loved them all. Some were more endeared than others. I've had 3 that could be considered "the One." This is the story behind the original one in my life. The dog that showed me that Dogs are part of man's soul and that "the world knows no greater love than that of a dog for his master."
The year was 1992. It was early summer and school had just let out. Summers for me involved lots of miserable work for pitiful pay, but we're still better than school. After 12 hrs or so of work each day I relaxed by tearing around the countryside on my dirtbike. A 74 Yamaha MX. Lots of fun. One day at dusk as I was heading back to the house from the shop my dad pulled up in the tractor, he waived for me to get in. I did, and to my surprise he handed me a cute little puppy he had found out in the cornfield while spraying.
I took the pup to the house and fed him, (we had a dog already so we had food).
The pup was obviously hungry, he ate until he looked like a beach ball.
The next day I went and found the pup, he was waiting outside to play. My dad had decided to name him King, after a dog his Uncle had in the 50s. King was a German Shepherd/Rottweiler mix. This I know because I knew his parents, and their owners the dirty neighbor people. King had a new home.
One day shortly after his arrival, my dad and I were moving the cattle from one pasture to the next. This involved running them through a bottleneck. As we were doing this I noticed King had followed us and was about to get trampled, without thinking I sprinted and scooped him up without missing a step just before he was trampled, very nearly getting smashed myself in the process. King would return the favor later in life.
Life moved on King grew up and I grew as well. He had become an exceptional farm dog. He kept the coyotes away, kept the coons out of the sweet corn, kept the jehovah witnesses away. When we shelled corn, he would be in the crib killing rats. When I used the skid loader, he would keep the hogs from escaping when I went in and out.
I cold winter night I had finished cleaning the hog house. I was in the loft above scooping down corncobs for bedding. I must have slipped and fallen down the 8 feet to the pavement. When I came to, I was surrounded by sows but my best bud King was there keeping them away. I was only out for a minute or 2. But hogs are mean brutal creatures, King had kept them away. And I had only a large lump on my head to show. He had somehow managed to cut his leg jumping in the pen to help me out of the jam. It would require 15 stitches and would leave a scar. Whenever I saw that scar I was reminded of Kings selflessness.
Years passed by, King was there earning his place at the table day in and day out. This runaway runt had become something beyond description.
Our way of farming changed and Kings life became much more relaxed. I had grown up and King had grown old. In the meanwhile I had moved to town and only made it to the farm once a month or so.
One day my mom called me, King was sick. They had taken him to the vet, gotten meds but they weren't working. A week later I visited again and hardly recognized King. He was skin and bones and had gone blind. When he smelled me he wagged his tail despite being almost too weak to stand. I've worked with animals my whole life, I know when they are going to die. Kings life had but a few hours.
I called the vet but he was on vacation. Sadly it would be up to me. I picked King up and set him on a blanket outside in the sun. It was an unusually warm February day. I went to the shop with tears in my eye got a pick axe and a shovel. Went out to the Grove and dug a grave waistedeep in the frozen dirt. Got my Ruger Mark 1 pistol with a magazine full of CCI ammo. Made sure it worked. Then I scribbled a few paragraphs onto a piece of paper. A poem for my friend. I buried the paper in the bottom of the grave and placed a blanket in the bottom. Now time for the hard part...
I returned to get King and carry him to the grave and discovered that he was gone.. Nowhere to be found.. I searched for 30 minutes could not find him... Sadly I returned to the grave to get the shovel and pick axe and return them to the shed.
That's where I found him. Right next to the grave I had dug. With his last bit of life and totally blind, King had found his way to the grave and died. His last gift to me was his greatest. He spared me the pain of having to put him down. It was Feb 10 2005. I was almost 25. King was about 13.
Kings life was one most dogs would envy. No leashes chains or fences. He sired 2 litters of puppies. He brought joy to a family. He taught me that there is nothing beyond a dog and his master. I have a few pictures of King, but they are 35mm and Polaroids. I need only close my eyes and he is right there in my sights. I could write a book but it's been done. Thus may sound like Old Yeller or Where the Red Fern Grows Those stories were obviously true. I'm sure many of us have similar stories. What's great is that King was only the first "The One."
He can never be replaced but surprisingly I have other buds that are every bit as smart and loving and also good enough to be "The one".
To those still mourning a friend lost years ago..... do not be afraid to get another friend. You will find that with time and love and dedication.... dogs are a reflection of their owners.
I've been blessed with several dogs in my lifetime. Loved them all. Some were more endeared than others. I've had 3 that could be considered "the One." This is the story behind the original one in my life. The dog that showed me that Dogs are part of man's soul and that "the world knows no greater love than that of a dog for his master."
The year was 1992. It was early summer and school had just let out. Summers for me involved lots of miserable work for pitiful pay, but we're still better than school. After 12 hrs or so of work each day I relaxed by tearing around the countryside on my dirtbike. A 74 Yamaha MX. Lots of fun. One day at dusk as I was heading back to the house from the shop my dad pulled up in the tractor, he waived for me to get in. I did, and to my surprise he handed me a cute little puppy he had found out in the cornfield while spraying.
I took the pup to the house and fed him, (we had a dog already so we had food).
The pup was obviously hungry, he ate until he looked like a beach ball.
The next day I went and found the pup, he was waiting outside to play. My dad had decided to name him King, after a dog his Uncle had in the 50s. King was a German Shepherd/Rottweiler mix. This I know because I knew his parents, and their owners the dirty neighbor people. King had a new home.
One day shortly after his arrival, my dad and I were moving the cattle from one pasture to the next. This involved running them through a bottleneck. As we were doing this I noticed King had followed us and was about to get trampled, without thinking I sprinted and scooped him up without missing a step just before he was trampled, very nearly getting smashed myself in the process. King would return the favor later in life.
Life moved on King grew up and I grew as well. He had become an exceptional farm dog. He kept the coyotes away, kept the coons out of the sweet corn, kept the jehovah witnesses away. When we shelled corn, he would be in the crib killing rats. When I used the skid loader, he would keep the hogs from escaping when I went in and out.
I cold winter night I had finished cleaning the hog house. I was in the loft above scooping down corncobs for bedding. I must have slipped and fallen down the 8 feet to the pavement. When I came to, I was surrounded by sows but my best bud King was there keeping them away. I was only out for a minute or 2. But hogs are mean brutal creatures, King had kept them away. And I had only a large lump on my head to show. He had somehow managed to cut his leg jumping in the pen to help me out of the jam. It would require 15 stitches and would leave a scar. Whenever I saw that scar I was reminded of Kings selflessness.
Years passed by, King was there earning his place at the table day in and day out. This runaway runt had become something beyond description.
Our way of farming changed and Kings life became much more relaxed. I had grown up and King had grown old. In the meanwhile I had moved to town and only made it to the farm once a month or so.
One day my mom called me, King was sick. They had taken him to the vet, gotten meds but they weren't working. A week later I visited again and hardly recognized King. He was skin and bones and had gone blind. When he smelled me he wagged his tail despite being almost too weak to stand. I've worked with animals my whole life, I know when they are going to die. Kings life had but a few hours.
I called the vet but he was on vacation. Sadly it would be up to me. I picked King up and set him on a blanket outside in the sun. It was an unusually warm February day. I went to the shop with tears in my eye got a pick axe and a shovel. Went out to the Grove and dug a grave waistedeep in the frozen dirt. Got my Ruger Mark 1 pistol with a magazine full of CCI ammo. Made sure it worked. Then I scribbled a few paragraphs onto a piece of paper. A poem for my friend. I buried the paper in the bottom of the grave and placed a blanket in the bottom. Now time for the hard part...
I returned to get King and carry him to the grave and discovered that he was gone.. Nowhere to be found.. I searched for 30 minutes could not find him... Sadly I returned to the grave to get the shovel and pick axe and return them to the shed.
That's where I found him. Right next to the grave I had dug. With his last bit of life and totally blind, King had found his way to the grave and died. His last gift to me was his greatest. He spared me the pain of having to put him down. It was Feb 10 2005. I was almost 25. King was about 13.
Kings life was one most dogs would envy. No leashes chains or fences. He sired 2 litters of puppies. He brought joy to a family. He taught me that there is nothing beyond a dog and his master. I have a few pictures of King, but they are 35mm and Polaroids. I need only close my eyes and he is right there in my sights. I could write a book but it's been done. Thus may sound like Old Yeller or Where the Red Fern Grows Those stories were obviously true. I'm sure many of us have similar stories. What's great is that King was only the first "The One."
He can never be replaced but surprisingly I have other buds that are every bit as smart and loving and also good enough to be "The one".
To those still mourning a friend lost years ago..... do not be afraid to get another friend. You will find that with time and love and dedication.... dogs are a reflection of their owners.
