A Reintroduction

This is my dog, Rush

Many of the people who read this blog have met him. He's a wonderful dog. Even "cat people" like me think he's great...for a dog. Rush is a golden retriever who is gun-shy, vacuum cleaner-shy, thunder-shy, and fiercely protective of our family.

Rush sleeps at the end of the hall every night...but only after everyone has gone to bed. If I get up in the middle of the night, he follows me and settles at my feet until I go back to bed. One day, Andy left for work dressed in full motorcycle gear - back when he had a motorcycle - but he forgot something. He came back into the house not thinking anything about it. Rush thought something, though. Rush thought an intruder had come to hurt his family. He took up a posture in the middle of the hall, bared his teeth, raised his hackles, and growled at Andy.Guess who was unnerved by that? Andy slowly removed his helmet and gloves so Rush could identify him.

Isn't he a great dog?

When Pat and Shannon were much younger, Rush would play-wrestle with them. He was extremely gentle. However, when Andy was the wrestle-buddy, Rush would go at him full strength. It would exasperate Pat to no end! One day he stood up and declared, "I want Rush to play with me the way he plays with Dad!" That didn't happen until much later. By the time Pat was as large as Andy, Rush was too old to wrestle as roughly as he used to and Pat wasn't as interested in dog-wrestling as he had been when he was younger. Oh, and when Andy and one of the kids would go at it, Rush would stand close by, 90% certain it was play but not sure who to protect/defend. There was one time when, in Rush's mind, Andy got a little rough with one of the kids. He emitted a warning bark/growl. Don't make the dog choose. He'll defend the underdog.

Speaking of underdogs, when we brought home Luke, that's exactly what he was. Luke was about 3 weeks old when we brought him home from a roadside ditch. The other two cats were not very happy about this little black ball that could disappear on the couch. No, really. If he curled up on the couch, we couldn't see him and would spend several minutes searching and calling for Luke! Anyway, Nikki, the dominant cat, took to hugging walls and hissing and spitting every time Luke came her way. It was friggin hilarious. Nikki had made Merckx's (pronounced "mercks") life miserable by forcing her to take second place, but ole Nick couldn't handle a teeny fuzz ball! Merckx, on the other hand, was much wiser. She was the the old lady of the pack and as such had been around the block a few times. Whenever Luke would rush at her to play, Merckx would simply clothesline him. I kid you not. She would throw up an arm and put that honery boy to ground every time.

Luke had no one to turn to except Rush. Rush became Luke's littermate, daddy, and friend. They would sleep together, Luke curled up between Rush's paws. When Luke wanted to cat fight, Rush would literally let Luke win! Luke would tear the ever-livin mess out of Rush and Rush would take it! Until Luke got older. Rush is just a really good dog like that. He even lets Luke eat out of his bowl with him at the same time, allowing Luke to dip his head into the bowl to get a bite, then patiently waits for Luke to back off before taking a bite for himself.

I know most of you have heard these Rush stories before. Tonight, I have an overwhelming need to put them into "print"...into the air out there...because Rush...is not going to be with us much longer. The best we can figure, he is 14 or 15 years old and it is becoming evident ...painfully evident...that Rush is tired. Too tired. I have my doubts as to whether he will last the week.

Consider this entry a tribute. A eulogy. A sign of respect for a terrific dog and friend. I love you, Rush-puppy. I have never had a dog like you ~ and can not imagine ever again finding one nearly as noble and magnificent.