I have had three dogs during my life. All of them came to me after being married. I have written about Milhous quite a bit, Rudy several times, and Dutch just a couple of times. All three were named after Presidents of these United States. Milhous named for President Nixon, Rudy for President Ford and Dutch was named for President Reagan.
Milhous was the protector. Rudy was the athlete. Dutch I think could best be described as the companion and caregiver. Dutch took to his role very well.
By the time we got Dutch in 2007 Barbara had learned how to train a dog very well. It took her no time at all to house train Dutch. She was able to teach him little tricks younger than the other two had learned. For those who spent a bit of time with the three of them, it would be obvious that both Milhous and Dutch were very bright while Rudy kind of lacked the self discipline to apply his intelligence. (Kind of like their individual namesakes now that I think about it).
Dutch was the most laid backed of the three. Mailmen never bothered Dutch that much. Friends entering the house for the first time would get maybe one bark from him then suffer the constant attention seeking that he craved so badly. He was the kisser of the three. He would lick your hand for as long as you could tolerate it. He also expected to be petted more as well. That was about the only thing that he required forcefully.
He had one toy. Actually we got him plenty of toys but only one toy was his go to. It is a softball sized orange rubber ball that seemed to be close to his proximity at all times. His choice of play with the ball was to walk up to you and dare you to try to take it away from him. After you managed that feat your job was to throw it. In the house it was down the hallway. Outside it was across the yard. He would always bring the ball back to you straight away and demand that it be thrown again. When he was younger he would play this game of fetch for hours. As he got older and tired easier, when he would bring the ball back he would walk right past you to the back door waiting to be let back in. He would kind of look up at you as he walked by as if to say "Well, I think you have had enough for today. Let's go in."
I don't have a lot of funny stories to relate about Dutch like I do the other two dogs. Dutch had his little quirks and did an unexpected thing once in while but nothing that stands out in my mind. He was a very laid back dog. He pretended to be tough while working his way to get petted. Our joke around the house was that if someone broke into the house while we were gone, Dutch would lay on the couch and watch letting them take anything but the couch and his ball. It wouldn't bother him a bit.
The one thing that I did that bothered Dutch a lot was when I would talk, telling a story to whoever was over. I tend to express myself with my hands, using them to emphasize what I am saying. To Dutch this was playtime for him. When my hands started moving around in gestures he would come over and jump up trying to grab my hands gently with his mouth and batting at them with his paws. He made it very difficult for me to talk at times. This was one of his things that always brought a smile to my face. At Christmas he would help all of us unwrap our presents trying to get in and rip the paper with his mouth and paws. He was so gentle, even when playing. He never hurt anybody.
What made Dutch so special to me, and I assume to Barb and Brett as well, was his companionship. He could always somehow know when I was getting ready to go somewhere. I kept his leash on a hook next to the front door. When he got the feeling I was heading out, he would walk over to his leash and just touch it with his nose, turn and look at me and nose the leash again. If it was a short quick trip his eyes would make me take him along for the ride. He absolutely loved riding in the car. He would sit in the passenger seat next to me and look intensely out of the windshield. When we got home I did not need to hold the leash to keep him from taking off. I would simply open the car door and he would jump out and casually walk up to the front door.
Dutch served as my alarm clock until well after I retired. I got up at 5:30 in the morning every work day and he latched onto that fact. He knew when it was time for me to get up and moving and would come into the room and start licking my hand or sticking his nose in my face until I woke up everyday including weekends.
Dutch proved his place in the family unlike the others had. When Barbara's body began to break down, Dutch became her constant companion. As her health continued to deteriorate, I moved into the spare room because any movement I made while sleeping would shoot pain up through her back. During this time Dutch sensing Barb's health stayed with her, sleeping on the floor next to her every night until 5:30 in the morning when he would walk over to wake me up. As her health continued to decline she began sleeping on the couch in the living room. It was closer to the floor than the bed and a lot closer to the bathroom. Once she moved to the couch, she slept there every night for the rest of her life. Dutch did the same. He took up sleeping on the floor next to the couch hoping Barb's hand would fall and land on him while she slept.
Dutch became Barbara's close companion. He always followed her around the house and parked himself next to her whether she was sitting in her chair or laying on the couch. He gave Barb companionship and comfort during those last few years. He was probably the best thing for her mental health during that time.
When I came home the evening of the day that she had passed I truly believe Dutch knew that things had changed. I sat in my chair trying to figure out what needed to be done. Who to contact, where to go, and open up that file that contained her funeral requests. As I sat in my chair absorbing all that had happened Dutch was laying on the floor at my feet. Every once in a while he would sit up and look at me and I would pat his head and then he would lay down again. That night when I went to bed, Dutch laid down next to the couch and slept there until 5:30 the next morning. I let him sleep there. It had been his sleep place for close to four years. It was where he felt he was supposed to be.
Dutch continued to sleep through the night next to the couch for about six months. Maybe he was hoping that she would return, I do not know. He was starting to get old about that time as well and was slowing down quite a bit. His rear joints were stiffening up on him. He was not able to run very well when he went outside. He was suddenly all by himself all day long while I was at work. I think Barbara's death effected him as much as anyone. After about six months I woke up early one morning and Dutch had slipped into my room during the night. He slowly switched from sleeping next to the couch to sleeping next to my bed.
After that we began to get very close. I felt closer to him than I had any other dog. He started following me again. We spent evenings together. We talked to each other as I thought things out. Well, I would talk and he would look at me knowingly to let me know I was on the right track. He had become my companion. My close companion. It became clear to me that he was there for me and he brought me much of that loving comfort that he had given Barb for all those years.
Dutch continued to age. Big dogs like Dutch usually have a lifespan of between 10 and 12 years, a little longer if lucky. Over the past year it had become painfully clear to me that Dutch was not going to last much longer. He began to sleep more and more. His mobility was extremely slow and it took him great effort to lay down or to stand up.
It was when he started having problems breathing that I began to think about his quality of life. He was not eating much, not drinking much and breathing was difficult. It finally became apparent to me that his quality of life was not good and so I called Dr. Lyle.
Dr. Lyle had been our vet for both Rudy and Dutch. He loved them both. When I took Dutch into his office that day, he knew it was not going to be easy for me. He had a good relationship with Barbara and was saddened when she passed. He helped me make sure I was taking care of Dutch the best I could since Barbara had died. He knew that Dutch was my only companion at home and he knew what a big loss this was going to be for me.
His diagnoses on Dutch was some kind of syndrome that large dogs often developed. His trachea was slowly becoming paralyzed and was effecting the the way his esophagus was performing. This was the cause of not being able to drink or eat and, of course, his breathing problem. Dr. Lyle agreed that his quality of life was very poor and that we were doing the right thing. I do believe he was just as sad as I was.
Brett had come with me that day. Brett and Dutch were best buds throughout Dutch's life. It effected Brett every bit as much as it effected me. We both knew things would never be the same without Dutch. We sat with Dutch as the injection took effect and took Dutch. Both of us gave him a pat on the head and we left.
The house is totally empty now except for me. It took me awhile to get use to Dutch not being there. I would be sitting and look around noticing Dutch wasn't there and would find myself starting to get up to let him from the outside only to realize he wasn't outside. He simply wasn't.
Dutch was special. He took care of the family as much as the family took care of him. He never caused us any trouble. He was the best behaved dog there was.
Dutch was indeed special. He is missed.
