REMEMBERING DUTCH

 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.

ONE YEAR AND THE PROGRESS MADE

It was July 23, 2018 when my wife of 42 years  left this world for the next.  At the time I had spent a week by her side while she lay in a coma.  God had given me the time to prepare for what I was about to go through.  A year ago last Sunday, on July 28, 2018, we laid Barbara to rest in a spot we had purchased when death was the furthest things from our minds in 1982.  It was the next day as I sat in my house alone for the first time that a new life began for me.  A life without Barbara.

As I sat there thinking the events of the last two weeks and the last 42 years over I realized I was not ready for this new style of living.  I didn't want this new style of living.  I wanted my Barbie back.  The reality of her no longer being with me hurt like nothing I had ever experienced before.  I did not think I was capable of taking care of things the Barb had.  I did not know how to pay bills electronically.  I did not know so many things about what Barb did during the day while I was at work to keep the house moving along in spite of her pain and fatigue.

I would learn though.  I had no choice but to learn.  I spent the better part of the year trying to straighten out her Social Security Disabled status and getting the billing for her hospital stay that week to the proper insurance companies.  It was frustrating.  It was hard.  On top of that I was still learning the workings of the house.  I had to learn the dog's daily schedule.  I had to remember to clean things once in awhile.  Apparently they just didn't get done by themselves.  It was during this time that I came to realize how dependent I truly was on Barbara for so many little things.  The time that it takes to get those little things taken care of add up quickly.  I am so very thankful that Lori was there on a daily basis to help Barbara and to keep an eye on her.  Lori allowed Barbara to do what she could so her self esteem would not drop but take over when Barbara could not do anymore each day.

It seemed that as each day passed without Barbara, my sadness and grief would grow.  For the past several years when I would come home from work each day, Barbara managed to get out of her chair and her and Dutch would go to the front door, open it up and greet me as I walked up the sidewalk.  I never realized how much that meant not only to me, but to Barbara as well.  It was something that she could do to make my day a little better after a rough day at the office.  Now as each day passed and I would come home from work walking up the sidewalk, the door would remain closed.  Dutch would be on the other side of that door waiting for it to open.  Each day as Dutch and I went through that new ritual I found myself missing Barbara just a little bit more.

As difficult as those things were, they were the easy part of learning a new life without Barbara.  The biggest event that happened was three months and two days later when my father was also called home.  When my grandfather and both my grandmothers had died, Barbara had been there to hold me up.  When my Uncle Danial passed away, who I had been so very close to, Barbara was there to hold me up.  When my sister Carol succumbed to cancer, again Barbara was there to hold me up.  Now daddy was gone and I sat at home by myself alone with not only the thoughts of Daddy, but missing the support that I always got from Barbara.  I went to Alabama to talk at dad's funeral service there and found myself looking for Barbara to talk to from the pulpit as I had at Dan's memorial service.  Barbara was not to be found though and I had an extremely difficult time getting through that talk without her.  It was the first time I had publicly spoken where I did not have an anchor to keep my emotions in check and I did not do very well.  I found myself looking at three faces to try to be that anchor, my nephew Bo, my niece Kimberly Joyce and my great niece Haylee.  However all three of those loving faces could not bring me the inner strength that the one face of Barbara had always brought to me.

I started writing this about a month ago.  I set it aside for a time in order to take a hard look at the progress I have made since July of 2018.  I think I have progressed fairly well.

Progress.  It has been small and slow steps.  I stop and think about it, and it is an entirely different life and lifestyle that I have never experienced before.  It has been a learning experience.

I have come to the point where I can look at pictures of Barbara and recall the memory that goes along with the picture.  I can remember it as a good memory and smile, enjoying the memory in the moment.  However, these moments are also still filled with sadness but it is no longer a crushing sadness of realizing she is gone.  It has morphed into a good sadness.  I can smile and still miss her.

That is the biggest part of my progress I guess.  Just being able to have memories and enjoy them a little along with the sadness.

I have begun to get out a little more instead of planting myself in the house.   I am getting more comfortable going to the grocery store and buying for one instead of two.  That is a more difficult than most people would realize.

Then there is the telephone situation.  I have not changed our outgoing message.  If you call me and I do not pick up, Barbara's voice will still explain that we are busy, please leave a message.  I am not sure if I want to change these recording or not.  On the one hand, I have a place that I can call and hear Barbara's voice whenever I want.  On the other hand, I have no idea how to change the messages.  This leads to my substantial progress in learning how to use the cell phone.  This piece of equipment was totally foreign to me.  I have learned over the last year how to actually use it in ways that help me get things done.  I have learned how to text, and I use to despise texting.  I have learned how to browse on it and how to use the calendar and clock.

The other side of progress on the phone is making phone calls.  I am not good at this.  I do not particularly like talking on the phone and I have a real problem making a phone call.  I can answer a call much easier than placing a call.  Anxiety over takes me when I try to do this.  For all those years I had Barbara there to take care of things over the phone.  She would make the calls and get things straightened out.  Now I have to do that myself.  I am getting better at it.  I have learned that it is better to just jump in and make the call and most of the time things will work out.  I used to procrastinate making a call until after it was too late to make the call.  I had to learn how to do this fairly quickly as I took care of all of the paperwork involving Social Security, Medicare, and all of the hospital bills that were created for Barbara's care.  I still freeze a little when preparing to place a call but I am much better at jumping in and just doing it.

I have progressed a tiny bit on going through some of Barbara's things and getting things in order by either getting rid of stuff or finding a proper place for what I want to keep.  Going through her clothes  is the toughest part for me.  I have yet to make a dent in all of her outfits but I am getting there.  I know what I have to do.  I know how it will turn out.  It is just difficult getting rid of anything of Barbara's.  It is something that needs to be done.  I know this.

Going through Barbara's clothes is one area where I need to make progress.  The other area where I feel like I have not made any progress is coming home and not being met at the door.  I find it fairly easy to leave the house but extremely difficult coming home.  I still want to be met at the door and I feel the sadness come over me each time I arrive home.  The house, other than Dutch, is empty.  Everything is exactly as it was when I left.  This is more or less an everyday thing that gives to me that cloud of sadness and loneliness.  The house is quiet as I go through the motions of letting Dutch out, putting things away. or doing whatever needs to be done.  When I come home from someplace, it is when I am the most lonely and sad.  I have not gotten use to this feeling, to the quiet, to the emptiness. This is what I am trying to work on now.

So I have made a lot of progress in little steps, but I have a long ways to go yet.  I still love her and miss her and I always will.  Changing your style of living after 42 years is not an easy thing to do.  The best progress I have made is being able to enjoy the memories.  We had a lot of good memories made during our time together.  I will always cherish those times.

THE FIRST CHRISTMAS OF FORTY-TWO

We had been married just a little over a month in 1975 and we were young.  She was 20 and I was a mere 19 years old.  Neither of our jobs brought in a lot of money but we were doing well enough to keep a roof over our heads in the form of a little three room apartment and have food for us and a little dog named Babs.  We were happy.

We both decided together that we would not spend a lot on Christmas for each other, saving the money instead.  We wanted to get our parents Christmas presents and then a couple of small inexpensive gifts for each other.  A Christmas Tree was out of the question.  Either way we went, artificial or real, would be more than we could afford and besides Christmas was about more important things than a Christmas Tree and decorations.  At this point in our life together we didn't have any ornaments anyway, so best to just put off all the extras that come along with Christmas and target the must haves.

Our money would be spent for groceries for Barbara to make dishes to take to each of our family Christmas dinners and we would make a donation to the Salvation Army following in my grandfathers footsteps.  I was taught by both my grandfather and my father that every Christmas no matter what, make sure you take some of your money to help those who didn't have as much and the Salvation Army was the vehicle both chose to do.  I remember being out at Christmas time with both men and when passing a Salvation Army bell ringer, stop and drop a few bills into the red kettles.  It was the Christian and the proper thing to do.  God had blessed you during the year, it is only right to give to those who were struggling.  It became a habit with me and still is to this day.  I always drop money into the first red kettle I see during the holiday season.  It is a way to honor God, my father and my grandfather.

The first Christmas would also set a precedent for me.  I never seem to get my Christmas shopping finished for Barbara, and later Brett, until the last minute.  This was the situation I found myself as we approached our first Christmas together.

It was Christmas Eve of 1975 when I left the office to head home.  I drove my old blue Chevy towards the apartment knowing I would have to stop somewhere to find something for Barbara's Christmas the next morning.  My head was filled with thoughts of where I should stop to accomplish the task.  There was a Ben Franklin 5 & 10 store on my way home so I decided I would stop there to see what I could find.  Once that decision was made, my mind started wondering what I would get her.  Maybe some earrings?  Maybe a necklace?  I did not have a clue.  My first inclination when going to a Ben Franklin store or one of that ilk was to go to the music section of the store and buy an album of some sort.  That, however, was not a very good idea to give to Barb for Christmas that year,  Especially since it was our first Christmas.  I imagined she would think that I was buying her a present more for myself then for her and to a certain degree she would probably be right in that thinking.  Okay, no album I told myself.

It was kind of cold and the sun was just beginning to go down as I pulled into the Ben Franklin parking lot.  I had to do this quick not wanting Barb to know I had waited until the last minute to get her a present.  As I learned through following Christmas' she always figured I had not finished my shopping until pretty close to Christmas Eve.  She on the other hand was a machine of efficiency, carefully picking out gifts and getting it taken care of shortly after Thanksgiving.  This would be the pattern of each of our habits for the next forty two years together.  One thing that became a tradition for Christmas as the years went by was that I would go to Lara Little's, a little candy shop at 75th and State Line to get her a half pound of sugar free chocolates.  Our last Christmas together, a couple of days before Christmas, we were heading over to my cousin's house.  I had not stopped at the candy shop yet.  As we headed up 75th Street I told her I had to make a stop first.  She knew exactly where I was going and what I was going to go there for.  As we pulled up to the candy shop I told her to close her eyes and not to peek until I said so.  She rolled her eyes at me and said, sure, but she didn't.  I went into the shop, bought the chocolates and coming back out of the store popped the trunk and threw the box in there.  As I got in the car she was looking at me with this all knowing little grin on her face.  I told her to forget we were ever here and she agreed to do so.  It was just my way to forget to do the little things until the last minute.

I walked into the Ben Franklin and started my shopping, wandering up and down the aisles trying to find the perfect inexpensive gift. I looked at everything that I could think of that might be as close to a perfect gift as possible.  I finally settled on a cheap earring/necklace set to get her.  Then over to the perfume area I went.  On my way to that part of the store though, something else caught my eye.

There, standing alone on a shelf, was a little three foot tall artificial Christmas Tree.  It stopped me in my tracks.  I looked at the boxes underneath the little tree and found out that it was on sale for eight dollars.  I knew that a Christmas Tree was what Barb wanted more than anything.  I stared at the tree while my mind raced through dollar figures and the budget we had set for Christmas.  Yes, it was a little bit outside our budget range if I got her the earrings and necklace, but it would make her so happy I thought.  Then it came to mind that I would need some ornaments as well for taking a tree home without proper decorations would be pretty silly.  Off to the side of where the tree boxes there were boxes of glass ball decorations.  The prices ranged from around $2.50 up to $5.00.  The cheaper balls were small.  Not tiny but small.  In short, they were the perfect size for this three foot tree.  I decided that Christmas only comes once a year, and it would be worth it to have a Christmas Tree for our first Christmas together.  I decided to forget the perfume and get the tree and a box of small red glass balls to decorate it with.  Heading back to the car with earrings, necklace, Christmas Tree and the glass ornaments in hand, I felt pretty proud of myself.

When I got home to the apartment, Barb was still at work.  I took my purchases inside and back to our bedroom.  After wrapping the small box that held the earrings and necklace I sat and wondered what to do about the tree.  Should I set it up and have it decorated before she got home?  Should I surprise her with it and let her decorate it?  Yes, that is what I would do.  I took the little tree out of it's box and located the small stand that was at the bottom of the box.  Taking it into the living area, I looked around for where to put it.  Barb's dad had given us a small television stand that we were using as a table for mail and books to be set on.  After clearing the little table I set up this cute little tree (yes, it had become somewhat cute to me by this time) on it.

It was about this time I heard Barb's car pull up in front of the apartment.  I sat and started to glance over the newspaper from that morning, pretending to read what I had already read and waited for her arrival inside the apartment.  As she entered I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye to catch her expression.  She walked in and started to take off her coat to hang it up when she suddenly stopped.  She had seen the tree.  She looked over at me then back to the tree.  She asked me where I had found it and so I told her the story of stopping at the five and ten store and seeing it on sale.  Her mouth turned up into that huge smile of hers.  She came over and gave me a hug and thanked me while at the same time asking me if this was her Christmas present.  As I got up to go into the bedroom to get the ornaments she expressed her happiness by telling me over and over thank you.  She loved it.  First Christmas, first Christmas Tree.  It was PERFECT.

I came out of the room carrying the box of red glass balls and told her there was more.  She looked at the box then asked "Lights?"  Dang, That had not crossed my mind.  I just told her no, no lights and she said ok.  It was then that we began a Christmas tradition that would last for 42 years.  I sat on the couch while she opened the ornaments and decorated the tree.  She went and got a sheet from the closet to wrap around and over the stand and carefully placed gifts underneath it.  It looked good.

She had bought the dog some treats for Christmas and had wrapped them and placed them under the tree with the other gifts.  It was about three days after Christmas when we came home to a dreadful sight.  Apparently we had left one of Bab's treats under the tree and Babs had sniffed it out.  The dog had tried to get at it by stretching herself up to the table and the whole tree had fallen on the hard floor.  The majority of the glass ornaments had broken but we manage to find four or five that survived.  After cleaning up the broken glass, the remainder of the balls were put back in the box and the Christmas tree was stored away.

It was the way every Christmas should, or would be.  A lot of fun and happiness added along with a tiny disaster just to keep things interesting.

Well, Christmas of 2017 would be our last Christmas together.  We were on our second tree since that first one.  It was five foot tall and had the lights already on it.  Over the years the little three foot tree remained a part of our Christmas as Barb and Brett would place it in his room for the Christmas season and it remains with me to this day.

Through the years, we have increased our collection of ornaments by quite a bit.   We began two other traditions over the years.  Each year Barb would by a new ornament for the tree and I would by a new Christmas album to add to the collection to be listened to over the holidays.  Our parents gave us ornaments that each of us had as children and they, along with the ornaments Brett was bringing home from Sunday School each year, made the tree just a little more festive each year.  We have had Cubs ornaments and Mizzou ornaments.  Last year one of my cousins who is a huge Kansas fan gave us a Mizzou ornament for Christmas.  Barbara loved it.  She loved it not only because it was Mizzou, but also because Eric had willed himself to purchase something that was Black and Gold.  Barb felt like it was a great showing of love for Eric to to do that and she promised that she would return the favor this year ... by getting Eric a Mizzou ornament.  Not surprisingly, Eric said no thanks to the offer.  We did not know it would be our last Christmas together and we were happy, as happy as that first Christmas forty two years prior.

So this Christmas I sat alone.  Barb had passed away at the end of July and my dad had passed away towards the end of October.  I had spent forty two Christmas' with Barbara and sixty one with my dad.  It was a quiet day this year.  There was not a tree set up and decorated but I did spend Christmas in what I consider a special way.

You see I decided to spend this Christmas with Barb and dad.  I would spend it with them by remembering special Christmas moments and memories that I had of dad over the last sixty one years and remember all those very special Christmas' with Barb.  All forty two of them.  Yes it was a quiet Christmas but not a lonely one.  All of those memories filled the day for me and all those memories were good and filled my heart with a peace and love for those two special people that were such a huge part of my life during our time together.

There will never be another Christmas like the Christmas of 1975 and there will never be another Christmas like the Christmas of 2018.  Both were very special.

I sincerely hope all of the my readers had as good of a Christmas as I did this year.  May God bless all of you as we head into another year that no doubt, will bring many changes to all of our lives.

Love you all

Bill

MURDER MYSTERY IN MY YARD

THE FOLLOWING IS MORE A LESS A TRUE STORY.  NONE OF THE NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED BECAUSE THEY KNOW WHO THEY ARE.

The last thing I do before I go to bed at night is to take my constant and best companion, Dutch, out in the front yard with me so that he can take care of any unfinished business while I grab a smoke.  Ordinarily it is an uneventful time for the two of us.  Dutch weighs in at about sixty pounds and is strong enough that I have to be on alert when we go out.  If Dutch spies a stray cat or the occasional possum, he has a tendency to lunge toward the night stalker and I must be prepared.  One night a couple of years ago I was not being very vigilant when Dutch spotted one of those night creepers.  He lunged and pulled me over.  My right foot was planted firmly though and my leg snapped in half.  After Dutch realized what had happened he dragged me up to the front porch so I could seek aid.

On this night however I was being vigilant and at the ready for such a sudden pull so that when it did come, I was ready.  Dutch pulled forward and started barking.  I looked down the street to see what was catching his sharp eyes.  I saw nothing.  He continued to pull and bark and no matter how much I tried to calm him down he would not give it up continuing to pull and to bark until I finally saw what I thought he was after.

It was a very dark spot in the middle of the yard.  I squinted my eyes trying to make out what it was but could not figure it out.  I did notice it wasn't moving and seeing how Dutch was so set on the figure I thought I should try to see what it was.  I took Dutch back into the house where he went over to the window to observe what I was doing. As I approached the dark spot I started to notice it had shape and depth to it.  As I circled around I finally came to the proper conclusion.  It was a midnight black cat and it appeared to be dead.  I started looking around for any indication of how this victim had ended up in my front yard.  I did not find any clues but it was dark that night as clouds were hiding the moon and the light it usually reflects.  I decided I would wait until the morning and do an investigation then.

When I awoke the next morning, I found it to be gray, cold and cloudy with a slight chance of snow.  A perfect day to investigate the heinous crime that had left a victim in my front yard.  I donned my Eddie Bower sweatshirt jacket with a hoodie and headed out to the crime scene.  When I got to the unfortunate one I discovered that I had been right the night before.  It was a totally black cat laying on its side and it was indeed dead.  I made this observation by taking note that it had not moved since Dutch had discovered it the night before.  I pulled my Pentel .05mm mechanical pencil and my note pad out of my pocket and began taking notes.  The cat's head was facing the street and its four paws were pointing to the south.  I looked over the cats body as it lay there and I did not see any wounds or blood at all.  That was curious.  Perhaps I would find more clues on the underside of the cat.

I had seen a pesky raccoon on the roof of one of my neighbor's house a few days before and it crossed my mind that the cat could have died from a rabies infection.  I decided it would probably be best for me not to actually touch the cat so I went into my garage and retrieved one of my forensic tools that I keep for just such an occasion.

I brought my snow shovel out and walked calmly over to the cat.  I slip the blade of the shovel under the cat and lifted it up a bit until its body slid completely onto the blade.  I stepped on the handle of the instrument in order to lift the blade up out of the grass giving me a better look at the body that lie before me.  I took notes of my observations as I tried to find clues.  I estimated the cat to weigh approximately eight to ten pounds.  It was totally black with not one white spot showing.  This, I knew, would have to be taken into account while I looked for blood.  I studied the fur of the unfortunate soul and did not find any wet spots indicating that there was not any blood that I could detect.

As I continued to take notes on my little pad thinking that no detail was too small to be noted, I felt like I was being watched.  I squatted down pretending to take a closer look at the cat and started to slyly take glances around.  I look at my own house and, as expected, saw Dutch's eye peering over the bottom of the window watching every move I made.  I glanced over to Lori's house and saw a space in the blinds that revealed her two eye watching intently.  I glanced across the street and saw the big figure of Chuck standing in his kitchen in the back side of his house watching though his front window from there.  I quickly turned my head to the house on the south side and saw the front door close quickly but quietly.  Yes, the neighbors were watching the investigation with a lot of interest.  Maybe a little too much interest.  I did not have time just yet to worry about the neighbors, I needed to wrap up my observations.

I checked the cats face.  The eyes were closed, shut tight.  The mouth showed what I thought could be construed as a painful look, halfway open with its sharp little teeth barely visible.  I checked the front legs and paws of the cat and did not find any defensive wounds at all.  I must be missing something.  I started replaying episodes of Law and Order along with Blue Bloods trying to bring to mind anything I may be missing in the investigation.  I could not think of anything I was overlooking.

I stood up and looked over my notes, flipping through the fifteen or so pages that I had written down.  It didn't make sense.  I stood and looked over the cat one more time, checked my notes and then went to get the body bag for the cat.  I went to the garage and came out with a thirty gallon garbage sack that on this day would serve as the body bag.  I picked up the shovel and placed the cat into the bag, tying it off at the top to secure any evidence I may have missed in case I think of something later on in the investigation.  I carried the bag to the north side of the house and gently tossed it up against the house then stood studying my notes more.  I had come to what I thought was the answer to what had brought the cat to its untimely demise.  It was the raccoon.  I walked it through my head.  I figured that the raccoon had snuck up on the cat one day, or night, last week and had scratched it or placed a small bite on the cat.  The cat had probably thought it was a tick or flea bite and shook it off without thinking anything of it.  The rabies poison had settled into the cats bloodstream and started doing its damage.  Yes, I would have to find the raccoon and bring it to justice by calling Kansas City Animal Control to arrest it and take it away.

About that time my neighbor on the north side came walking out.  Charlene is a beautiful elderly lady who keeps a sharp eye on what is happening in the neighborhood.  She made her way towards me with her hands on her hips as always.

"What's up?" she asked seriously.

"Well Charlene, Dutch found a dead cat in the front yard last night." and I proceeded to share my notes with her from the investigation.  She stared at me as I relayed the facts of the case in amazement.  I assume that she didn't realize my abilities as an investigator and so she was indeed stunned.  She lifted her hand and started waving it at me as if to signal me to stop so she could say something.

"Have you talked to Chuck about this?" she asked in total amazement that I had not interviewed any potential witnesses as of yet.

"Well, no, not yet.  You are the first witness I have talked to.  You are a witness I presume?  Did you see anything last night?"  I was firm in my questioning to let her know she should not try to put anything over on me.

"Well, no I personally did not see anything, but Chuck said he did."

"And what did Chuck have to tell you about this?"

"Well," Charlene began giving me a rather strange look, "Chuck said that a car had come down the street just as the cat was crossing and it hit the cat.  Car didn't stop I guess.  He said that he walked over to the cat to see if he could help it, but the cat hissed at him, so he walked away."  Charlene was still looking at me in wonderment at my ability to investigate.  I had obviously asked the right question.

Charlene pointed at my pad of notes and pointed at it without taking her eyes off of me.

"So, do you have a suspect yet?" she asked with a hint of a smile.  That smile told me she knew I did have an idea of who was responsible for the crime.

"I figure it was the raccoon."

"The, umm, raccoon?" Charlene repeated.

"Yes, the raccoon.  I saw it top of Sally's house the other day so he is out and about.  I think he did a sneak attack on the cat and poisoned him with rabies"  I said while using my hands to point to Sally's roof and then to the spot where the body had been found.

Charlene sighed before putting her hand over her mouth. "Well, you could be right on that one.  I am guessing the hiss of the cat points it that way?"

"That's the way I see it."  I looked over at Chuck's place to see him just exiting his house.  "Thanks Charlene.  Think I'll have a little talk with Chuck now."

Charlene turned and went back to her house shaking her head as I started to cross the street to talk to Chuck.

Chuck is a big guy.  He stands about six foot two and weighs in at about 270 I would guess and he is a talker.  Chuck loves to talk and doesn't seem to hear what others may be saying to him.  I waved at him.

"Hey Chuck, you got a second to answer a couple of questions?"

Chuck stopped and looked at me.  "Depends.  You got an extra smoke?"

"Really Chuck?  You need a smoke to answer a question or two?"

"I remember things better if I have a smoke." Chuck stated matter of factly.

"Okay, okay," I reached in my pocket and pulled out a smoke for him " Here you go, now I got just a couple of...."

"You got a light?" Chuck was looking at me holding out the cigarette.

"Geez Chuck.  You haven't bought that lighter yet?"

Chuck stared down at me. "I said ... Do.... you ... have... a LIGHT?" He was emphasizing his words by stabbing the cigarette in the air towards my face.

I reached back in my pocket and pulled out my light and handed it to him.  He lit the smoke and took a couple of puffs staring off into the cold sky.  He slowly lowered his head and looked at me.

"Okay, now what is it you want to know?"

"Well, it's about a cat me and Dutch found in the front yard last night.  I was wondering if you could tell me anything about it."

Chuck smiled and started pacing back and forth a couple of steps at a time.

"Sure I can tell you all about that.  You see it was last night, before you and that mutt came out like you always do.  What is that about anyway? No matter. Okay the cat.  I was out last night taking in some air and seeing if it was snowing yet when I seen this cat you see.  Now, I have never seen this cat around here before.  You know Lori over there has a black cat but it has a lot of white on it too but this cat, well this cat was solid black.  Blackest cat I ever seen.  Well, this cat is in my front yard you know and I don't really care if it is in my yard, but something about that black cat spooked me so I took a step towards it to shoo it off and it stopped and look at me then started to run across the street.  Just then, just as this cat was heading in the street this car come racing down the street and BAM! hit the cat.  Car didn't stop, didn't even slow down.  I reckon he didn't know he had hit the cat.  Well, that cat, he is laying out in the middle of the street and I could see it was still moving you know so I go out to see if I can help it at all.  Well, as soon as I get within five feet of that thing it started hissing at me.  I don't need no hissing cat at me and besides, hey have you seen that raccoon hanging around here? well I have and I figure maybe that cat got the rabies from the raccoon and that is why it was hissing at me, so I told myself I don't want to mess with a rabies filled hissing cat so I walked back over here.  I stood out here and watched it for awhile and it started to pull itself, well it was more of a crawl I guess but it started crawling over towards your place.  Got into your front yard and stopped.  I figured it was dead at that point or would be shortly, so I went back in the house.  Nothing I could do for it, you know.  It was in pretty bad shape, so I went back in the house."

I gave up trying to take notes on Chuck's account as to what had happened because I couldn't keep up with him.

"That answer your question?" Chuck asked.

"Yes sir, I believe it does.  Thanks Chuck."

"No problem," Chuck said as he went and got in his car.

I stood there and thought about Chucks version.  It pretty well matched up with what Charlene had said but then again, Charlene had gotten her facts from Chuck so you would expect their stories to match.  Chuck had mentioned the raccoon though while Charlene didn't seem to know about any raccoon in the area.  If Chuck's version was right, then you couldn't really blame the raccoon for the death since a car was the actual cause of death.

About that time Susan and Cory, who are my neighbors to the south came out of their house getting ready to go to breakfast.  I decided it was worth a shot to see if they had any more information.

"HEY SUSAN, CORY, YOU GOT SEC?" I yelled over to them.

"Sure,". Susan said, "What can we do for you?"

They are a young couple who are extremely nice.  They haven't lived there but a couple of weeks so this crime was their indoctrination to the neighborhood.

"Well, I am looking into the case of this dead cat Dutch found in the yard last night."I explained.

Susan lowered her eyes, "Oh yes, that cat.  It was awful.  It was so very sad." and she reached out and held her husbands hand.  "A car hit it last night.  I was just getting home when it happened."

Susan looked over at Cory who nodded his head to urge her on.

Susan sighed.  "The car didn't even stop.  It just kept on going.  So, so very sad." and Susan sniffled a bit.

I softened my voice as I continued to ask her questions knowing how upset she was.

"What happened after the car drove off?"

"Well, that man over there," she said pointing towards Chuck's house, "He came out to try to help the poor thing but I guess the cat was in a lot of pain."  She stopped and thought for a second.  "I think it was in pain because it hissed at that man and he was just trying to help.  Then the poor thing crawled over into your yard and...."

Susan broke down and sobbed.  Cory put his arm around Susan's shoulders and whispered "and it died there, in your yard."

"Thanks.  I appreciate your help" I said as I watched Cory lead Susan to the car and gently help her in before shutting the door.

I sat on the front porch and looked over my notes.  I reran the witness interviews in my head.  It seemed that they all pretty much coincided.  I was convinced it was that filthy raccoon but in the end, I could not pin it on him.  Sure, the raccoon may have poisoned the cat, that was a definite possibility but it wasn't the rabies poison that killed the cat.  No it was a speeding out of control car.

I went in and typed up a report spelling out my conclusion on the murder in my front yard on my computer.  I proof read it correcting any mistakes I happened to find.  I sent the report to the printer and printed it out in nice bold type.  After placing the official report in a folder, I tucked it under my arm and walked out to my car.

About that time Charlene came striding out of her house.

"Where you headed?" she asked excitingly.  Charlene didn't drive so I thought she needed a ride somewhere.

I held up the report in my hand and said, "Taking this report I typed up on the murder to the police station.  They probably can use all the help they can get."

Charlene's eyes lit up and a small smile crossed her lips.  "I was hoping ... I mean thought you might be going up there.  Mind if I ride along?  I would love to see them express their appreciation to you."

"Sure, hop in. It will be nice to have some company going up there."

She got in the car quickly and fastened her seat belt. "Okay, let's go" she said with a touch of excitement in her voice.

So Charlene and myself headed to the station.  I had a feeling that the police would be very interested in this report and probably be very thankful to have such responsible citizens in the city trying to help them out.

GRANDPA AND SNOOPY

My grandpa collected dogs.  I don't mean to say he was an animal hoarder, he collected just one dog at a time.  They were strays that would wander onto his land and if there wasn't a dog already living with grandma and grandpa, then grandpa would take pity on the poor soul and feed him.  Grandpa didn't like to see any animal mistreated or go hungry and so when he could, he would take care of them and they would settle down and be at home on the property.

It was much the same way he treated kids that had rough home life's or the hobo's that would come by the old place on the trains down the hill.  Kids could be taken in at times until things settled down at home.  The hobo's were given a meal and then they went voluntarily on their way.  The dogs just took up residence outside.  Grandma would never let the dogs into the house.  That was her rule.  Grandpa could have as many dogs as he wanted to hang around but they stayed outside the house, and it was grandpa's chore to feed and water them.  That changed a little as they got older and I noticed grandma buying some dog food once in a while and feeding the dog.  but not often.

There are really only two dogs that I remember very well.  One dog was named Bowser by grandpa.  I was rather young when Bowser took to hanging around.  I didn't care too much for Bowser.  When I was young, dogs and myself did not get along very well.  I was terrified of them and although Bowser wouldn't have hurt me in anyway, I stayed as clear of him as I could.

The dog I remember best though was christened "Snoopy" by grandpa.  Snoop, as grandpa called him, was an ugly basset hound that made a lot of noise.  He would bark at anything that came anywhere near grandpa's land.  If a stranger came to the house and Snoopy was out front, the stranger did not get very close to the house.

Snoopy was a protector.  He protected the land and the kids who spent a lot of time there.  Once Snoopy got to know you, then you didn't have anything to worry about.  You were okay as far as Snoopy was concerned.

Snoopy use to follow grandpa around the yard as work was being done in the garden and in the flower beds.  Many times you would know grandpa was finished with a chore because you would hear him say, "Well, let's go Snoop" and the both of them would walk away from where the chore had been performed.

Even though it seemed that Snoopy was grandpa's favorite dog that he had taken in, there was not any special treatment from grandma.  Snoopy stayed outdoors, keeping watch from the back porch at night waiting for the sun to rise and for grandpa to come out early in the morning to give breakfast to the old hound.

Many times as grandpa and snoopy aged together, I would stop to see them and Snoopy would be lying at grandpa's feet while the old man sat in his chair on the front porch smoking a pipe or cigar and watching spiders spin their webs for the flies.  As I would walk up the steps of the porch, Snoopy would lift his head, look at me with those sad Basset Hound eyes and keep an eye on me until I sat and started talking to grandpa.

If I arrived and grandpa was not outside, Snoopy would stand on the porch at the top of the stairs, not exactly wagging his tail but not barking and howling either.  As I reached him I would hold out my hand so he could get a whiff and a lick and then follow me to the front door, where he would stop,  knowing he wouldn't be allowed any further.

After I met Barb and she started going over to grandma and grandpa's with me, snoop would check her out, but then figuring that I was there as well, Snoopy would let her pass.  I think Barb got pretty use to Snoopy but I am not sure that he ever got use to Barb.  He would let her by because she was with me, but then came the day Barb showed up alone.

I was in the kitchen with grandma watching her fix up the evening dinner and having a good talk with her.  Barb was going to be coming over after work to have dinner with my grandparents and myself.  Grandpa must have been upstairs napping or cleaning up from the day's work.  At first Grandma and I just heard Snoopy howling and barking.  It was his defensive howl and bark and I remember grandma asking what was up with that old dog.  I figured that some kids were in the street or some other stray dog that snoopy was warning off because this was his home and there wasn't room enough for more than one dog on the land.

Pretty soon, I thought I heard someone outside yelling and when I mentioned it, grandma said she heard it as well.  I went to the front door and look out over the front yard and down the sidewalk that led up to the house.  Snoopy was standing his ground firmly at the bottom of the stairs to the front porch and at the other end of the walkway stood Barb, frozen and afraid to move.  Snoopy had her stopped in her tracks and he was not going to let her trespass on his territory.

Barb called out to me to do something as she stood there never taking her eyes off of Snoopy who was still howling and barking at her.  I let a little smile escape from my lips which probably wasn't the right thing to do since Barb was scared stiff and waiting for me to do something.  I walked down and petted Snoopy and told him he was a good boy, which was good enough for him.  It let him know he had done his job well.  I then walked out to Barb and escorted her past Snoopy and onto the porch and into the house.  Snoopy stood there with a little soft growl still emitting from his throat as Barb walked past.  Snoopy would never really get use to Barb and I had to make sure from then on that she was safe from Snoopy.

Then came the night that I remember most.  I went over to visit grandma and grandpa.  It was late fall, early winter.  Snoopy had been gone for over two days and grandpa had been worried about him.  When I got to the house, I found my grandfather in the back room sitting in his favorite chair and there, in the house, lying on the floor next to him was Snoopy.  A very quiet, barely moving Snoopy with cuts and bites all over his body.  I had never seen a dog so tore up before.  Grandpa was trying to soothe Snoopy with soft kind words and very carefully placed pats on the old dog to let him know it was going to be alright.

Grandpa's love for Snoopy must have come through that night and opened grandma's eyes to how much that dog meant to grandpa.  He was actually in the house after all.  The first dog ever to legally get in the house with grandma's blessing.  Grandpa held on to Snoopy as long as he could but it became apparent that Snoopy's time on this earth were numbered.

As Snoopy slowly went down, grandpa seemed to be at his side the whole way.  You could see the love the old man had for the dog in his eyes.  You could hear the love from his voice as he comforted Snoopy.  You could almost feel those gentle pats from the old man's hands as he tried to give the old dog some human touch without causing anymore pain.

It wasn't long after Snoopy came home broken and beaten that he passed.  I don't remember seeing grandpa cry or anything but you could tell he was hurting and was missing Snoopy.  Snoopy had lived at the house with grandpa longer than any other dog.  He had been grandpa's buddy out in the yard or on the porch.

Grandpa let Snoopy go but I don't think it was easy for him.  It was another testament as to how loving and caring my grandfather was, not only to humans that jumped trains, but also to dogs that came to stay and become best friends.  Grandpa was a kind of loving man to all creatures, and in the non-human world of the creatures he came across, Snoopy was certainly a special one.

Mean Old Man - James Taylor

On my own, how could I have known?
Imagine my surprise.
Just a fool from a tree full of fools
who can't believe his eyes,
imagine my surprise?

I was a mean old man,
I was an ornery cuss,
I was a dismal Dan,
I made an awful fuss.
Ever since my life began, man, it was ever thus,
I was a nasty tyke who was hard to like.
I had to misbehave,
I did things in reverse,
refused to wash or shave,
I was horrid to my nurse.
I got back what I gave which only made me worse,
I had to have my way which was bleak and gray.

Oh dear, living in here, one hundred years of rain.
Such a drag, this riches to rags with just myself to blame,
a dirty low-down shame.

Silly me, silly old me, somewhere outside my mind.
Clever you walking me through,
willing to lead the blind just in the nick of time.

Who gets a second chance?
Who gets to have some fun?
Who gets to learn to dance before his race is run?
Who gets to shed his skin?
Who comes up born again?
Who was a mean old man till you turned him into
a golden retriever puppy dog?

Who's a good boy?

DUTCH TRIES ADVANCED HOUSE TRAINING

Dutch is our almost two year old full bred Golden Retriever.  He is a good dog and is very intelligent.  I believe he gets his intelligence from being around us almost constantly.  He is an indoor dog about ninety percent of the time and so he observes things that happen around him and he learns from these observations very quickly.

He is very trainable as it only takes two or three walk through's on a new trick before he has it down pat.  He knows what is expected of him and he sincerely does his best to do what is right.  Sometimes he gets carried away playing and all we have to do is to send him to his kennel or simply tell him to calm down and he does.

He has a lot of energy and expends as much of it as he can before ten o'clock in the evening when his body gives out and he crashes into a deep sleep for the night.  He is a people dog and loves to be patted and given attention.  By far he is the most intelligent dog we have had in our house.

This makes sense because he was named for a republican president as were his predecessors.  The first dog we had was named Milhous after President Richard Milhous Nixon.  Milhous was followed by Rudy named for President Gerald Rudolph Ford.  Dutch was named using President Ronald Reagan's nickname while he was growing up.  He will be our last dog and I think it is appropriate to name him after President Reagan.

When we brought Dutch home it did not take but a day or so to house train him as far as his toilet habits were concerned.   He learned very quickly that the house was not the place to urinate or anything else.  He has become quite adept at holding his business until he has a chance to go outside.  When I take him for a walk at the lake he does a very good job of fertilizing the grass around the path with his natural waste material.  We have had absolutely no problem with Dutch in the house training department.  No trouble that is until last weekend when he took it upon himself to take it up a notch and try some advanced training.

Since Barb and I live in the house alone with Dutch there are plenty of times when I go to the bathroom and don't bother shutting the door.  There are many reasons for this.  If Barb wants to yell something at me I can hear her.  If a ball game or car race is on I can keep up with the action while relieving myself.  Dutch often follows me around the house and so he has seen me go to the bathroom plenty of times while I was listening to a ballgame.  As I said earlier this is one observant dog.

He must have observed me going to the bathroom in the house several dozen times during the course of the last winter.  He watches and he thinks then watches some some followed by more thinking.  Finally last weekend came about and something happened that neither barb nor myself ever expected to have to deal with.

I was sitting in my chair in the living room after arriving home from a grocery shopping trip.  I was waiting for the Nationwide Race to begin and was quietly biding my time.  Barb went off to clean up the bathroom and with in seconds was back in the living room.  Her eyes were ablaze and her face was red with something that resembled a cross between anger and frustration.  She walked in and looked at me and then pointed at me as she spoke in a voice that was not hard to hear.  "There is pee all over the stool and on the floor around it!"  I sat and looked at her and tried to take in what she was saying.  I had the feeling she thought I had gone into the bathroom and simply hosed the whole thing down with urine to amuse myself while waiting for the race to begin.

I thought it was best to nip this accusation in the bid and so I quickly defended myself.  "Why did you do that for?"  I asked innocently.

"I did NOT do that!" she said and then went on to describe to me what a mess it was in there.  There was urine on the toilet tank, the seat, the floor around it and the soft rug that she kept in front of the toilet to keep her feet from getting cold.

"Well, I certainly didn't do it," I said as innocently as I could which wasn't too difficult because I hadn't done it.  Then you could almost see the light bulb go on over each of our heads as we looked in the kennel and saw Dutch laying there peacefully sleeping.

Barb pointed at the dog.  "You don't think...." her voice faded off as she realized what she was thinking."

"I don't THINK so"  I said with the same wonderment that was in Barb's voice.

We both stared at the dog and then I decided to put him outside for awhile.  With only the three of us in the house and two of us obviously innocent it was becoming a strange reality that Dutch had tried to use the toilet.  He had seen me urinate there many times.  It was certainly warmer to urinate in the house than outside and as he had put his observations together he must have figured out that we did have a place for that activity in the house instead of in the back yard.

We talked about the possibility some more.  I have never heard of a dog doing that.  If it had been Dutch he had made the target a precise place in the bathroom, namely the toilet.  The lid had been down so there was no way for the urine to get into the bowl.  He would have to hike his leg up high enough to get over the rim which would explain the spraying on the tank and on down to the floor.  It became clear to us that Dutch was teaching himself to be house trained inside the house.

While Barb was grumbling cleaning up the mess I tried to look on the positive side.  "Look at it this way, " I said trying to use my wise voice, "We already have him half trained to use the toilet."  Barb was not amused.  Dogs do NOT go to the bathroom indoors.  She determined we had to take steps to put a stop to this.

From now on I was to close the door when I used the restroom.  The door was to be shut at ALL times whether there was anyone in there or not.  The lid would always be kept down and Dutch would not be allowed to even approach the bathroom door without being called back into the living room.  And so the rules were set into place and we have been following them since.

As for Dutch I can only imagine the confusion in his brain right now.  "I try to better myself,  I do the logical thing by wanting to pee in the warm house instead of the cold outside, I go in the correct place and I end up being banned from it and in a way punished by making me go outdoors to pee..... just doesn't seem right, I don't get it."

I have heard of people training their cats to use the toilet.  I have never heard of a dog owner trying to teach a dog to do that.  But most of all I have never heard of a dog taking it upon himself to train himself in advanced peeing.  I doubt if I ever will again.

DUFUS GOES BONKERS

Dufus was a fine looking proud little beagle whose master was my friend Gregg.  Dufus and Gregg were best friends and they use to do almost everything together.  One of the highlights of the year for them both was the watching of the Westminister Kennel Club Dog Show and so on a cold February night in 2008, they sat together on the couch to see which breed would win.

Most of the time the winning breed was either a terrier of some sort, a poodle, or some other fluff fluff dog as Dufus called them.  There was no reason why the year 2008 should be any different.  And it was in this mindset that Gregg and Dufus sat with their respective drinks and snacks at hand to watch the annual show.

The show progressed on as it did every year until something showed up on the screen that made Dufus sit up straight.  It was the most beautiful beagle he had ever seen.  He watched intently as the beagle on the television went through it's paces flawlessly.  The announcer said the beagles name was Uno.  Strange name for a beagle thought Dufus.  Not a regular beagle name for sure.  How could a dog with a name like Uno get this far into the competition?  There was only one answer and Dufus knew what that answer was.  This was absolutely the most perfect beagle he had ever seen.  Dufus made a decision that if this beagle did not win his division and have a chance at Best In Show, that he was going to calmly walk over to the television and hike his leg.  There was no other choice.  If this beagle did not make it to the finals, then the fix was definitely in.

Dufus watched closely as the judge walked up and down the line of dogs.  He noticed the judge stop and look closely at Uno before moving on.  After looking over all the dogs in the division one more time, the judge pointed at Uno.  Dufus jumped up and down.  This beautiful beagle was going to the finals.

Dufus and Gregg watched the rest of the divisions waiting for the final round.  The round that would name the dog Best In Show, the best dog at the whole Westminister Kennel Club dog show.  Dufus felt a stirring deep inside and he knew, he just was positive that tonight was the night a beagle would finally take home top prize.  He walked over and grabbed the package of Twizzlers that he had been saving for a special occasion.  If ever there was going to be a time to break out the Twizzlers, this was going to be it.

As the final round started, both Dufus and Gregg were rooting for the underdog Uno.  Both of them had a little knot in their stomachs but when Uno came out onto the floor from behind the curtain and Dufus saw how wonderfully built the beagle was, his nervousness left him.  There was no way that this beagle was not going to take home top prize.

The judging began.  When it came time for Uno to go through the required walk, he did it so smoothly you would have thought the dog was made out of cream.  Dufus slowly began to open the bag of Twizzlers.  Gregg tried to tell him it may be too early to be opening that stuff up because that miniature poodle looked pretty fine out there.  No way thought Dufus.  That poodle couldn't carry a bone next to Uno.  This whole thing was the perfect setup for a beagle to take home top honors.

Finally the judge began his final inspection of the dogs.  Dufus made note that the judge stopped twice at Uno and gave him a close looking over.  The tension was building inside of Dufus. to the point where he was almost whimpering with excitement.  The judge went over to fill in the book and bring out the Best In Show ribbon and trophy.  He walked up and down the line of hopefuls then stopped in front of Uno.  Dufus stared intently at the scene.  This was going to be a moment he would remember for all time.  As the judge finally awarded the top prize to the beagle, Dufus went bonkers.

He was up and dancing around in front of the television.  He opened up the Twizzlers and started to twirl them in his mouth while he did a moonwalk on all fours across the floor.  He did every dance he could think of and then started making up little cheers for Uno.  Dufus decided that from now on he would refer to Uno as Uno the Great.  He ran in circles and jumped up and down on Gregg.  Every time Gregg would try to get up, Dufus would jump on his lap and push him back down.  This was going to be a long celebration and Dufus was determined that Gregg would take part in it with him.

When it was all over and Gregg had gone to bed, Dufus sat on the couch with a stomach full of Twizzlers and water.  He had filled himself with enough partying to last until next New Years.  He sat and replayed the evening over and over in his mind.  What a great day for beagledom.  Finally the breed of beagle would be looked upon with awe and wonder.  He pictured himself walking around the back yard as all the neighborhood dogs looked at him with a new respect because he was a beagle after all and a beagle was the Best in Show at the biggest dog show of them all.

Finally Dufus drifted off to sleep but the celebration continued in his dreams, and he dreamed that if Uno could do it, than other beagles could as well.  Perhaps he himself would sire a young beagle that would go to New York and take top honors as Uno had.  Dufus would never forget that night or Uno.

The news on the following days was filled with news of Uno, the wonder beagle and Dufus felt like he had a new friend in Uno even if it was a fantasy long distance friend.

Dufus passed away earlier this year.  But even with his passing, Dufus gave Gregg as well as many other humans who knew him the pleasure of knowing that Dufus had been able to see a miracle before he died.

Rest in Peace Dufus.  You are of a champion breed.

MILHOUS AND THE MAILMAN

Milhous was the first pet I had in my life.  My wife got him for me shortly after we were married.  He was a big dog weighing in at about eighty pounds.  Part German Shepard and part Golden Retriever, he was beautiful.  He had that black snout of the German Shepard but the wonderful soft fur of the Golden.  His temperament was also a mixture.  He was extremely territorial yet very playful with the humans that resided with him in the house.  When we adopted our son, there was much concern over how safe he would be with Milhous.  We needn't worry.  Milhous accepted our son into the family just as everyone else did.

He was named after President Richard Milhous Nixon, starting a tradition that would see my next two dogs named after President Ford and President Reagan.  Milhous lived up to his name though.  He was very protective of his family and wouldn't take anything off of nobody.  He was also extremely bright and managed to escape from the back yard several times.

He was a fence climber.  That is, he would not jump over the fence but climb over it.  It wasn't a slow climb though, as he would be over the fence and off to the races before you knew what had happened.  He was a strong dog with a big barrel chest and the way he would look at a person  with those dark as night eyes of his was terrifying.

He had a special affection for the mailman that would deliver the mail at about ten in the morning everyday.  He stayed in the garage during the week while I was at work so that didn't pose a problem and on weekends I would put him in the garage when I saw someone traveling up or down the street.

It was a nice spring Saturday morning that Milhous and the mailman had their biggest confrontation in either of their lives.  I was out in the yard doing some work on the lawn when I saw the mailman strolling down from house to house on the opposite side of the street.  Soon afterwards came the deep menacing bark of Milhous as he also spotted the mailman making his way down the street.  I took a break from what I was doing and went to get Milhous and put him in the garage.  Milhous cooperated very well, walking slowly into the garage knowing that one of his main nemesis was going to be coming by soon.

I continued to work also being aware that the mail was on its way and soon I saw the mailman a few houses down from mine.  I quit work and stood on my front porch to take the mail when it got there.  The mailman walked up said a cheerful good morning greeting and handed me the mail.  He seemed like he was in a good mood since the weather was so nice.  I took the mail and stepped into the house to set it aside for perusing later in the day.

As I stood in the house thumbing through the mail to see if anything of importance had arrived I heard an extremely loud crash.  I rushed out the front door and saw the mailman standing down at the end of my driveway in the street.  His face was ashen and he had his hand on his pepper spray canister.  I looked over at my garage door and noticed one of the windows had been broken into a thousand pieces and glass was spread on top of my car and over the driveway.  It didn't take me long to put together what had happened.  The mailman had walked between my car and the garage door on his way to my neighbors house.  Being that close to the garage door, he had come into Milhous' sights as he passed in front of the window.  Milhous had taken off after his government enemy and and crashed into the window.  The sudden breakage of glass had caught the mailman by surprise and not being sure what was coming at him, he had high tailed it straight to the street.

I looked at the mailman and asked him if he was okay,  He assured me he was, that he was just a little shaken.  I apologized profusely and assured him this would not happen again.  He accepted the apology and slowly started back on his route with shaking legs underneath him.

I then went into the house and walked into the garage.  I looked around expecting to find Milhous over by the broken window expecting another shot at the mailman, but he wasn't there.  I found him cowering next to the back wall of the garage curled up in a ball in the corner.  He was shaking worse than the mailman had been.  It took me sometime to calm him down and to assure him it was okay to go outside once again.

The confrontation had effected the proud, strong dog more than it had the mailman.  While Milhous would continue barking at the mailman in the future, I don't think I ever saw him charge at the letter carrier again.  It was just too dangerous in his little dog mind.