Riggs

 

The story of my best friend

 On November the 5th, 2005, I lost the best friend I've ever had

A couple of years ago I decided that it was time to get my own dog. And because I'm surrounded by female doggies and a wife (coincidentally of the female persuasion), I figured that a male dog would be best. In my mind I envisioned us hanging out watching football, avoiding yard work and drinking beer on the couch together.

Right.

He turned out to be a horrible “dog”. He was mildly housebroken, could peel paint with his loud barks and would pick the most astonishingly embarrassing times to exercise his ability, even his God given right to poop without embarrassment. There was, as in many human-dog relationships, a "breaking in" period. Basically, he broke me in.

He was rescued from a vet after his elderly owner passed away and the kids didn't want him. From what I understand when they dropped him off at the vet, the instructions from this man's children were, "Just get rid of him." I think they intended him to be put to sleep. But apparently, there was at least one kind soul who recognized him for what he truly was and saw the sweet puppy dog inside. But being a purebred adult Sheepdog with behavioral problems didn't exactly work in his favor and there were no takers. When I got the news from Grannie Annie with the New England Old English Sheepdog Rescue that there was a dog located in South Carolina (a couple of hours drive for me), I jumped at the chance to get him. I think I committed myself psychologically within .01 milliseconds after first catching sight of him. He was beautiful.

When we met to pick him up, he was so happy to be outside and meeting new people. Seeing the sights and smelling the smells. He rode back with us to the house to meet our two other dogs Chloe and Zoe. Both were rather nonplussed with the new arrival. Mild annoyance with a side helping of benign tolerance was the ultimate result.

I decided, with input from the wife, to name him Riggs. For some reason the name just fit perfectly. We drove back home dodging these giant tractor trailer rigs and he sort of reminded me of an 18 wheeler since he was so huge. Our other two girls were named after actresses. Riggs was the character, sort of crazy in a completely out of control way, in the movie Lethal Weapon and it just seemed to fit him.

We got him back home and started our lives together. Riggs was my couch lounge buddy. He loved the couch. He’d perch his head on the top and peek over. He was always smiling when you noticed him. I took so many pictures of him sitting like a human on the couch and his eyes would always follow me. He had some strange idiosyncrasies too. He would jump on the bed before me and didn’t want to let me in. He barked like crazy when I tried to get in my own bed (which caused some interesting dilemmas) until I “learned” that he just wanted me to coax him off the bed with a bone. He’d eat his bone on the floor while I got in the bed, then jump up and snuggle with me. He’d rest his giant head on my chest with a deep sigh as he closed his eyes for the night.

We were inseparable during the day too. From the moment that he woke me up to feed him and take him out in the morning, to the shower (he parked himself in the closet in the bathroom while I showered and got ready) he was with me. And the walks! He loved going for walks with me. He didn’t care where we went, just as long as we went for a walk together. I was having some major problems with my business partner and needed some time each evening to unwind. He would walk with me and occasionally walk over and just nuzzle his big head against my hand as if to say “thanks”.

One of the cutest things I’ve ever seen a dog do was when he would “play” hide and seek. I’d pretend to notice him with a quick intake of breath and hide behind something. He would proceed to sneak around whatever I was hiding behind and poke his head out and look at me. Each time he did this, I’d run to another room and hide and he would “find” me. I frequently found myself running around the house with my wife irritated that I was playing with the dogs for hours at a time.

Riggs loved people. It didn’t really matter if he knew the person because he was an equal opportunity kisser. One of the most entertaining and simultaneously horrifying experiences was his weekend visit to the beauty salon next door to my office.

Riggs "visits" the beauty salon
So I come into the office on Saturday to catch up on some paperwork and do some other fix it stuff and Riggs is having an absolute coronary because I'm leaving him at home.. So I tell him if he's good he can go with me (this is only the second time he's been to my office). He dutifully sits (or tries to) on his butt but he's literally jiggling around left and right due to the inevitable sheepie wiggle. I should have taken this as a really bad sign. But it appears, to my obviously untrained eye, that he's behaving so I take him with me.

We get to the office where I realize that I have forgotten his leash. No problem, he's pretty good; he sits by the door while I unlock the place. I've just gotten the door open whereupon my neighbors in the beauty salon (did I mention life is good? Pretty girls on one side, Chinese takeout on the other) BURST out of the door exclaiming "oh my goodness, he's so cute, c'mere sweetie, etc". There's a dog shaped puff of smoke ala an old Bugs Bunny/Roadrunner cartoon where my dog just sat..

He at least glances back at me while running (all 120lbs of his giantness) over to be slavered attention upon; gets bored with that in no time flat, runs INTO the beauty salon; sniff/lick/wiggle the first lady at the barstool thing (who, by the way is riveted to the seat), proceeds to the next lady, slobber, rinse, repeat and finally ends up at the back of the salon where three seasoned, shall we say, vets of the beauty salon are under dryers. Pokes his nose into the dryer (I guess because of the smell of the perm). This little old lady is both terrified and laughing at the same time. He's onto the third lady almost before I grab his butt and redirect him.

Everyone in the salon is frozen while I'm (trying to not crack up) (I'm really pissed at him) trying to grab him and corral him back in. On the way out, I'm apologizing to everyone and telling him that he's really got to stop this. Thank GOD he didn't poop in there. That pretty much would have topped the charts for a "GOTCHA DAD". I'm sure he just probably forgot he was so excited. Give him the chance again and I'm sure he'll add this to his checklist of Things To Do.

Riggs certainly made for an interesting life. He just loved to be alive! Whether it was sitting on the couch with me or barking non-stop when I took him for his car rides, he was 110% onboard with being alive.

When he stopped eating I was curious but not terribly worried. He was in great shape and was so full of life that I thought it was just something minor. He’d always been a picky eater and all but refused to eat unless I held his bowl in my lap for him. The vet found some lumps and did a biopsy and it was the worst thing possible; cancer. He went on an immediate program of chemotherapy and steroids and got his appetite back somewhat. I took him to the vet so I could spend time with him (my vet’s office is right beside my office, just a couple of buildings down). Each day I would take him in first thing in the morning for a day sit and try to visit him for lunch. We went for walks together while I ate my lunch and occasionally I’d share my sandwich with him.

The last weekend of his life, he didn’t want to come inside. He spent the night on the lawn and I couldn’t sleep. I stayed downstairs with him and kept getting up to look at him. I remember thinking how young he was and how I couldn’t lose him. I coaxed him inside finally and tried unsuccessfully to get him to eat. We took a ride together for no particular reason and afterward he didn’t want to get out of the car.

He died that evening in my arms.

Somewhere there may be someone who loves their dog as much as I loved my Riggs. He was a terrible dog, but he was a great friend, confidant and furry therapist. He was only with me for a short couple of years but I will never, ever forget the lessons he taught me in love, patience and happiness.

Sleep well baby Riggs. I’ll see you again someday.

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