RIP Mickey (1998-2010)
We lost our oldest dalmatian sometime last night.
In 1998 he had been abandoned and thrown over the backyard fence of a model home. Carol answered the ad in the local paper asking for someone to adopt him. When she picked him up he was terribly skinny...and he had been abandoned for so long that his collar was literally choking him. He ended up having to have his collar cut off with a knife.
But from the moment Carol first saw him, he was abandoned no more. We named him Mickey (we already had a female dalmatian named Minnie, so it seemed the natural choice). A happier, more GRATEFUL dog I've never seen. And instead of being alone, he now had another dalmatian to run with, to rough-house with, to be jealous of, to compete for food with, and to love on. We had a nice sized fenced back yard back then, and whenever I would go into that back yard at night they knew we were going to Eureka Park and would energetically jump up and down on the gate. I would usually walk them there (actually skiing after them would be a more accurate description) well after 11:00pm at night so there would be no one around. Once we were sure we were alone and it was safe, I would let them off their leashes. They would run and run and run to their heart's content. As fast as they could run though, they were always careful not to get very far apart from each other.
Less than a year later, we moved 8 miles away out to Argyle. I can still remember them peeking in with their noses pressed against the back windows wondering what all these moving men were doing and wondering where they were taking their "stuff." And those wondering eyes looking at us as if to say, "hey, are you taking US too?"
We now refer to our 10 acre micro-ranch as our puppy "Theme Park." Instead of a back yard, Mickey and Minnie now had a pond, a barn, lots of pasture...and eventually some cows to explore. Minnie was very pregnant at the time and after another month or so gave birth to six healthy puppies. Over my protests we ended up keeping three of them (hey...I wanted to keep them all).
Mickey loved being the head dog in charge...but only because Minnie said he could be, if you take my meaning. Between our pond and our barn, there are some pear trees that were planted by the previous owner. Carol tells the story how Mickey would stand upright on his hind legs to nose down a pear from one of its over-weighted branches. But he careful to make sure that Minnie got hers first before getting one for himself. And he always took it upon himself to teach the puppies what not to do and where not to go (to the bathroom).
Mickey was a very loyal and protective dog, and not just of Minnie and the puppies. Whenever Carol knelt down to work in the garden or in the flower beds, Mickey would come right up and sit down right behind her, his back to her back...always watching out for her so that no one could come up on her from behind. Even as we would sit with them on our porch in the evening, Mickey seemed to do more watching and protecting than he would nuzzling or snuggling.
We lost Minnie in late December 2004. Mickey knew...you could tell he really missed her, as much as any dog can express to a human. Over the last 6-9 months, he had been going downhill. He had his good days and his bad ones - just like the rest of us. But he also had days when he acted like that puppy Carol picked up in 1998...running around wild, spinning helicopters, and jumping up and down for "puppy treats."
Do dogs go to heaven? I don't know. But the Bible says that Jesus has been preparing a place for us, that where He is we might be also. I'd like to think that Minnie and Mickey are there -- together again now, just waiting for us.
I've attached a picture of Mickey in his favorite spot. It's in our front yard...a big cow watering trough that we kept full of cool water in the summertime. It was Mickey's pool, and while I'll miss him a lot, this is how I'll always remember him -- a happy puppy and his pool.
In 1998 he had been abandoned and thrown over the backyard fence of a model home. Carol answered the ad in the local paper asking for someone to adopt him. When she picked him up he was terribly skinny...and he had been abandoned for so long that his collar was literally choking him. He ended up having to have his collar cut off with a knife.
But from the moment Carol first saw him, he was abandoned no more. We named him Mickey (we already had a female dalmatian named Minnie, so it seemed the natural choice). A happier, more GRATEFUL dog I've never seen. And instead of being alone, he now had another dalmatian to run with, to rough-house with, to be jealous of, to compete for food with, and to love on. We had a nice sized fenced back yard back then, and whenever I would go into that back yard at night they knew we were going to Eureka Park and would energetically jump up and down on the gate. I would usually walk them there (actually skiing after them would be a more accurate description) well after 11:00pm at night so there would be no one around. Once we were sure we were alone and it was safe, I would let them off their leashes. They would run and run and run to their heart's content. As fast as they could run though, they were always careful not to get very far apart from each other.
Less than a year later, we moved 8 miles away out to Argyle. I can still remember them peeking in with their noses pressed against the back windows wondering what all these moving men were doing and wondering where they were taking their "stuff." And those wondering eyes looking at us as if to say, "hey, are you taking US too?"
We now refer to our 10 acre micro-ranch as our puppy "Theme Park." Instead of a back yard, Mickey and Minnie now had a pond, a barn, lots of pasture...and eventually some cows to explore. Minnie was very pregnant at the time and after another month or so gave birth to six healthy puppies. Over my protests we ended up keeping three of them (hey...I wanted to keep them all).
Mickey loved being the head dog in charge...but only because Minnie said he could be, if you take my meaning. Between our pond and our barn, there are some pear trees that were planted by the previous owner. Carol tells the story how Mickey would stand upright on his hind legs to nose down a pear from one of its over-weighted branches. But he careful to make sure that Minnie got hers first before getting one for himself. And he always took it upon himself to teach the puppies what not to do and where not to go (to the bathroom).
Mickey was a very loyal and protective dog, and not just of Minnie and the puppies. Whenever Carol knelt down to work in the garden or in the flower beds, Mickey would come right up and sit down right behind her, his back to her back...always watching out for her so that no one could come up on her from behind. Even as we would sit with them on our porch in the evening, Mickey seemed to do more watching and protecting than he would nuzzling or snuggling.
We lost Minnie in late December 2004. Mickey knew...you could tell he really missed her, as much as any dog can express to a human. Over the last 6-9 months, he had been going downhill. He had his good days and his bad ones - just like the rest of us. But he also had days when he acted like that puppy Carol picked up in 1998...running around wild, spinning helicopters, and jumping up and down for "puppy treats."
Do dogs go to heaven? I don't know. But the Bible says that Jesus has been preparing a place for us, that where He is we might be also. I'd like to think that Minnie and Mickey are there -- together again now, just waiting for us.
I've attached a picture of Mickey in his favorite spot. It's in our front yard...a big cow watering trough that we kept full of cool water in the summertime. It was Mickey's pool, and while I'll miss him a lot, this is how I'll always remember him -- a happy puppy and his pool.
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