My Old Girl, Sandy Sue

The first time I saw Sandy (Sandy Sue as we would come to call her) it was looking between the slats of the privacy fence that separated my aunt Barbara's home in Sheridan, Indiana and her next door neighbor's property. My aunt asked if the dog next door was a golden retriever. Though my view was partially restricted, I surmised she probably had some golden genes but she certainly wasn't full blooded. Her profile gave her the appearance of a golden retriever but head on she looked like she was probably mixed with a collie.

Sandy had gotten my aunt's attention by her constant barking and whining. She was not a happy dog. Her owners apparently didn't care for her as they kept her on a short chain connected to an igloo shaped dog house. They threw food and water out for her but never showed her affection or gave her freedom to exercise her legs. Barbara was saddened by Sandy's plight.

Sandy was aware of my aunt's 2 dogs and the good life they enjoyed on the opposite side of the fence and time and again she would break free of her chain and journey over to my aunt's house where she could enjoy some companionship. Reluctantly, Barbara would have to return her to her owners.

Barbara asked me on a couple of occasions if Sandy broke free and visited her if I would be willing to smuggle her away to live with me. My heart went out to Sandy but at the time, we couldn't possibly bring her to our home to live. Our beloved, golden retriever, Tristan had been recently diagnosed with cancer and we were working hard helping him through the final months of his life. We had just brought Noah, a puppy golden retriever who had been rescued from an interstate highway, into our home, and we still had our aging Lhasa Apso, Jasmine living with us. It just wasn't conceivable.

The following spring, my aunt called me enquiring if I might be interested in taking Sandy in. Her neighbors were preparing to move away and she was seriously concerned they were going to "shoot Sandy in the head" before they left. Barbara asked if she released Sandy and stole her away would I be willing to take her. Tristan had passed away during the winter and we were in a better position to welcome another dog into the family. I told Barbara not to steal Sandy, but to go to her neighbors and ask them for the dog. I figured if they were planning to do away with her anyway they should be willing to give her to their neighbor. If nothing else they might figure they wouldn't have to waste the ammunition.

Barbara promptly requested Sandy of her neighbors. Barbara insisted she have Sandy checked out by her veterinarian before turning her over to me. It cost her a bundle. Sandy had heart worm. I offered to pay the expense for her cure but Barbara wouldn't hear of it and she kept Sandy isolated at her house while she was treated. When Sandy was cleared by the vet, Barbara told me to come and pick her up.

Sandy recovering at my Aunt Barbara's home

Sandy was approximately 2 years old when she came to live with us. Our biggest concern was how Noah would respond. He was now the alpha dog after he had been brought along by Tristan. We were unable to take him to meet her on neutral ground so Sandy was going to be introduced on his turf. We were pleasantly surprised to find he got along well with her. I'm sure much of this was due to Sandy's sweet non threatening disposition.

Sandy quickly integrated into our family. From day one, Sandy was always sweet and gentle. She never demanded anything from us, and appeared to genuinely appreciate affection, safety and stability. She rarely barked as she had at her former home and only raised a fuss when it was meant as a warning or declaration. Sandy quickly adapted to the comforts of indoor life and it was evident she enjoyed her creature comforts.

One habit Sandy brought with her was wanderlust. She no longer wandered off for escape but for adventure. On more than one occasion we found Sandy missing from the back yard. We couldn't figure out how she was getting out. Later we would discover her climbing over (not leaping) the 3 foot fence bordering our back yard. Most of the time, she was found nearby and she happily returned when called. It didn't take long before Noah learned from Sandy's wanderings and began leaping the fence and following her lead outside our property.

Panic was the emotion our family felt one day the following winter when both dogs went missing. We spent much of the day searching for Noah and Sandy. We looked everywhere we had previously found them on their jaunts with no luck. Noah finally showed up at the house but Sandy was still missing. A phone call later that day revealed her whereabouts. A Good Samaritan in the neighborhood adjacent to ours had taken Sandy into his garage as he was concerned about her in the wintery elements. He had eventually found her name and our phone number on her caller. That spring, (particularly after Noah began jumping the fence to chase passerbies) we put up a new 6 foot fence.

The word I would associate most with Sandy is Contentment. Nothing seemed to upset her. She was pretty independent. Noah acts as if he never gets attention. He insists people see what he's up to and has to be cautioned not to overwhelm and pester people. If Sandy got attention, she accepted it but if she didn't get the attention Noah got, that was OK with her too. She had her moments of playfulness but for the most part she was content with just observing Noah chase a tennis ball or wrestle with a tug toy. In a sense, she became kind of sedentary. Where Noah doesn't like other dogs, Sandy typically enjoyed meeting and interacting with other dogs. Noah has always been and insists on being the alpha dog since Tristan died. Sandy was perfectly content with Noah being "Top Dog". Sandy was the perfect counterbalance to Noah's rambunctiousness.

Sandy in one of her more playful moments

Over the last few years, It appeared Sandy's hips were beginning to bother her. We probably spent a fortune on glucosamine and later Rymadol to keep her from becoming uncomfortable. A little over a year ago it was becoming apparent Sandy's spine was degenerating. She was having some difficulty with walking distance and then her gait began to become awkward. This past winter we had to support her hind quarters when she walked to keep her upright. By spring we had to lift her back end up off the ground and set her on all fours for her to move a short distance, and finally this summer she could no longer stand unaided nevertheless walk. Of late, we began carrying her outside and supporting her while she did her business. She sometimes even needed help with repositioning when she became uncomfortable. Eventually she became unable to control her bowels and we had to massage her bladder to stimulate her urination. Throughout it all she appeared to be content with her life. She still enjoyed a few simple pleasures. She enjoyed eating, and sitting outside and watching the goings on of the neighborhood. She liked being talked to and petted but I imagine being dependent for most of her basic functions was becoming a burden.

A typical Sandy pose from a year ago

Last Friday, Sandy had a bout with diarrhea which lasted most of the weekend, necessitating her spending the majority of the time outdoors. I thank the Lord for providing nice weather. After multiple cleanups and a diet adjustment, by Sunday, her diarrhea had cleared but we noticed she had developed an open sore on her right flank. Because of the time she spent outside she had been exposed to flies and maggots had infested the sore. Though maggots in wounds is actually a good debriding method, we couldn't stand maggots in the house, so I spent much of Sunday evening picking maggots from the wound and combing them from her fur.

Judy called Dr. Keifer, our vet, Monday morning to help us determine what we should do. (We had Dr. Keifer see her a few weeks ago and he told us then she was getting near the point we should consider putting her down.) He suggested if Sandy was becoming debilitated to the point where she was developing sores; the time to let her go had come. I left work early yesterday, and Judy and I took her in and sat by her side comforting her as Sandy's spirit left her worn out body. I must have cried a thousand tears and as I write this, my throat cramps as I choke back more tears. When her ashes are returned to us, we will place them in an appropriate spot in our back yard and have a family service for her and we will all cry again.

Sandy lived just a few months shy of 12 years. Her first 1.5 to 2 years were under difficult circumstances as she was mistreated and she barely survived. It would have been understandable if she would have been a difficult dog the rest of her life but instead she took everything in stride and found life enjoyable. She wasn't skittish and never showed an iota of meanness. She was always sweet and gentle.

Goodbye, I'll never forget you, my old girl, Sandy Sue.

Remembering Tristan

The other night, Judy and I had friends over and we watched Marley & Me. We had seen the film in the theatre when it came out, enjoyed it immensely in spite of the emotional pain we suffered during the ending, and bought the DVD when it became available. We hadn't watched the DVD since purchasing it because there was always someone unwilling to subject themself to the emotions they knew were inevitable. This is not a review of the film. At the conclusion of the movie, my friend John Hale suggested I write something about my dogs in my blog.

One of the reasons Marley & Me is so painful for me to watch is it reminds me so much of our lives with Tristan, a Golden Retriever we welcomed into our lives during the summer of 1989.

(Tristan, our pick of the litter )

Earlier in 89, Judy and I both read the Dean Koontz novel Watchers. The book was about a genetically enhanced Golden Retriever named Einstein. Koontz who owned a Golden himself, characterized the dog so richly, we fell in love with the breed. At the time, Judy and I had no children (at least not human kids); we had two Lhasa Apso's, Seth and Jasmine. We found a breeder of Goldens in Danville and after much deliberation we brought Tristan home. We named him after the younger Farnon brother played by Peter Davison on the BBC series based on the James Herriot novel All Creatures Great and Small.

(Jasmine, Judy, Seth and Me)

It didn't take long for us to find out how much Tristan liked the water. We put a big bowl of water out for the dogs to drink while they played outside. Tristan climbed into the bowl to cool off time and time again. We soon bought a small child's swimming pool for his enjoyment which he played in for years.

(Cooling off)

It wasn't long before we were taking Tristan out to Eagle Creek Park where we would find a hideaway in a secluded part of the reservoir and go swimming. More than any other activity, I believe this is what Tristan enjoyed doing most.

Tristan was a beautiful Golden. He had a rich golden, feathered coat and he would eventually grow to weigh 95 pounds, large by Golden standards and I would best describe him as majestic. Large dogs can't be allowed to jump up on people and we knew it would be essential to have him go through some obedience training. During his first year with us, Tristan was quite the rowdy one. We had to pull him out of K-9 College because he played too rough during breaks. Another dog had to have stitches due to Tristan's roughhousing. We had to break down and have a trainer come to our home and teach him as well as Judy and myself the basics of obedience. This time he graduated and the training proved worthwhile particularly when he was away from home for when he was in a strange place all I needed to do was whisper a command and He promptly followed direction.

But there was one instance when Tristan showed instincts and intelligence beyond the scope of training. Shortly after we adopted Jason, he was two and a half and Tristan was 3 years old, we all went up to my aunt's house in the country. Bushes, chicken coops, tractors, wagons, there was much for a toddler to get into while Jason explored my aunt's backyard. Being the protective father I started to run out to make sure Jason didn't get into anything dangerous. Aunt Barbara stopped me and told me to watch. Tristan had gone with Jason, and I was amazed how he instinctively protected our newly adopted son. Everytime Jason approached an object, Tristan would step in between the boy and what he was investigating. Tristan would look it over, sniff it and then let Jason approach if it was safe. One time Barbara's Great Dane came over toward them, Tristan stepped forward and more or less herded the bigger dog away. Barbara's dog was gentle but big and clumsy. Tristan didn't want anything to accidently happen to Jason.

(Tristan relaxing at Aunt Barbara's)

Jason and Tristan had a special relationship. He was great with Kyle also but He and Jason bonded. Jason constantly laid on top of, plopped on and one time jumped on Tristan from the couch while the dog was sleeping. That incident cost Jason a couple of stitches as Tristan reflexively snapped at the unexpected intrusion of his sleep. In spite of that Jason and Tristan had a true "boy and his dog relationship". Tristan slept in Jason's lower bunk most nights and to this day Jason's most precious possesion is Tristan's collar.

(Jason with his dog)

(Jason & Tristan in Gatlinburg Tenn)

(Kyle and Tristan)

It gave us great pleasure to give Tristan things he loved. Tennis balls, rawhide chews and many assortments of food. He was a chip hound. It was impossible for me to eat potato chips without him begging for a few. He balnced his diet though as Tristan loved apples. Our next door neighbor's yard had an apple tree which dropped apples in our yard every fall. Fortunately, He never got sick from the large quantity of apples he consumed.

(Judy spoiling our growing Golden)

When winters rolled around, Tristan enjoyed water then as much as he did during the summer. This time it was in the form of snow. Whether it was just catching snow balls tossed at him, digging on top of a giant, rolled up snow ball or just chasing me or the boys through the snow, he loved it.

(Romping in the snow)

Most of the time, Tristan got along well with other dogs. He so wanted to play with both Seth and Jasmine but his size intimated both of them. The best playmate he had was an Alaskan Malamute our neighbors had. They didn't have a fenced in yard and Max was kept on a long lead when left outside. Both dogs benefited when I would bring Max over to our house and let him romp with Tristan. Tristan was a little larger and most of the time dominated but on occasion we would see Tristan let Max get the upper hand as if he wanted him to be happy als0.

(Tristan wrestling with Max)

Though a great dog with other dogs and children, Tristan was a terror on wildlife. I never could understand why rabbits wanted to nest in our yard. I remember the first nest Tristan uncovered. I caught him joyfully tossing little bunnies in the air and catching them and when he was afraid I was going to stop him, Tristan gulped the baby rabbits down. This happened during more than one Spring. Rabbits weren't his only prey, Judy was walking him around the block one day and he made a sudden dart into a bush next to the sidewalk. He backed out of the bush, proudly displaying his kill. He wouldn't let the dead squirrel out of his mouth until he completed his walk for all to see. On another occasion, Judy came to me one evening concerned over something Tristan had in the backyard. I went out to investigate and found Tristan sprawled out on the ground guarding his dead prey. It was a possum. I pulled him away and scooped up the possum and set it in a box in the garage. I went back into the house and after a few minutes it dawned on me a trait of possums was to play dead. Sure enough when I went back out to check, the possum was gone.

In the spring of 2001, we noticed Tristan having a difficult time urinating. Judy took him into the vet and returned with the disheartening diagnosis. Tristan had Cancer of the spleen. Swelling was preventing his ability to pee and the vet didn't expect him to live but another month, two at the most. He started him on steroids to reduce the swelling and in the mean time, I would catheterize him twice a day. The process involved me laying underneath him and guiding the catheter through his penis and into his bladder, draining the urine into a pan. Amazingly, he cooperated every time and made the process simple. When the steroids took hold, he would begin urinating freely again and I would be able to stop the catheterizations. Unfortunately, the swelling would reoccur after some time and we would start over again. Tristan lived nearly 8 months after the cancer diagnosis. Better yet, his quality of life was preserved. We were blessed more than we could imagine.

Shortly after he was diagnosed, I was still feeling a great deal of emotional distress. A nurse on the night shift came to me knowing my situation and offered a young golden retriever pup, just a few months old, to me. He had found the young dog late one night on the intersate and had stopped to pick him up. He had tried to find an owner without success and was unable to keep the dog himself. He figured the pup would be a good way to help me through my struggle. At first I refused. I felt it would be like I was betraying Tristan. But when he brought the young Golden in to the hospital, I was overcome with emotion. He reminded me so much of Tristan when he was a pup. I changed my mind and brought the pup home. It was the best decision I could have made. Jason named the pup Noah, and he fit into the family immediately. He was also good for Tristan and Tristan was good for him. It was like Tristan took him under his wing and mentored the young pup. We had one of our best summers.

We went to Hummel Park many times to go swimming in the creek. We were taking a risk. The vet had warned us not to provide too strenuous exercise for Tristan. It could have caused his spleen to rupture and he would have bled to death internally. We decided if Tristan died swimming, he would have died doing the thing he enjoyed most. Instead of causing him distress, he thrived on it. What a joy it was swimming with Tristan and Noah and throwing sticks into the water for them to fetch.

(Tristan teaching Noah about swimming)

Judy and I celebrated our 25th anniversary that summer and went to the Smokey Mountains. we took the dogs and the boys and the event was so much better because they were part of it.

(Testing out a mountain stream)

We probably spoiled Tristan more than ever during those months. He got more than usual treats and rawhides, but we wanted, more than anything, to make Tristan's remaining time with us the best of times.

December 17th 2001 should have been a day of celebration for me as I turned 47 years old, but instead I had to have my good and faithful friend for over 12 and a half years put to sleep to prevent him suffering a stressful death that was quickly approaching. The tumor in his spleen was beginning to cause slow internal bleeding and the medications that helped keep him up and about were no longer as effective. If we didn't act he would soon have respiratory problems. Though he was comfortable at the time, he could begin having distress at any time and we owed it to him to let him go peacefully with the family at his side comforting him.

The pain I felt that day and the days after eventually faded but the memories of Tristan remain strong. I'm thankful for the many photos and videos though I still get choked up looking at them, and I know Tristan wouldn't want us to be in pain and would have us remember him joyfully.

(My big guy)