THE SONIC BOOMER
I have never owned a dog, not even as a child. I know, I know. In America, everyone has to have one. Otherwise, why get up in the morning? Certainly not to walk oneself.
And yes, I’ve heard of cat people, but I’m not one of those either.
As a result, there are no furballs in the corners of my home, no dishes of food on the floor to attract vermin and my black slacks stay black. In short, I am blissfully free of all the conditions of unconditional love.
Yet this column is a tribute to Crockett, the coolest dog I’ve ever known, and the closest I’ve ever come to having a dog of my own.
My daughter first met Crockett in Gainesville when he was a puppy and she was a student at the University of Florida. He was at the shelter where Jen volunteered. He was the only dog there, as most students find it easier to sneak cats into pet-restricted dorms and apartments than dogs. Then, as the students graduated and moved on with their lives, too many of these pets got left behind.
With only felines as roommates, Crockett developed many catlike behaviors. He liked to sit up high, looking down on things. He sat with his front paws crossed and licked them clean, much as a cat would.
But the similarities stopped there because Crockett also realized he was the man — er, dog — of the house. A sharp bark aimed at those he considered his subordinates kept everyone in line. And, because he was there as the end result of a UF heartworm experiment, he got extra attention from Jen (who, thanks to me, had never had a dog growing up). He was treated like the king he was sure he was. Pretty soon, Jen adopted him and brought him home to meet me.
I was less than impressed. He looked like an ordinary dog to me. Crockett had to stay in the garage which, in this day and age, is almost considered animal cruelty. After all, I had seen dogs driving cars and sipping milkshakes as they barreled down the highway — or so it appeared.
Eventually, Crockett wormed his way into my heart and out of the garage. He was friendly and smart, and Jen hinted that she needed someone to watch him while she lived in Turkey for six months. What’s a mother to do?
During the six months I dogsat Crockett, I developed an admiration for him. He never got tangled around a stop sign during our walks. He waited patiently for me to catch up. He sang along if anyone was singing “Happy Birthday” (but not any other song) and could even open gift-wrapped presents (whether one needed the help or not). He was fun… he was quirky.. and I liked him.
When Jen returned home, their reunion was heart-warming. She ran straight for him, but Crockett looked back at me first, as if to say, “I love her, but you know I appreciate you, too, right?” When she was done cuddling her sorely missed dog, Jen gave me a hug.
After that trip, they were rarely separated. He was there when she met her future husband, there when she said “yes” and there when she said “I do.” He was good and loyal and loving.
In short, Crockett gave all he had to give for 16 years, until last month, when he went to that big Playground in the Sky. Don’t be sad. His arrival was almost certainly met with singing and gifts to open. After all, it was his birthday.
