Several years (early 90s) ago I adopted a year old German Shepherd named Duke from the local shelter. I immediately renamed him Luke. Originally I went to the pound to see if I could fine some big, mean, ugly, cats to keep the rats down in my son’s horse barn. But, when I saw this sad and depressed dog I immediately clutched my heart. I asked the lady, “What’s the story on this dog?” She told me how his drug-dealing owner had hung himself in the local jail, making this pure-bread animal an orphan.
With heightened anticipation I asked to take the dog for a walk. When the he and I approached a bench I said, “Lets sit for a while.” Before I could get the for a while part out of my mouth he plopped his behind down onto the ground and looked up at me. My eyebrows jumped up a notch and my mind started to race (well it always races, and this time it raced off in a different direction). We walked a little further and I told him to sit again, he did.
He also walked nicely by my side, laid down on cue, stayed on cue and came on cue. I WAS ECSTATIC. Cats completely forgotten I left the shelter with my new dog on a rope. Rats be darned. I had myself a brand new BFF!
Three weeks later he still hadn’t perked up so I took him to my vet. The poor guy had heart-worms. Several treatments and $$$$$ later, Luke was hale and hardy. However, the process of nurturing him through the poisoning they had to do to cure him, caused Luke to become my shadow and protector.
At first he had anxiety separation problems so I took him everywhere I went (even to church). One day, during Sunday school, I look over to see him standing in the isle by my pew. When one of the churchgoers walked in Luke started to walk in too. When the guy blocked his way Luke let out a low rumble in his throat, which caused the guy to step aside. I took Luke back out to the car and rolled the windows up a little more.
As the days and months went on I became aware of his protective nature and watched him closely. However, as long as no one got rowdy or approached me in a surprising way, Luke was a lamb.
Well, that next year I sustained a spiral fracture of the right tibia. I was in a PLASTER cast from my foot to my thigh. This in itself is a story but I want to tell you about how my dog Luke protected me during this time.
There was an old man who lived down the street who occasionally brought me vegetables from his garden. The only problem was that he wanted to be rewarded with a hug. Which in itself is not a problem, IT WAS HIS HANDS!
One day the old man came to my door. I was still in a wheelchair and my shadow was by my side. The old man expressed his sympathy, gave me some vegetables and reached past the threshold to collect his hug. Luke was calmly standing on my left side and just as calmly took matter into his own hands (or should I say jaws). In the quickest, slickest move I have ever seen, my dog had grabbed the crotch (and its contents) of this man’s pants.
Luke didn’t bite, he didn’t growl, he just did a little “tweak, tweak” and let the man go. The old man froze and said, “Ahhhh, did you see that?” I immediately replied, “Yes, are you OK?” He rubbed the area, told me he was fine, and left. Between giggles, I congratulated Luke for the delicate way he handled the situation. I never saw that old man again!
I considered several other titles, but since this is a "G" rated blog I had to ignore the ideas. HOWEVER, YOU COULD MAKE SUGGESTIONS IN YOUR COMMENTS!