Shawn: a Good Old Dog

It is a sad but not completely unexpected day for me today. My women are at an equestrian event and my old dog Shawn has died. I am putting him in the ground along my back fence as soon as I can get a an adequate hole dug. I have him shrouded and on ice now. He was too much like family to throw out with the garbage. I had other plans for my bachelor weekend but it seems that life in all its manifestations has a way of dictating what comes next.

The picture above was made in the last month or so. Over the last couple of years Shawn had become stone deaf, near totally blind and in recent weeks incontinent. I would lead him out to the yard and he could get around on scent and habit alone. I tried to keep him kenneled overnight at my bedside but he retained a strong need to be loose to patrol the windows and doors throughout the house every couple of hours. If he was denied that, he would give off with a bark session from bedside that would peal paint from the wall. It was his best quality. He was in no way aggressive or snappish but his bark over a tile floor was near painful.

Shawn was a variety of dog that arose with the Bichons. He had all the best qualities of the smaller Bichons but he was a larger dog. Shawn was a well muscled 30 pounds. Legend has it that Shawn-like-dogs were ship board dogs for the early Portuguese seafarers. Their main duty was to swim lines between ships of a flotilla when conditions prevented them being passed otherwise. Their base breed stock is poodle and Maltese like dogs that were bred for intelligence and an agreeable nature.

Shawn patrolled the pool perimeter as part of his routine. He also liked to drink pool water. We have had so much rain this season that the pool water is is closer to rain water than the chemical soup that is standard pool water. On occasion we would get Shawn in for a swim. He was very a capable swimmer but his strong get-to-safety nature made him a poor water companion. He had large feet with blunt instruments for nails and was capable of causing ugly scrapes and gouges if you got in his way. The water was eventually his undoing.

Early in his pool career, Shawn would drink only from the corner of the pool that had concrete entry steps. In the past several years he would just choose a corner. Over the years we would arrive home to find that Shawn had had a full dunk in the pool at some time in our absence and we would find the evidence of his dip in the trail from the pool deck to the family room floor. When we decorated and bought furniture, we planned for a damp family room. There is nothing there that could be completely spoiled by water or damp. The floors are tile and the furniture is leather. The mop sink is nearby in the laundry room and there are two wet/dry vacs available at all times. The towel supply is color coded for for animal usage and human usage.

The pool, however, was Shawn's entry point into his next expression of existence. In recent months, Shawn's vision began playing tricks on him. His light and shadow discrimination caused him to startle and shy in very clumsy ways. His coordination and sureness of foot was failing. His ability to swim to safety had been overwhelmed by an atrophy of ability. He would quickly become lost in what here-to-fore was a familiar watery environment. It was evident even in the house that he was less aware of his surroundings. His sense of smell always lead him to the counter tops and the open refrigerator. If there was a bit of food anyplace on a table or counter top he knew where it was by scent alone. He remained strong enough to the end to surmount any obstacle to get to a sandwich left unattended on any elevated surface. He was a dog to the end.

In the past year Shawn had gotten himself in pool trouble several times. He would fall in at night and I would detect that from a deep sleep and would get up to rescue him in his confusion. It had not been too long before that when he would get in and out of the pool he would come to my bedside and run his wet chops against my hand to announce his adventure. In winter, I would get up, wrap him in towels and and tend him until his chills would subside into sleep. I would then put him in the laundry room floor and turn on the dryer. That would be good for a couple of hours and then he would get a flash of hunger or patrol purpose and would bark for release. He was after all a good old dog.

In his dogness, Shawn had a particularly aggravating habit. Whenever his humans would sit for a snack or a meal at the kitchen table or in the family room, Shawn would get as close as possible and pant his hot breath on exposed legs. He was never any more demonstrative than that but it was enough to be a total pain. As I sit here now, I miss his presence at my feet. If there were some snack morsel near me he would pant on my leg until I gave in or put some blocking chair or other object in his way. He was just a dog and he was very good at it.

As I have been keying this in, I have also started Shawn's resting place. It is against my back fence. I dig a while and then I key a while. I have put him next to the cats, Laverne and Shirley. My back fence is against the railroad and utility easement. Across from that is a 10 acre stable and paddock ranchette. One of Shawn's favorite things to do was to sit on the pool deck and bark at the steel monster that rolled by twice a day.

My women do not know of Shawn's passing. When I was running errands yesterday morning, Shawn went into the pool as I was dropping off the daughter and her equestrian friends at the barn. I picked my wife up from work at noon and brought her home to finalize her packing for the equestrian weekend. It happened in that slot of time when I left with the daughter at 10 a.m. and when I brought my wife home. While I was taking the little dogs to the yard, I noticed Old Shawn floating between a far wall and a pool float. I pulled him out and boxed him up before my wife emerged from her packing. I am alone with this at the moment. There is nothing anyone else can do. I am sure that I will be condemned and grilled by my women for being so callous and secretive, but there was no practical reason to have this interfere with their pleasure. They have a full schedule of schooling and eventing activities at the show grounds. The animals at home have always been my responsibility. When I am not available, my women like to respond to emergencies by taking the animals to the vet. I have pulled a lot of animals through some bad times. It was a gift of practical knowledge from my dad.

I have to go dig some more. The spot is in deep shade so it is not so bad a job of taking care of my old dog for the last time.