Don't read this post if you don't feel like having a good cry.
I (John) adopted this dog in the spring of 2002. I remember that I was on crutches at the time after my knee surgery. I had scouted around at various animal shelters and was looking (at my mom's recommendation) for an Australian cow-dog. I found one named Giorgio on the website of the shelter in Shawnee, so I drove out to meet him.
As I hobbled in on my crutches all the animals were going crazy and every dog in the place was barking his head off except for the one I had picked out on the website. I walked up to him and said hello and he accompanied me on a short walk outside and then calmly sat next to me in the sunlight. His history was that he had been picked up in a park, he and another dog had been tipping over trash cans. His accomplice had just been adopted the day before. I signed the papers and took him home.
I knew he wasn't going to keep the name Giorgio, but I struggled with what to call him. Until one day when I came in from working outside and I dropped my Carhartt overalls on the floor and sat on the couch. He came and laid down on top of the overalls and I was struck by how his fur matched the canvas color so perfectly, and what better rugged name for a rugged dog, than Carhartt.
Carhartt made many friends over the last 14 years. They were always drawn to his calm personality. He was independent and not needy, but at the same time he would dutifully make his rounds when I had people over, stopping in front of each person in turn so they could enjoy petting his big head.
What many of those people may not have realized is that he was a comical dog too. I found this picture of when I decided to have him "help" me drag some branches up to the house. His branch was tiny but he ultimately collapsed in the harness with an overly dramatic sigh.
And I will always remember the time we went camping together out at Hillsdale Lake. At dark I crawled into the tent and invited him to join me, but duty compelled him to place himself alertly at the entrance, ears pricked, on guard. Within 30 minutes or so our campsite was a veritable symphony of rustling noises, splashes, and other small animal sounds. Carhartt barked, growled, and on a couple of occasions jumped up and charged into the underbrush to chase some small animal back into the water from which it came.
After a full hour of this type of guard duty he returned after chasing his last animal and he walked through the door of the tent and gave me a look. That one look said "Why on earth did we drive out here to this very dangerous place where all of these animals live. This was not my idea, and therefore I am done with guard duty." Without breaking stride he walked all the way to the back of the tent, made sure that I was solidly between him and the door through which any animals would attack, and he curled up at my feet and went to sleep.
Carhartt saw our old modular home get torn in two and hauled away. He saw us take forever to get a new house built. He tolerated a young lady coming into our life with her sneezy little dog.
And then probably toughest of all when we brought home too very loud little boys who were very curious about doggies.
And he took it all with so much grace. I remember one time either Seth or Colin grabbed Carhartt and hurt him and Carhartt was forced to grab their hand in his mouth and remove it from his body. He did it as gently as he could but of course it still scared the little boy. Before I even realized what had happened Carhartt rushed over to me and looked up at me with his gentle eyes that said "I'm very sorry, but I need to file an incident report."
There is one more story that is particularly poignant to me. I took Carhartt with me down to Osawatomie one day to work on the old modular home after it had been relocated onto its new lot and put up for sale. I let him out of the truck and opened the front door for him and we went inside. Immediately he got very excited and started quickly pacing around the familiar rooms looking here and there with joy. But then he looked out the window and the sight was unfamiliar and he looked at me with questioning eyes. I couldn't explain to him that it is impossible to turn back time. It rushes by changing everything around you, and when you settle to the ground again like a wind-tossed leaf you look and see that it has changed you too.
Carhartt and I took our last ride today. He normally doesn't enjoy car trips but I took my time on the old dirt roads and I rolled down the window so he could see outside. And although time made him deaf and partly blind, and certainly in pain, I think I saw him smile as the world rolled by outside.
He had nothing left to do in life, but just to finally rest. So I laid him to rest in the back field behind the barn. And I cried. And the young lady did too. And so did the little boys that aren't so little anymore.
Kim calls him the greatest dog ever.
It's helpful to me in times like this to remember that he wasn't. I read last week about a dog that died rescuing people from an earthquake. He certainly never did that.
He had his faults.
Despite my repeated admonitions he chased a lot of cars in his younger days until he lost his leg in that pursuit.
He killed an awful lot of the neighbors chickens.
He chewed up all of Shirley's porch cushions one day.
He also ate a pie that she put out to cool.
He would go over to the other neighbors' place and pick fights with their dogs.
So you see, he wasn't perfect. But he was an awful good dog for me.
As I hobbled in on my crutches all the animals were going crazy and every dog in the place was barking his head off except for the one I had picked out on the website. I walked up to him and said hello and he accompanied me on a short walk outside and then calmly sat next to me in the sunlight. His history was that he had been picked up in a park, he and another dog had been tipping over trash cans. His accomplice had just been adopted the day before. I signed the papers and took him home.
I knew he wasn't going to keep the name Giorgio, but I struggled with what to call him. Until one day when I came in from working outside and I dropped my Carhartt overalls on the floor and sat on the couch. He came and laid down on top of the overalls and I was struck by how his fur matched the canvas color so perfectly, and what better rugged name for a rugged dog, than Carhartt.
Carhartt made many friends over the last 14 years. They were always drawn to his calm personality. He was independent and not needy, but at the same time he would dutifully make his rounds when I had people over, stopping in front of each person in turn so they could enjoy petting his big head.
What many of those people may not have realized is that he was a comical dog too. I found this picture of when I decided to have him "help" me drag some branches up to the house. His branch was tiny but he ultimately collapsed in the harness with an overly dramatic sigh.
After a full hour of this type of guard duty he returned after chasing his last animal and he walked through the door of the tent and gave me a look. That one look said "Why on earth did we drive out here to this very dangerous place where all of these animals live. This was not my idea, and therefore I am done with guard duty." Without breaking stride he walked all the way to the back of the tent, made sure that I was solidly between him and the door through which any animals would attack, and he curled up at my feet and went to sleep.
Carhartt saw our old modular home get torn in two and hauled away. He saw us take forever to get a new house built. He tolerated a young lady coming into our life with her sneezy little dog.
And he took it all with so much grace. I remember one time either Seth or Colin grabbed Carhartt and hurt him and Carhartt was forced to grab their hand in his mouth and remove it from his body. He did it as gently as he could but of course it still scared the little boy. Before I even realized what had happened Carhartt rushed over to me and looked up at me with his gentle eyes that said "I'm very sorry, but I need to file an incident report."
There is one more story that is particularly poignant to me. I took Carhartt with me down to Osawatomie one day to work on the old modular home after it had been relocated onto its new lot and put up for sale. I let him out of the truck and opened the front door for him and we went inside. Immediately he got very excited and started quickly pacing around the familiar rooms looking here and there with joy. But then he looked out the window and the sight was unfamiliar and he looked at me with questioning eyes. I couldn't explain to him that it is impossible to turn back time. It rushes by changing everything around you, and when you settle to the ground again like a wind-tossed leaf you look and see that it has changed you too.
Carhartt and I took our last ride today. He normally doesn't enjoy car trips but I took my time on the old dirt roads and I rolled down the window so he could see outside. And although time made him deaf and partly blind, and certainly in pain, I think I saw him smile as the world rolled by outside.
He had nothing left to do in life, but just to finally rest. So I laid him to rest in the back field behind the barn. And I cried. And the young lady did too. And so did the little boys that aren't so little anymore.
Kim calls him the greatest dog ever.
It's helpful to me in times like this to remember that he wasn't. I read last week about a dog that died rescuing people from an earthquake. He certainly never did that.
He had his faults.
Despite my repeated admonitions he chased a lot of cars in his younger days until he lost his leg in that pursuit.
He killed an awful lot of the neighbors chickens.
He chewed up all of Shirley's porch cushions one day.
He also ate a pie that she put out to cool.
He would go over to the other neighbors' place and pick fights with their dogs.
So you see, he wasn't perfect. But he was an awful good dog for me.
