I do so more than one year after the fact because his loss hit me harder than any other before.
Honoring the Life of the perfect
service Dog
Born of an inglorious conception into
the dust, heat, filth and a cluttered backyard in Southern California
he spent the first eight years of his life in an equally filthy,
dirty, hot and uninspiring backyard of a dilapidated house.
Cats, squirrels and rats were his
companions while human contact was a rare exception – except for
more or less infrequent visits by two children of his “family”.
Not a good life for a Boxer that craves
human company and affection!
In fact, that is not a good life for
any dog.
Tys on guard duty.
Then it got even worse. One day the
mother packed children and Boxer in to her car and
headed for the nearest animal shelter. There she surrendered him to
be killed.
The children fought desperately for his
life. To no avail. No help, no compassion other than the sympathy of
bystanders who treated the mother with scorn and contempt when she
tried to explain her action:
“I am sick and tired to see his ugly
black face sitting in my backyard.”
But you put him there, you despicable
piece of human garbage!
I first saw him four hours before his
scheduled execution.
He greeted me with the usual Boxer
exuberance inviting himself to a round of play. Yet, when I looked
straight into his eyes to explore his personality, they changed in an
instant from happy, open and friendly to guarded, reserved and
defensively stubborn.
“Oh, not with me, my friend”, I
told him.
“You just lost your last chance of
redemption”, I added walking away from his kennel.
Something prompted me to look back from
15 to twenty yards away. What I saw was amazing.
A dark paw was protruding as far as
possible from between the bars of his kennel door vigorously waving
up and down. I HAD to return to the death candidate.
“Hey, you just saved your life. But
do not ever do this again”, I warned him walking away a second
time.
And that is how Tyson the unloved,
unwanted, neglected and abandoned Boxer from a filthy backyard from
one of the most run down neighborhoods of the San Fernando Valley
came into my life. He eventually morphed into my loyal, well behaved,
gentle, considered and treasured service dog. His undying dedication
to faithfully serving me in my lonely life lasted until the very last
moments of the six years he gave me the honor of sharing his life and
companionship with me.
Tyson was a wild man at first. He had a
tendency to run away, was scared of everything unfamiliar and shunned
the company of humans for many months. He even stayed away from me
most of the time.
It took the better part of a year to
teach him the basics of living in a house (though he strangely was
house broken from the first moment on) and to rid him of fear of the
unknown.
The stubbornness I first noticed at the
shelter stayed with him causing chaos and disharmony until I
accidentally discovered the key to his heart. After one of his
infamous episodes of stubborn resistance that forced me to “boss”
him unceremoniously into the car, I took his head into my two hands
to explain to him the futility of his resistance. Unexpectedly and in the blinking of an eye it happened: His eyes
glazed over and he smacked his lips in delight.
At that memorable instant Tyson, the
wild man, became Tys, a Boxer that had revealed the way to his heart
and undying dedication. From then on he was easy to train. In fact,
he almost trained himself by diligently observing what pleased me and
by then acting accordingly. It was his way to thank me for giving him
what he had been missing for so many years: Affection and close
contact with humans.
I am disabled for life with a fatal
heart condition that can kill me at any moment. I also live all alone
without relatives nearby. Getting sick and incapacitated even from a
common cold can leave me helpless and unable to summon help. Tys
understood that perfectly well.
When I stricken with a very, very bad
cold that made me fall into coma like sleep over and over again for
two nights and three days, I found Tys sitting straight up right next
to me every time I awoke. His black face had a serious and worried
look on it. He would carefully and closely examine my face, sniffing
my nasal area most deliberately.
Thereafter I taught him the skills
needed to become a licensed service dog. No, not one of the phony
service dogs with a cheap, glaring service dog patch that one can purchase on
the Internet.
He had to do better.
Tys learned everything a real service
dog must know to pass the rigorous test given by the local animal
control service. Tys, grandpa Tys for his was already past his prime,
passed his test with flying colors and became a licensed California
service dog – SM#09. He wore his small official license tag with
pride. It also opened an entirely new world to him that was closed
and unreachable for so long. He enjoyed his new life immensely. It lasted for about five years. Five happy years for a happy dog. He was known as the "happy dog" in our local park - just as his predecessor Windsor.
But it is one of the tenets of life that happiness never can last forever. There seems to be a dark power that eventually will attempt to destroy it. Tys would not have any part of it. In 2012 he showed the first signs of myelopathy. Yet he
continued to run around in the park chasing squirrels even after his hind legs started to fail him.
He stood up like a man to eat when they barely could hold him up. His condition worsened in early 2013. He needed a wheelchair to get around despite expensive treatments, chiropractic care and his undying fighting spirit. He simply refused to give up.
He fought degenerative myelopathy for more than one year while still attending to his duties. Fully paralyzed on his hind legs, incontinent and increasingly unable to use his front legs to pull his wheelchair he carried on. A virulent, fast moving cancer finally did him in.
Tys died on September 27, 2013 at the age of 14 years and four months or slightly older.
His loss hit me harder than any other before because Tys was a fighter. He fought for his good life and to remain my companion to his last breath.
Even the vet who had never seen him before and knew nothing about him stated: "He is a fighter, a mighty fighter."
In fact, Tys, my incomparable, extraordinarily loyal and faithful companion and servant did not leave me without doing one last act of service and love.
Knowing that I am all alone, always in mortal danger of a quick demise and that I need assistance, Tys worked the greatest of all miracles: He managed to be reborn or at least to transfer his soul into a look-alike.
Nero is the new Tys.
It takes a good close look to see the difference.
No wonder, the mind and soul of Tys resides within Nero. He has taken on Tyson's personality and tasks. He became a trained, state licensed service dog like his two predecessors.
When I follow my three assistants, friends and companions, I do so in the certain knowledge that no man can experience greater blessings than a succession of three dedicated, selfless, loyal and faithful friends beyond the grave.
PJJ
