Whitey is dining in Valhalla

Discussion in 'Truckers Pet Stop' started by Tazz, Jan 1, 2017.

  1. Tazz

    Tazz Infidel Supporter

    We had a litter of puppies in the spring of '99 that was never supposed to happen. Mom was going to be a hog dog and Dad was just a mutt from another pairing with a buddies female. We had 8 puppies to get rid of. Most had brindle coloring and when my wife went to Walmart to give them away after two trips we had on little white puppy with brindle patches on his head and a spot on his butt. Since going to try to give away one was a waste we decided to just find someone along the way to give him to. After the 947th time I walked into puppy poo in the kitchen because the kids had not locked him back in his cage I threatened to just give him a run way ride to the dairy. He met me at the door ready to go. Told my wife "I am taking the White one with me". He did not have a name yet, well I guess he did, but I did not know it yet.

    After the first day I was going to leave him at the dairy but he kept up with me all day, through milking, feeding, hospital herd.......when I parked the cart and headed for my pickup I put an old blanket in the back of the cart, it stayed parked in a shed behind the parlor, and a bowl of water by the door. But when I got to my truck he was right on my heel jumping on the running board. zHe had tunneled out under the door that quick. No yipping, no whining just stating "Let's go home". Figured what the hell and loaded him up.

    I remember telling him "Look you have to pull your own weight. I am not going to be lifting you in and out of this damn truck all the time" He soon got where if I would leave the door open he could hit the step and up into the floor by himself. So began our relationship. Every morning he would eat while I drank a cup of coffee and off to work we would go. He was just my running mate. No herding, well except for that damn goat, no real work on his part other than watching my back, and commandeering my lunch if I left it where he could get to it.

    The only time we were apart was when I would make calf runs. I would leave him home with the family. I always told him "Watch the house Whitey" and he would take a position on the front porch. Crys always told me he would only move if someone approached or to use the bathroom. We did eventually get the entire crapping in the kitchen problem sorted out.

    It is funny my electric meter guy would call "Hey is Whitey home?" If he was I would have Crys call him back with the reading. He and Whitey had one run in. He told me the thing that scared the crap out of him was that he never barked. Just a low rumble as he was headed for him full tilt. Guy dove into the back of Crys's car. Whitey just sat there waiting for him. The other dogs eventually caught on and started raising a fuss to alert Crys something was up. That was Whitey in a nutshell though. Acta non Verba. He would have no idea what that meant but it is how he lived. No flash, no bravado, just do the job. After everything was calmed down he would usually go check on the kids.

    My Father and Whitey never got along. They would tolerate each other. He nipped Dad one time, Dad's fault, but when he went to get on to him he treed Dad in a big old oak out by herd 3. I never would have guessed he could climb a tree, but with the proper motivation he turned part monkey. Oh he was hot, and wanted Whitey put down, or at least muzzled but when I finally got the entire story Whitey was acting in self defense.

    Through the years he would tolerate people so long as I was there. Maybe that is why we bonded the way we did. Neither of us had much use for people. And it showed in the mailmen, gas man, meter reader, dog catchers, friends, family he would eventually put on notice that he was watching my family. Trespassers would be dealt with.

    Whitey has trained two generations of dogs on defending this home and family. When we first moved to Tennessee there were a couple bullmastiffs guy down the street refused to keep on his property. He had buffaloed the neighborhood into believing since they were so big and bad best to just let them wander where they wished. Not gonna fly with Whitey. They may have had my brother on the ropes before I jumped in, but he was still in the fight giving as good as he got. We both carried some scars out of that battle, but we were still on this side of the dirt. And the neighborhood learned that fence on my property was for their protection, not Whitey's. Sienna recovered from her injuries but Whitey became super protective of her. She could not go outside without him, or he would light into her.

    This Christmas Whitey spent the day at my feet. As I helped the grandkids assemble toys, install batteries, maybe ensure the remote control truck functioned properly WHitey remained right by my side. I figured it was a lot of commotion, and he was just being Whitey. Crys called me on Thursday saying Whitey would not eat. She took him to the vet and the diagnosis was old age. After I got done yelling the second vet said it was probably congestive heart failure, or cushing's (who knew dogs could get that?) he had a growth on his neck that was swelling rapidly. His stomach bloated, and he could barely walk. When I got home I would carry my brother out to use the restroom, and we were working on trying to treat him. I know people kept saying to end it. But they did not see my brother fight to stand and walk to me when I came home. They did not feel the weight he leaned into me when I gave him a hug. I told him "As long as you want to fight I am with you buddy."

    Yesterday morning he waddled out and put his head on my leg. Then he walked to the front door. I was impressed and thought we may have dodged another bullet. There have been several times in his life where illness or injury seemed sure to take him from me. Every Time we fought with all we had and won. Yesterday we lost. My brother laid down in the front yard and refused to move anymore. I called the vet after treats, food, even a fresh steak failed to get him to come inside.

    My brother passed at 1300.

    Goodbye Brother I shall see you in the hall.
    Last edited: Jan 1, 2017
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  2. Tazz

    Tazz Infidel Supporter

    Whitey's couch

    Telling Crys she better get that camera out of his face
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  3. Tazz

    Tazz Infidel Supporter

  4. r3gulator3

    r3gulator3 Well-Known Member

    I am sorry for your loss. It sucks to lose one so cherished
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  5. GAnthony

    GAnthony Well-Known Member

    sorry for your loss, i too have gone thru this, and it sucks big time.
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  6. 8978

    8978 ** Commie Express ** Supporter

    Tough to lose a pet. I'll never own a dog again.
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  7. Tazz

    Tazz Infidel Supporter

    Whitey and Mickey. Full size Chevy just for a size reference. Mickey keeps going to the front door this morning and sniffing. I guess he wonders when Whitey will come back in. Guess it is time to get over the hangover and take him outside.
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  8. GAnthony

    GAnthony Well-Known Member

    i know, it's so much easier to own a human....
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  9. Hammer166

    Hammer166 Instigateur №166™

    Dammit @Tazz, quit blowing that dust in our eyes! Can't see when they're watering like this...

    Awesome tribute to your brother. Peace.
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  10. Inkeper

    Inkeper Well-Known Member

    Sometimes it sucks what certain dogs can do to us. But isn't it great what they do to us as well. I've been blessed to have had two such dogs in my life. Whitey's legacy will be tough for any future dog to live up to.
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  11. Blood

    Blood Driveler Emeritus Supporter

    We babysat last night so the kids could go out for an early dinner and settle in early with company they had coming over for NYE.

    We made pizza and I gave Chance extra crust...
    with some cheese & bacon.

    I told him about Whitey.

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  12. rigjockey

    rigjockey Token Canadian.

    Sorry for your loss @Tazz
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  13. ironpony

    ironpony Well-Known Member Supporter

    Sorry dude. They're people, and its really tough when they go.
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  14. Southern Fried

    Southern Fried Well-Known Member

    You did your job Tazz. You gave him love to the end. That's better than most "pets" get.
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  15. Southern Fried

    Southern Fried Well-Known Member

    One of the hardest things to explain to "outsiders" is that we keep our "friends" well past their "usefulness". It sickens me how many people just dump one of these little lives when they're no longer "cute" or need just a little more help or become "inconvenient". We have Oliver right now. A Katrina refugee who was a grown cat with behavioral problems when we got him. In fact, he was destined for euthanasia because he was so wild. Barb and I said Hell No. Oh, he's been a trial by times. Right now, he's old (at least 14) and scrawny. We have him on wet food cause dry food don't digest well for him. Sometimes he has "accidents" on the way to potty (i stepped in one 5:30 AM this morning). But he's still bright eyed and fairly active..... and purrs like crazy when petted.

    Yes, it would be easier to just put him down and forget him.... and if he starts hurting and such, we will. We're not stupid enough to let him suffer. But Barb and I are both old and have our hurts. We're "inconvenient" for alot of people.

    Tazz, you have my respect for standing by your buddy. Hat's off to both you and Whitey". :thumbsup:
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  16. Injun

    Injun Rabid Squaw Staff Member Supporter

    I have been owned by three cats and one Basenji, which is actually a cat in a dog's pajamas.

    They all touched my life deeply in their own way and none can ever be replaced.
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  17. Chewbacca

    Chewbacca Well-Known Member

    Sorry for your loss. You gave him a wonderful life.
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  18. Sinister

    Sinister Smartass Emeritus Supporter

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  19. Blood

    Blood Driveler Emeritus Supporter

    My dad's dad raised boxers.
    So did my mom's brother.
    My brother used to raise boxers & pits.

    We always had a dog when I was growing up but I don't think any of my dad's [three] brothers had dogs.
    I remember dad talking about how his dad would only buy coffee, cheese & dogfood during the depression.
    I remember more than once dad saying, We would have starved to death before those damn dogs would have ever went hungry!

    We always had a dog...
    but my dad wouldn't buy dogfood to save his soul!

    Snoopy [yeah, I know] was my childhood dog.
    Snoopy was a boxer-shepherd mix.

    Until she got really old, she only ever went after three people.
    Two of them turned out to be total douche-bags...
    the third is still a suspect!
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  20. Blood

    Blood Driveler Emeritus Supporter

    Chance is a piece of work.
    I showed him no respect for the first few years of his life.

    Chance is the nephew of Baby and both are grandchildren of Turbo.
    Baby was the first dog we risked for a while after growing weary of the heartbreak.

    Baby grew to be the finest looking boxer you ever saw!
    We had her ears pinned, somewhat reluctantly because of social resistance towards such amendments in that time...
    but as it turned out I wasn't sorry for it.

    She was as broad as tall and whether she stood or sat you couldn't see a damn thing except for muscle and heart.
    I installed an invisible fence and walked her around the perimeter of our property day after day.
    She did well but she still wasn't much more than a playful pup.

    One day she tore out across the highway after a neighbor's trash.


    what? [head cocked]


    So she did.

    Big ol' Mercury Marquis dragging ass in the right lane...


    So she did.

    Mercury started veering left.






    I swear that old bastard hit her intentionally!
    I knew the car from around and I went to the local diner for 3 or 4 days after that watching for him but I only saw him a time or two after that when I couldn't get there quick enough to confront him.
    I thought he ought to know what it was like to get smacked in the head with terminal velocity via a Louisville Slugger!

    Coupla years later Junior told me he was going to take one of Tripod's pups.

    I dunno J, living in town, I wouldn't risk keeping an outdoor dog.

    Yeah, I know. I thought about that...
    but we're going to take a chance.

    Fast forward....
    Julian is 8.
    Joey is 6.
    Chance is 7.

    I remember babysitting when Joey was 2 or 3...
    both feet on the couch-cushions, both hands on Chance's collar...
    suspended in mid-air.






    He's my puppy.

    Well, you're my puppy.

    And Joey said...


    Joey broke out one day a year or so later while Junior was in the head.
    Chance followed him.
    Junior went screaming after Joey and a neighbor took on the mission and lead the rescue...
    but once he got between Joey n Chance, Chance aborted and went after the neighbor.
    Nipped him pretty good and we thought there might be hell to pay.
    But the neighbor was cool and said that he should have known better.

    Fast forward to NYE 2016.


    What Joey?

    Why are you taking a picture of my puppy?

    he's your friend.

    Thanks for sharing Tazz...
    you F'n asshole!



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