A Tail Told by JD

The road goes on forever and the party never ends. . .

It was normally only a 45 minute drive home from the office for JD, but today. . . . but today the road seemed to go on forever.

Earlier that day, JD's beloved Doberman lost his first fight ever. But this fight was with a formidable opponent; one who rarely lost and left carnage and despair in his wake, because such is the way of Death. JD had called his wife from the road and she sounded lifeless and completely void of emotion. She'd done her crying in private at her office after being stunned with the news that Magnum had died on the veterinarian's operating room table just hours before. Now she was forlorn and numb with the reality that her family was smaller by one.

Pulling into the driveway, JD left his briefcase--and Magnum's leash and collar--in the backseat of his pickup. Grabbing the sack full of burgers and fries, his eyes filled with tears realizing that Magnum would never be around again to partake of his favorite treat: McDonald's french fries. Walking inside, he was greeted by the German Shepherd and their rescue Rottweiler and newest Doberman, a rescue they had named Ari. The dogs knew something was wrong, and as such had tempered their greeting at the door. Instead of making JD feel better, it only made his heart ache all the worse. Setting the sack of food on the kitchen table, he walked into the bedroom where his wife lay staring into the ceiling, but seeing nothing.

And then the flood came.

He'd been told at five years of age that it wasn't manly to cry, and he'd remained steadfast to that view for years. Seeing buddies lost in war, car wrecks and freak accidents had only hardened his resolve to remain stoic and cold when it came to displaying painful emotions. But when he had to take Charlie for her last trip to the vet because she was in pain and could go no further, he'd broken down. And when Alex, their first German Shepherd suddenly had a severe seizure and had to be put down, the tears came again--along with the curses at God and other forces who were responsible for such pain in his life.

And now Magnum was gone, and he could hold the tears back no longer.

He and the wife discussed what had happened: Magnum, at eleven and a half years of age, had been in stellar health for a geriatric dog. But that last evening, something had gone terribly wrong and Magnum's stomach had "turned" and in doing so, constricted around the spleen and causing such damage that the spleen ultimately had to be removed. Magnum was a dog who showed no pain and no fear, and this was his undoing as JD and his wife weren't alerted to Magnum's distress until it was too late. JD rushed Magnum to the vet where he was immediately taken into emergency surgery. Three hours later, the vet called to inform him that Magnum had died at the end of the operation--his heart had just give out due to the tremendous stress it had endured for being in pain so long. In the end, his threshold for pain is what did him in.

Dinner time for the three dogs was especially painful as Magnum's dish, kong and feeding table were taken up and stored away. His Iams Senior Diet would be gulped by him no more, and his thyroid medication would be donated to the Doberman Rescue group to help those dogs who needed it. JD had just gotten in the routine of now preparing dinner for four dogs and Ari, the newest, had almost completed his first whole "down stay" for his food--breaking it only at the last minute. This time, for whatever reason, Ari performed a perfect down stay with the other two dogs for his dinner.

If only Magnum was hear to have seen that. . .

No calls were taken that evening, and the wife turned in early for bed with the aid of prescription sedatives. JD grabbed a painkiller for his head, along with a sedative and washed them both down with a beer--his first in many months--and logged onto the computer. Again, his eyes filled as he read the heartfelt condolences and sympathetic messages from other dog lovers and dog owners who had felt his pain over the loss of their own beloved friends.

And as he began to get drowsy, he headed downstairs for the living room and laid down on the couch. The Rottweiler, who wasn't allowed on the furniture, jumped up on the couch with him and began licking his face. The German Shepherd and Ari curled up on the floor on both ends of the couch. And as JD began to doze fitfully, he remembered Magnum. And he thought of Charlie and Alex and the Head Trainer. . .

Charlie, JD's first rescue Doberman, had been at the Big Kennel for the past five years. She was with Alex on that fateful day in North Carolina, and she was with Magnum as he lay fighting for his life in the operating room.

"Hey," she whispered softly to Magnum, who had his eyes closed and was trying to block out the pain.

"Charlie?" he asked. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," she murmured quietly. "Close your eyes. It's time to come with me."

"It can't be," Magnum protested. "Mom and Dad are counting on me coming back home as soon as we're done with this."

"We'll take care of them," said Charlie. "They took care of us, and we'll always be there to take care of them. And besides, look who's with me."

And as Magnum turned his head, he couldn't believe what he saw.

"Alex?" he asked with disbelief.

"Shhhhhh," Alex said, "it's all right. You're coming with us and we have a lot of catching up to do."

This was too much for Magnum and as he sighed his last breath, the surgeons worked feverishly to restore his pulse, but to no avail. As one doctor who had known Magnum since he'd returned to Texas looked at the monitor, she burst into tears, knowing the world had just lost a special dog.

When Magnum finally opened his eyes again, he looked around in bewilderment. He was standing in front of the Gates Made of Milk Bones and watching them swing open. Walking in with Charlie and Alex, he was immediately greeted by the Head Trainer.

"So you're Him," Magnum stated.

"Yes I am," answered the Head Trainer.

"Boy, I sure wouldn't want to be you when JD finds out I'm here," Magnum said in a dull voice.

"JD and I had a long talk after I called Alex home and I expect he'll be furious with me. In fact, I expect he'll call me out and challenge me again, but being the hot-headed Texan he is, he'll cool down--it just may take a long while."

"You really know him, don't you?" asked Magnum.

"Yes, I do," replied the Head Trainer. "But I also know his Faith is unshakeable which is why he curses me so during times like this."

"Yeah," said Alex. "When you took me, I'd never heard him swear so much except during tax season."

"Well," replied the Head Trainer with a twinkle in his eye. "Tax season will do that even to a Saint."

Charlie and Alex took Magnum around for a quick tour, showing him the Looking Glass, the Rainbow Meadow and the Rabbit Field. After checking him in his condo and gulping down a char-grilled ribeye, Charlie looked at Magnum. "There's something you have to do," she said. "We're going back down to Earth."

"To see Mom and Dad?" asked Magnum hopefully.

"I'm afraid not," Charlie said, shaking her head. "We need to talk to the other dogs."

Back down on Earth, JD was still sleeping fitfully on the couch and his wife was tossing in the bedroom. The house was dark and cool and Eva, the Rottweiler, was still curled up on the couch with JD. Ari, the Doberman and Iko, the German Shepherd were at his feet when they felt a presence. Looking up, Iko saw Magnum.

"You're back!" shouted Iko, jumping up and rushing over to Magnum. "I KNEW you'd be back. Gosh but you had us worried. Mom and Dad have been crying and you weren't here for supper and we didn't know WHAT to think. Glad you're back!"

"Not so fast," said Magnum, as Eva and Ari came closer.

"I know you," said Eva, looking at Charlie. "You were with me at the shelter when they were leading me to the room where I was going to be put to sleep. You told me not to worry that somebody would come along and save me and then somebody else would rescue me."

"I know you too," added Ari. "You grabbed me just before that car could really hit me, and when I lay in the street in pain, you were with me all the way to the vet's office, then to the shelter. And then you stayed with me at the rescue place until Dad showed up--you said he and his wife would take care of me like nobody else could and that I'd be happier than I ever was before."

"And I was right, wasn't I?" said Charlie.

"But how did you know it would be JD and his wife?" asked Eva, as Ari nodded his head asking the same question.

"Because that's who the Head Trainer wanted you to go live with. He knows how much love your new mom and dad have and how badly you were mistreated and abused. He figured if anybody could save you, it would be them. And from the looks of you, it's worked out pretty good."

"Thank you," said Eva. "I've never been happier--but I'm worried because Magnum is going away."

"Same here," Ari said, looking at Magnum and knowing he'd never see him here again.

"So what are we supposed to do now?" asked Iko, in a quivering voice. "Magnum raised me, taught me, and took up for me when I was a pup. We ran together on the beaches, at the lake, through the woods--we went everywhere together with mom and dad. He ran the house. . ."

"That's your job now," said Magnum. "You're the number one dog and just listen to dad and do what he says."

"But dad likes Dobermans," whined Iko, on the verge of tears. "I'll never be his favorite."

"Not true," said Magnum. "He's crazy about you. He takes you to Petsmart all the time and up to his old office in Kansas City and you and he are always out doing stuff together. And besides, doesn't he always call you Little Buddy? He never called me that, ever."

"Yeah, well he also calls me asshole from time to time too" Iko reminded Magnum, to which all the dogs laughed.

"Well, he calls me Turkey Lips," snickered Ari.

"And me Butt Breath," howled Eva.

"Actually, dad just likes to call you Psycho Iko," snickered Magnum. "And let's be honest, sometimes it DOES fit."

"Iko," began Charlie. "It's time for you to run the household here. You're the oldest and you're in charge. Eva and Ari will be right with you, but somebody has to lead this house and that's you. So you guys take care of mom and dad. . . it's your responsibility now."

And as Iko turned away with tears in his own eyes, he got nods of approval from Eva and Ari. "See ya, later then," he sighed in a quivering voice. "I'm gonna miss you, buddy."

"And you never said goodbye to dad," said Ari. "How can you just leave again?"

"Ari," began Charlie. "JD don't believe in good-byes because he believes if you say good-bye, you may never see that friend again. So instead, he just says "see you later" when it's time to go."

"And," Magnum said, so softly that all had to strain to hear it. "Those were his last words to me."

See you later, Magnum

--JD

Magnum, November 30, 1987 -- June 7, 1999

From Shiroi

Just a few, then no more words.

O magnum mysterium, et all mirabilis sacramentum.
Oh great mystery, among all you are most holy.

No fancy tales. Nope, not this time.

My buddy, my pal, my comrade, my brother-in-arms, my brother and his beloved wife are laid low. Their best friend and boon companion has died.

How my comrade and his canine brother became united, joined at the hip, is their business and story. All I need to know is, they were. They had achieved that love that passes understanding. They shared that love with another, and the others in their small family.

And now that family is smaller still.

I am uncertain there is always a reason for all things, if "reason" means it makes sense. Sometimes it doesn't. I'm equally certain that more is revealed in time. Whether we have enough time to get the whole picture is open to conjecture. We do, however, always have the ability to make time enough. Time enough to love, to laugh, to cry, to hurt, to play, to say to a partner "I care" in the ten thousand ways there are without words. I know this family has done just that, always. The Doberman (for that is how he always seemed in my mind) never had words but always told his family, "I care." Now there is no further need for words. That caring remains.

My heart leaps toward my brother and his wife, wishing to ease pain and shoulder burden; knowing it cannot. Some things are private. Should they retire for a while, I must respect that. Should they need or want something, I will provide it if possible. I know all in the circle would and will, gladly.

I can say this for certain: not only did The Doberman and his partner discharge their duty with gusto, verve and purpose, they lived their life large. They did not require the words of the fallen poet: "Say all this and say one thing more -- he loves me. And, having said all, be silent." They did not require the words because they lived the emotion.

Now, all the lights in Fat City have gone dimmer. I am poorer for the loss. All the circle is smaller for the loss.

All bow to fallen majesty.

Copyright © 1999, 2000 by J.D. Kinman and Shiroi Doma. Reprinted with permission of the authors.