Sarge, Part 2: Fetch!

Through some logistical miracle, Sarge has managed to hang on at the shelter for nearly a week now. Yesterday, I needed to take young Nedra (who appears to be a Pointer/Jack Russel Terrier Mix... talk about your energetic dogs!) out to burn off some excess jitters. Sarge wasn't at all happy about being indoors on such a nice day, so I took him out as well. I figured, why not let the old fella' hang about and watch the puppy ricochet around? Why not, indeed.

I threw a tennis ball across the yard, and Nedra chased it playfully. Sarge watched intently. The next throw was a bank-shot off of a wall, and Nedra homed in on it like a missile. Suddenly, there was a flash of black, a flurry of grass, and the ball was gone from under her nose. Sarge ambled over to me, chewing the tennis ball absently, and dropped it at my feet. A few more throws saw the two dogs racing each other to the ball, having a grand old time. Then Sarge leapt up and snatched the ball out of the air. After that, little Nedra plopped down where she stood, and just watched the old German Shepherd admiringly.

Pretty darned spry for an 8-year-old...

Today was another good day for fetch, and Sarge got to stretch his legs solo this time. He's not too keen on the big red rubber ball, but the felt-covered tennis balls bring out the puppy in him. I honestly had no idea that he could run that fast, jump that high, or scramble that nimbly. It was obvious that he was having a great time, and just as obvious how proud he was when he'd manage to grab the ball in-flight. And every time, without fail, he'd bring the ball back to me, ready for another go.

After a good, long game, I decided it was time to head inside. I put the ball down, walked over to the gate, and picked up Sarge's leash. He followed cheerfully, but stopped a few feet short. Looking around for a second, he darted back across the yard, grabbed the tennis ball, and nudged it into my hand. We did a second round of fetch, until he seemed satisfied. Then he politely tucked his head into his leash, and we headed back inside.

All the way from the playpen to the back door of the kennel area, he pranced along like a puppy as he walked.


UPDATE (7/27): When we came to the shelter today, Sarge was gone. We figured he'd been euthanized first thing in the morning, but it turns out the old boy was adopted! We are thrilled for him and hope he and his new family are a good match. Much love to you, Sarge and to Ryan and Addie, his new "parents!"

Sarge

I have to admit, it puzzles me a bit when I see older dogs and cats being brought into the animal shelter. Don't get me wrong; I know why a lot of people do it, and I understand their reasoning.

I've seen a 14-year-old Cocker Spaniel at the shelter. In human terms, that's close to being a centenarian. Failing eyesight, dental problems, and a tumor about the size of a tennis ball on one shoulder. Not easy to look at and remember that it was once a bouncing puppy just a few short years ago. Heartbreaking to realize that same bouncing puppy quite likely won't be around much longer. In our own household, it's been a rough 18 months; we've lost a cat to illness, a bird to old age, and we have another aged cat who will be lucky if he survives another few months. It's never easy on the pet owners.

But I'd think that it's harder for the pets themselves.

I'm pretty sure that Sarge has no idea what he's doing here. He's part German Shepherd, and looks like he might have a little Akita in him as well. He's strong for his age, and confident. He's good with other dogs most of the time, even the little puppies who just don't understand what respecting one's elders is all about. Sure, his eyes may not be what they were eight years ago, and he's got some patches of dry skin and shots of grey in his fur. You'd have a hard time convincing him that any of that triviata matters, though.

I like walking with good ol' Sarge. I'm a "big dog" kind of person anyway (as if dogs like Johann and Engel weren't a giveaway there), but there's a certain ineffible quality that a lot of older dogs bring with them that's as delightful as it is elusive. Dignified but not too stuffy; proud, yet strangely affable: Sarge tries to shoot for that narrow line between the contradictions. He sometimes even manages to pull it off without too many malaprops.

Don't get me wrong - Sarge is far from genteel at times. He doesn't really understand why you look at him crossly for marking that tree, or for "mounting" that uppity youngster up in his grill. I think he genuinely assumes that every other dog in the world admires him, and he's like some kind of "Awkward Uncle Albert" trying too hard to be groovy with the younger set. He doesn't argue or complain when you correct him, but it's really, really hard to be stern with him; Sarge just carries that much unabashed affection in him.

As I write this, I know that he's been at the shelter far too long. And I know he may well be gone forever (or gone to live with someone else) before I get a chance to see him again. Strange as it sounds, a part of me is perfectly fine with that. No matter what happens from this point on, I know that Sarge managed to figure out something really important. Something that a lot of people never even come close to realizing, with all their superior brainpower.

Sarge has found his happy place, and it's not a place at all. It's wherever he happens to be.