In Loving Memory of Ike
January 1991-November 20, 1996
As for my own pets, I've now settled in with 6 big dogs, a cat, a cockatiel, and foster others needing help. But of all the animals that have crossed my path, Ike is one baby I'll never forget. He's passed on to hopefully better things but blessed my life in ways that will always warm my heart.
I was working at an animal shelter when our paths first crossed. He was about 4 months old and was brought in by his owner who stated that he had accidentally run over him with his car, couldn't afford a vet (so he didn't know how bad he was hurt) and his wife didn't want him anyway; so could we put him down. There before me was the fluffiest puppy I'd ever seen and seemed in relatively good spirits considering what he'd been through. We accepted him into the shelter but I had other plans for him than death.
After they left I called my husband, told him the story and made arrangements for him to come see him after work. Now, here we have a puppy in strange surroundings, hurt and scared, yet never made a whimper or showed aggression of any kind. To make a long story short (or a short story shorter) we took him home. After visiting a vet we found that he had a broken shoulder, an abrasion or two but was otherwise in good health. He was to be kenneled for 6-8 weeks to help him heal.
His recovery time ended up being spent in ways NOT recommended by the vet. He could "be out of the kennel if on our laps (watching TV) but otherwise in bed." Imagine this if you will, you turn your back for a split second to reach around the corner to get something only to find that he had switched couches to sit on. When asked what he was doing, he'd jump down again and go back "where he belonged." Of course, this didn't happen right away. After about 5 ½ weeks of containment, he graduated into regular family life with never a limp or a whimper ever to be seen or heard.
Ike was like no other. He had the manners of a gentleman, the heart big enough for all (two or four legged) and personality plus. He was eager to please and quickly learned any lessons being taught. One example being, as he was jumping up his dew claws would scratch every time. Through very little effort from me (and very unintentionally I assure you) he learned to turn his back as he came up allowing me to catch his paws away from me, offering his soft furry back as the only source of contact.
Ike was a keeshond mix (probably with shepherd) and had a beautiful black and white coat that shined when brushed. When peaked on something his ears would be straight up and he was the most beautiful dog I'd ever seen. As for minding, without ever having one obedience lesson, he'd come when called no matter how far out in the yard and whether I was outside or calling from inside the garage. And I never had to repeat the call. With a lope and a bound he'd race to my side without question or hesitation.
After only four short years of sharing my life with this wonderful dog, God decided that he had other plans for him. Ike developed spleen cancer and within two weeks of the first visit he had gone from a normal looking male to looking like a female ready to whelp. It was thought to be a severe bladder infection, but on the follow up visit we were told the real awful truth.
It was decided that the tumor had grown so fast that even surgery was a risk and that IF he survived, he'd return within 6 months with yet another one. Loving him as I did I couldn't condemn him to living his final days like that and I made the very difficult decision to send him on. I stayed with him during the injection, talking to him, stroking him, trying to ease his fears. After all, what had he done but given me his best in the truest form of love and loyalty. Though it only took seconds before he was gone I reassured him that I was sorry for what I had to do and asked him to please forgive me.
Though I left him there that day, within two days time we retrieved his body and buried it in the best place I could find. In a shady open spot among the trees where he'd be cool in the summer and nearby so we could talk. Far enough from the others so as not to be bothered, yet home where he belonged. Somehow digging his grave was therapeutic for me, almost like preparing a room for someone coming to visit. It had to be just right. Depth, width, and proximity from home to resting place was gauged and measured until it met with my satisfaction.
I found the story about Rainbow Bridge shortly after that and though it made me cry, it offered me relief in knowing that there was a place for him to play, well and happy, until we could be reunited. I talk to him whenever I'm in the corner of the yard closest to his resting spot and try to visit anytime I'm walking that part of the property. Though his body is gone, his spirit lives on and to this day I can still see him running in from the back corner of the yard, tail wagging, eyes soft with recognition and a temperament befitting only one of God's finest creatures that he ever blessed the earth with. And I count myself very lucky to have been given the chance to care for him the short time he was here. I guess I can't blame God for wanting Ike by his side. To know him is to love him. And his previous owners will never know the treasure they so easily discarded. Their loss was definitely my gain. Thank you God for entrusting his wonderful life into my hands. I only hope that he'll know how he touched me then, now and forever.
