A Dog Named Nick

A Dog Named Nick

“I want the male runt of the litter.” I told my youngest daughter that she put the collar on the puppy. We took the puppy from our home in Louisiana to our home in New York. Several days later, the oldest daughter called and asked if we had the other female. I picked up Nick and discovered that Nick was not Nick. She had already learned her name, so Nick she was. The veterinarian’s assistant looked at the dog’s name, then at the dog: “Are you aware this is a female?” That was the wrong question to ask me: “Yes, I know it is a female. Thus began a friendship that lasted eight short years. I often wonder what Nick thought. She was a very intelligent German Shepherd with an attitude. She was a loyal companion and loved to ride in the car and later the truck. I think her point of view was more of an observation of how silly human beings truly are. My dad and Nick were buddies; he would bring a large dog bone with him. When he would visit. Nick also had a quirky sense of humor. My dad came over for dinner. I warned him not to cross his legs, but Dad, being Dad, did just that. Nick put a rubber ring over his foot and gleefully pulled Dad off the chair he had been sitting in. He was now on the floor. Nick was sorry after all; he always brought her a bone. She kissed him on the cheek to make him feel better. Nick was never to be outdone; she taught herself to open and close windows, especially the car window when we went to the bank, the woman always gave her a bone. Nick and our cousin Karen were comical. Nick closed her nose in the window, decided Karen did it; the whole way home, she nibbled at the back of Karen’s head as if to say: “This is what happens when you close my nose in the window.” Karen also learned that Nick thought of her as an object of tug-of-war. It was icy, and Nick knew I was ready to take Karen home. Nick began to tug at Karen’s hand; the next thing I heard was a thump. Nick, in her exuberance, pulled Karen into the house next door. My neighbor looked out her window: Nick pulling Karen in the direction of the car. Nick had a memory like an elephant. She had a green squeaky frog that she played with. My husband or I would throw it, and she would bring it back. Then came the fateful day, and the frog was in pieces. My husband put it in the garbage, thinking that was the end of the frog. Nick had other thoughts: this was her toy, and her human put it in the garbage. She went to the garbage can, sniffed until she found it, then brought it back to my husband, as if to say: “this is mine hands off”. My husband once again threw the frog in the garbage. Nick had other thoughts. This became a battle of wills between Nick and my husband. Finally, after several days, my husband took the pieces of the frog to work and put them in the dumpster. No more frog, Nick did not bother the garbage again until we had pizza one night, and she always got a small piece of crust. We forgot, but Nick certainly did not forget. She trotted over to the garbage, then began to pace. Finally, it dawned on us that she did not get her piece of pizza. Her eyes said it all: “You forgot to give me my piece of pizza. Nick loved to ride in the car; she knew four blocks from my dad’s home where she was going. Dad, heaven forbid, liked to take a nap in the afternoon. We walked into the house, Nick woke dad out of sound sleep, she tugged at his hand until he got up and got her a bone. She might have been thinking: “Come on, get up, where is my bone?” Nick, Earl, and I went to truck driving school. Nick versus the cat was something to behold. Nick did not like cats; she chased them every chance she got. I guess she was not fond of my cousin either; there was an underlying feud between them, the reason was the cat. She is a cat person, and I am a dog person. Nick’s adventures on the truck began right after Christmas; we placed Nick in a kennel. It was terrible and expensive. The truck company wants a one-thousand-dollar deposit, which we gladly paid. Nick was the best dog alarm anywhere. There were two ‘ladies of the evening’ wanting to get in the truck. My husband told the one: “If you think you can get past that dog, you can use the CB. Nick began to growl, and her hackles were up. The two women decided it would be more prudent to find a different truck. We stopped for dinner one evening near Memphis. Upon returning to the truck, the passenger door was wide open. My husband questioned me as to whether I had forgotten to close the door, I told him no. Nick sat on my seat with a rather odd look as if to say: “I am dog patrol duty; I stopped someone from breaking into the truck.” Two weeks later, we had thirty-four hours off; a motel and hot shower seemed like a good idea, except the motel did not allow dogs. We explained to the woman on duty the situation. She gave us a key and had us go up the back way. Nick made no noise. I have no doubt she was thinking: “crazy people”! Time has a way of moving on; my dad passed away. We drove by car from Houston, Texas, to Buffalo, New York; we arrived at my dad’s. Nick looked all over the house for him. How do you explain to a dog that her third favorite human was gone? My husband went and got her a bone, and she continued looking for my dad. In December 2000, Nick became ill. We were in Winchester, Virginia, at a Flying J. Nick was non-responsive to my husband. He carried her back to the truck. I ran into the “C” store and asked the clerk where the closest veterinarian was; she informed me there was one two exits down. We took her there, tests were run, then the devastating call came from the veterinarian, Nick had kidney failure, we had two choices. One we would have to change her diet, she would have to go out every hour, the other choice was euthanasia. That night, we talked about both options, we called the veterinarian, asked her some pointed questions, and decided to have it euthanized. We went into the office, and an assistant brought Nick in. I thought my heart was going to break; she had an IV in her paw. She limped in; the look in her eyes said, “Can we please get this over with?” We took her collar off, went out to the truck, and cried. Nick was still a presence. I called the oldest daughter to let her know Nick was coming home. She simply could not understand how Nick was going to come home until she had to sign papers for her. She called me in hysterics: “I knew you said Nick was coming home, but I could not understand how, she is here, what should I do with her?” I asked her to put Nick on the piano, she freaked: “I can’t do that, Russ will freak.” I told her to put Nick in the desk drawer and I would take care of her when I got home. I think Nick met dad at the Rainbow Bridge, at least I hope so.