Not just a dog
- November 10th, 2011
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Bangalore, India
“Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.” — Roger Caras
Michac was never just a dog to our family.
Never quite sure he was pure Rottweiler, we often wondered if he didn’t have a touch of black lab in his bloodline. Predominately black with tan and gold markings, he was a handsome animal and looked like a rott, regardless of his genetics. He often smiled at us – and yes, he really did. In 44 years of life, I’ve never met a better dog, and I don’t expect I ever will again.
Michac died two years ago, and soon thereafter, I began this post. I couldn’t bring myself to finish it then. In his honor, I’ll finish it today.
Our friend Joel saved Michac. As the story goes, Michac’s original owners were leaving the country and couldn’t take a pet with them. They’d tried repeatedly to find a new home for the dog. Time was getting short. If they couldn’t adopt him out to a new family, they’d have to put him to sleep.
Joel jumped at the opportunity to take him — he’d met our female rottydog, Roxy, and knew rottweilers weren’t the devil-dogs the media portrays them as. Joel and Michac could be seen walking all over Cordova, Alaska, together. I remember the first time Joel introduced him to me – I don’t know who was more proud, Joel, or Michac, who grinned ear-to-ear and licked my fingers, then headed off to bigger adventures!
After a short few months, Joel called one day to ask me if I’d take Michac. His girlfriend couldn’t keep him and Joel had joined the Army. As soon as I got off work, I went to fetch Michac. He came happily, jumped in the backseat of our Ford Explorer, ate a snack from my hand in one giant sluuuuurp! and laid his big, ol’ head on my arm as I drove back home.
Our lives were never the same. My son and Michac were both two years-old when Michac became part of our family. The biggest Scooby Doo dog I’ve ever seen in person, Michac’s personality was such that no matter what was going on in our lives, his unconditional love and acceptance, so unlike that of humans, cheered our souls each and every time he was near us.
People were scared of him, which baffled me. He was big, true, but a giant puppy through and through. Of course, I saw the best in him. Folks would tell me stories about this ferocious beast in my truck that’d scare the living daylights out of them when they’d walk too close to the parked rig. Or on the rare occasion, the growls and barks coming from within our house when Michac would be staying home alone and someone would knock on our door.
Looking out the window one morning, I watched Michac run toward our neighbor at full speed, tongue blowing in the breeze, big, silly, slobbery grin on his canine face. He was so excited to see *Harold! I think Harold peed his Carharts that day, running to my house, cussing up a storm! “Your damn dog is going to kill someone! He tried to attack me! You need to keep him inside!” When I explained the behavior I’d witnessed, Harold just turned away, grumbling to himself and headed back home. Harold, I swear, he just wanted to love on you. The same way you tried to love on all the women, come the end of fishing season with a few warm shots in your belly. All good-natured fun!
Michac was a lover, not a fighter. Misconceptions abound, true enough. But truth be told, it wasn’t the Rottweiler in the neighborhood who bit children. Have you read any of the “Good Dog, Carl,” series of books by Alexandra Day? That’s Michac.
He passed away two years ago this month. “He was THE WORLD’S BEST DOG, EVER,” as my son would say so many times during the last two years. Michac’s heart was gold from the first moment.
We miss you, Michac.
Love,
Your Family
*Harold is not Scaredy-cat’s real name.
