Blue’s Story

Right from the beginning, I was drawn to, or rather obsessed with, the 2 powerful elements that seem to dictate all Golden Retriever behaviour; Food and Water. Of course, over time, I would develop a sense of appreciation and eventual love for other pursuits such as sprinting after any detectable creature that was within sniffing distance. I would also partake in scouring whatever backyard property where my owner lived, in order to relieve with clockwork regularity, my 4 x daily dumps. My owner and best friend loved me and I grew to really love him as well. This in essence, is the story of my life however, the good stuff lies in the juicy details, so here we go.

My first few months of life were spent in the vast and beautiful cottage lake country of Ontario, Canada. I lived with a family of 4 and with another Golden Retriever named Brody. It was assumed by my owner at the time, that Brody would serve as a big brother to me. A confidante or mentor but it was not meant to be. I recall watching Brody sit on command and fetch various items that were chucked from the kids and promptly brought back to them. I became a bit misguided while watching this unfold every day and decided to try to impress by taking matters into my own hands.

One afternoon, the family was doing their training tricks with Brody and trying to initiate me with some simpler ones such as sitting or giving my paw. Rather than participate in such activities that seemed to require attentiveness and obedience, I decided that I would wander down to the shoreline of the lake and see if I could find any goodies that I could retrieve and impress my owners with. I had always loved the smell of fish and I was certain in that moment, that my Super Dog nose had detected something impressive.

I waited for my command of “Blue sit!”, then I bolted down to the shoreline, straight towards the spot that my nose had directed me to. There it was, a perfectly plump, albeit dead, rock bass that had been washed ashore. I scooped up that beautifully rancid fish corpse and gleefully walked it back to my somewhat shocked owner who was standing on the cottage deck. Rather than a congratulatory reception, it seemed that she was quite worried and concerned with what I had found. I decided then and there, to hide the evidence. Down the hatch went the dead fish and with it, my super-charged puppy energy. I couldn’t even chase a squirrel after I swallowed that thing, it was like a never-ending gut punch that kept getting more intense by the minute. What would follow this stunt of mine, would be my very first trip to the vet, and operating room. My owners wasted no time in driving me to the closest animal hospital where I could be tended to and have all traces of the putrid fish removed from my insides. Lesson learned! Or so my owners had thought. They stitched me up and after a couple of painful weeks, I was back to normal. Once again fishing, but with the astute help of my owners, who were then watching me like a hawk, and making sure that I stayed clear of the dead ones.

After my first 6 months, it became known in the house that one of the kids had an allergy to dogs and the search began for either me or Brody to be sent off to a new owner. Since Brody had seniority it was me who would have to pack up. Thankfully, the move was to a family friend’s house and it was with that owner (the author), whom I would remain steadily loyal to for life.

It just so happened that my new owner also had a family cottage on the exact lake where I had spent my first 6 months. Access to the water was super easy and I would always be the first to jump in and show off my supreme doggy paddle skills. In fact, on a couple of occasions, I leaped off of the dock and swam after anyone who may have been water-skiing, tubing, knee-boarding etc. I would make it halfway across the lake before my owner would finally pull me into the boat. Once I was safely in the vessel, I would help out with encouragement by cheering on anyone who was being pulled. I would bark and bark continuously in support of my fellow water sports folks.

Sometimes though, my owner would have me stay inside the cottage for fear of my swimming out too far during a water sports outing. The cottage almost always smelled of freshly baked bread, so I didn’t mind so much, being cooped up.

One particular time, there was sitting on the counter, 3 fresh loaves that were still warm from the bakery. They were each wrapped in plastic but the scent of perfectly baked, buttery bread still permeated through the wrapping. Luckily, my hind legs were strong enough to boost my fore paws up on the counter so that I may take a closer whiff. Once my nose made contact with those loaves, it was game over. I recall inhaling all 3 loaves, plastic packaging included, in a matter of minutes. So satisfying….that was until the plastic came right back up, and with it, at least one of the semi-digested loaves of delicious bread. After this episode of gluttony, I decided to take an afternoon siesta on my corduroy pillow in the mud room.

I wasn’t asleep for long when I was awakened by a a shriek of “Oh My God…What a Mess!”. It seemed my owner and his guests, were unimpressed with my consumption and especially the aftermath of puke that I left simmering on the floor. What was a dog to do? The temptation in the moment was simply too tough to resist. My owner felt the need to make some changes though. “We’re going to obedience school!”, he proclaimed. So on we went, to a twice weekly doggy training camp. There was no way I could promise never to steal bread again but I was open to trying and learning some new tricks.

My owner and I were committed to making our relationship work, so this early intervention, aimed at strengthening our understanding of one another, was something that seemed worthwhile. There were some beautiful dogs there. I enjoyed watching them go about their business and respond perfectly to “stop”, “hop”, “roll”, etc. When it became my turn however, I would sometimes forget the instructions or commands. My owner would often laugh during these moments and I would snuzzle up to him, I love him. In fact I love everything! Where were we?….

Oh yeah obedience school. Well, I passed with a “C” grade. I suppose I just lost my focus whenever the milk bones came out. I love those things and would just forget what it was, that I was supposed to be doing, I just went straight for the goods. It seemed that all of the other dogs in the class were perfectly coiffed and maybe even being groomed for a show of some sort. I couldn’t help but sit and stare in admiration during the class. I had made semi- regular trips to the groomers myself, for a haircut and brush, but I still enjoyed a good roll in the mud now and again. Nothing could top chasing a tennis ball into the lake and then returning to a sandy patch to roll around in. Something suggested though, that my friends in the class weren’t as interested in mud-rolling, as I was. At any rate, my ability to sit on command definitely improved through my schooling. As for the rest of the curriculum? Not so much but that was ok, I made a couple of new friends whom I later connected with at the dog park and that was good enough for us.

At the time of my adoption, my owner was in his mid-twenties and just beginning his career. He was also a bit Nomadic. We moved 3 times in 5 years, each time to a seemingly smaller space. That was ok though, as long as we went for a solid run every day and I had a warm place to snuzzle at night. Again, we loved each other and had one another’s back.

My life changed forever though, in early 2008, when a beautiful woman came into our lives and would eventually become my owner’s wife. We were a family! Before too long, we bought a house with a backyard for me to roam around freely. The best part of this new arrangement? The endless supply of treats. From rawhide bones to kibbles and bits, those 2 took care of my voracious appetite. Sometimes though, they would be a bit less mindful in guarding their own treats. Our very first Christmas together proved this point to be true.

Among their favourite guilty snacks were beer nuts and wine gums. Man oh man did they ever hook each other up with a big bag supply over that Christmas. Under the tree in the living room, sat the bags, ready for the taking. I waited until my favourite couple had gone out for an evening walk, and then dove right into temptation. Devouring the wine gums first and not leaving a shred of carnage to remain, I hit the beer nuts next and crushed them in a few giant, satisfying chews. I left no trace of evidence for the unsuspecting couple, upon their return. Everything seemed ok until that plastic packaging came back up to haunt the 3 of us later that evening. With it, came most of the beer nuts and wine gums, in colourful combination. It turned into a long night of scrubbing and cleaning to get the living room back to normal. I observed in a nice, cuddled position on my pillow while my owners took to it. From that day onwards, I never saw any more hulk-sized bags of candy on the floor, it was back to the routine of twice/daily kibble with the occasional can of meaty- wet food mixed in (those days were the best!)

Things seemed fairly normal for the next year and change, of living in that comfy house. I was walked on the leash every morning, to the coffee shop, where the Barista often had a treat for me. I also went for a run at dusk, in the dog park where I would sprint hard after any thrown ball but was often too distracted by my surroundings to bring it back with any consistency. At any rate, between good feeds and good runs, I was a pretty happy dog. The only naughty snacking blunder that occurred over the following couple of years was my curiously consuming an ant trap. I kinda knew at first bite, that I was in trouble…but I swear I smelled peanut butter in that thing and I couldn’t resist diving in to try to scoop it up. That episode bought me an immediate ticket to the animal hospital where the vet gave me the charcoal treatment. Up came the ant trap along with anything else that I might have consumed that day. This one was a learning experience for everyone. I never went near an ant trap again.

It wasn’t long after I recovered from the ant trap incident, that we welcomed a new addition to our family. A beautiful baby boy was born and we became best buds almost immediately. Every day was action-packed as Mommy stayed home to care for the newborn. The food scraps were plentiful! from cereal, to animal crackers and fresh fruit. It became custom for me to clear the food carnage left by our awesome little guy. I felt that I was performing an honourable service for Mommy in helping to keep the house clean. I believe that she felt the same way too. It was a wonderful time to be alive! 2 years later, the family welcomed a new baby girl and I, of course offered and performed the same high-chair clearing duties. We were a very happy family unit with food in abundance. Magically, it seems that food and all of the potential mischief that has accompanied it over the years, has been the bond that has helped to build our love for one another. Golden retrievers love their treats and I found the perfect family to celebrate a lifetime full of them.