Lucky

Jen decided we needed a dog before Ari was born and who was I to argue with a pregnant woman? So we made way to the Michigan Humane Society, located on the I-75 service drive in Detroit. We interviewed the puppies, of course, and then as is their wont, the staff directed us to the older dogs. We perused mini to massive then came to Lucky (then named “Bucky!” Shudder.) Attentive from the go, he watched us approach and jumped up on the door, licking our hands as we pet him – a trait he never lost, leading to his nickname, “Licky.” We were told that he was fully trained and his owner had just given him up because he was too active.

Of course that wasn’t true.

We got Lucky home and quickly ascertained that he had never been housebroken. Or trained in any manner. In fact, Lucky drove us a bit crazy! He developed the habit of jumping over our backyard fence, racing across the street, and running top speed back and forth along the neighbor’s fence, barking madly at his dog: A Detroit Police Officer’s dog. He wasn’t amused.

I attempted to catch him, calling him back, only to have him race by me in the opposite direction down the street. Then he would stop as if daring me to give chase. If I did, he raced on. If not, he would turn back and race past me in the opposite direction. The neighbors must have enjoyed the spectacle, especially when I attempted to tackle him as he raced by…

We had a utility room in the house and decided to keep Lucky there during the day. We soon regretted the decision as Lucky ate or at least chewed through several strings of Christmas lights, boxes of nails, a box of razor blades, the workbench... 2x4’s... The hardibacker board from the adjoining bathroom… And finally, the door.

We moved him into the large basement bathroom and consulted our veterinarian. He recommended cage training the dog and if not that, using a cayenne based spray on the objects he was prone to chew. Believing caging all day was cruel, we amply sprayed the door, jamb and everything else we thought he might chew through. Lucky developed a fine liking for cayenne.

We bought the cage. Also, around that time, Mom bought us a book titled “How to Raise a Puppy You Can Live With” and we began training in earnest. While Lucky carried a very strong independent streak to the end we began to develop a relationship that was agreeable to us both. He still ran off on occasion, usually across the street, but he started coming back when I called him. He began obeying the “Sit!” command, though in a lifelong, stubborn act of defiance refused to actually put his behind completely down, instead hovering about an inch above the surface. Good enough. “Stay!” never became a workable command; we settled for remaining in the vicinity of his people and not running after dogs, squirrels or strangers. Mostly.

Lucky was a mixed breed, a combination of Spaniel and Black Labrador Retriever. What this translated to, personality wise, was a very loyal, protective dog with the behavior set of a lab plus a bit of nervousness and herding instincts. He loved fetching sticks or tennis balls and I trained him to catch a Frisbee. He never much cared for it but generally entertained my efforts for at least a bit. As part of the training -- the jumping to catch the disc -- I taught him to jump up when I held my hand out, palm down. Lucky loved to jump and this meant treat, so the behavior was reinforced very easily. Subsequently, I had to train every human that interacted with him not to engage in the most natural, instinctual motion when approaching someone’s dog, you know, as if to pet him. (And then he’d jump up on you, remember? And I had to explain that was his command for “Up!” I didn’t think that through very well. Sorry.) Lucky trained us well.

Lucky liked to keep an eye on his humans. He liked to know where we were and where we were going. If I walked across the kitchen, his eyes would follow. If I went downstairs he would follow – not necessarily stay, just long enough to establish where I was: he had other humans to mind, after all. Outside, he stopped leaving the property (other than one funny incident.). He would generally sit on the porch and watch as his humans toiled and if strangers approached he would leap to alert, barking but never leaving the property to chase. Once, when someone came to drop off a circular on our porch, Lucky bolted to the window, knocked out the screen and furiously barked them away. Our next door neighbor witnessed the event and she (also a police officer) attempted to pop the screen back in to place. Lucky would not let her, standing on the sill, head sticking out the window, angrily warning everyone away from the place where he kept his humans. Fortunately we curbed the aggression a bit as the years wore on and better still recognized the raised hair on his back as forewarning of imminent attack.

In light of his rather aggressive personality, we were somewhat concerned with how he would react when we brought Ari home from the hospital. We decided we would let him briefly give her a sniff and rush her to safety in her crib. As soon as we had, Lucky crawled under her crib and stayed there for hours. He was extremely protective of the children and disliked strangers coming anywhere near them. Once, taking him on a walk, we approached some guy. I greeted him; he greeted me, and then tried to give Ari a friendly pat on the head (she was about three at the time). Lucky saw that as an assault upon the child and leapt snarling, teeth gnashing just missing his arm! After that we walked him with a leader so we could decide when he should bite someone. Another time he was in the truck with the kids. The neighbor kids were playing catch and the ball was overthrown, coming to a rest just by the front wheel. One of the children began running towards the truck when suddenly, out of the window shot Lucky! He didn’t chase the kid as he ran off but stood on the edge of our property barking him away.

He loved the cars, both taking rides and just hanging around. If Lucky was out and you opened the door, he was in. He had to have a few minutes of car time before he would agree to exit and if we tried to get him out immediately, he would jump between the front and back seats. Initially annoying it became an amusing game we’d occasionally play.

He most looked forward to the rides, though, and we took him along as often as possible – the frequency limited as he did not like to be left alone in the car unless it was parked in our driveway. If we did leave him, he would start barking immediately on our exit, slobbering up the windows. So we took him when we had just brief errands and, of course, when camping.

When we hitched up the trailer he would stand at the door watching, tail wagging. And when we opened the door and called “Truck!” He would briskly canter over then effortlessly glide up on to the front seat. When Jen and I joined him he would wedge himself into the most uncomfortable looking positions on the floor, despite having a reserved seat between us. On arrival at the camp site he always wanted entrance to the trailer right away. He loved to jump up on the couch (admittedly the most comfortable seat), our bed or occasionally the lower bunk. He was the consummate camper, loving the accompanying riotous activity and also stretching out in the dirt by the fire in the evenings with his pal Riley.

Riley wasn’t the first dog we brought into the home. Spazzy – initially named because he was so passive – entered our lives many years prior. Lucky loved being with other dogs and Spazzy was no exception. Unfortunately Spazzy came from a horribly abusive home and we were unable to overcome his many behavioral problems, specifically, random unprovoked attacks -- an insurmountable problem with kids in the home.

Arianna, when she was young, always wanted a Golden Retriever. I put her off for years, saying Jared was too young to handle a puppy. Then one day as we walked through the mall the kids were sidetracked by the puppies in the window of a pet store. Somehow, we decided at that moment it would be a good idea to go look for Golden Retriever puppies. Consequently, we had a second dog. Lucky took to Riley right away and Riley emulated Lucky’s behavior. Lucky barked, Riley barked. Lucky charged the door, Riley charged the door. Riley always liked to challenge Lucky and Lucky played along until Riley got a bit too aggressive and confident. Then Lucky made sure Riley knew who was top dog.

As Lucky grew older he became cagier. Riley still came at him and Lucky let him take his punches. But while Riley would run around like a kook and make wild lunges, Lucky waited for Riley to come to him and every so often, attacked and forced Riley into submission. Then, herding mode clicked in and Lucky would chase Riley around the yard trying to force him, generally, to the back patio until either he acquiesced or they were both exhausted and collapsed. Lucky was always the pack leader and I believe Riley liked it that way. He certainly hasn’t been the same since Lucky died.

I always said Lucky was my dog. I trained him. I took care of him. He followed me everywhere. He listened to my command better than anyone else…

But really he was loyal to us all. He was all of ours. He was ferociously protective of the children. Not Jen and I, just the kids. And he was Jen’s as well. Lucky would never go to sleep until Jen went to bed. Lucky always followed her to the bedroom and usually jumped onto the bed, lying next to her feet. If she stayed up past her usual bedtime, Lucky would come up to her and nudge her as if to say, “Uh, hey lady. It’s a bit late, eh?”

He loved to have his neck aggressively scratched where the hair rose to form a ridge and loved a good belly rub. These sessions always ended with Lucky reaching over and licking our hands. Always licking. Us, the floor, couches, his feet, Riley’s ear…

And he barked at every minute sound, real or imagined.

On July 31^st, Lucky had been in herding mode and chased Riley until he collapsed, exhausted next to the patio. Lucky stood next to him, drool rolling off his tongue. He was in fantastic health and magnificent shape physically.

It was not unusual for him to make odd sounds when he slept. His legs twitched and his body contorted, yips and snarls emanating as he hunted through the dog equivalent of REM.

So his first yelp was largely ignored. When he yowled again, I got up to investigate. He was lying on the basement couch and raised his head to eye me as he would do. I asked if he needed to go out and he climbed off the couch and stretched. I headed upstairs and Lucky bolted up behind me. I let him out, had a drink of water and sat down on the couch waiting for him to bark to come in.

A few minutes later, Riley bolted up the stairs and started barking and scratching at the back door. I opened the door and Lucky was lying on the ground – breathing perhaps a bit slower than usual, maybe more shallow breaths and he was unresponsive. I pet him on the head and told him he was a good boy. I told Jen something was wrong. Feeling completely helpless we went online and also grabbed the vet’s number. I went to check him again – just a couple of minutes later – and he was dead.

We treasure the experiences we shared and miss Lucky terribly.