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Published: April 12th 2014
Five years ago, a lonely dog with no place to call home appeared in the front courtyard of my parents' new house in Phoenix, Arizona. They had just moved in a couple of months prior and everything in the house still carried that new home smell. The counters gleamed. The tile sparkled. The carpet was without blemish. And, suddenly, here was a homeless creature with perky ears and earnest eyes who was asking for a chance. They didn't know his background, where he had come from, what circumstances may have led to his current state of affairs. They quibbled over what to do, especially in light of his likely breed: a
pit bull. Stray dogs were an epidemic in Phoenix, which was the likely reason for why the animal control officer never arrived. The dog was allowed to spend the first night in the garage (replete with Dad's concerns over what they may find the next morning). After the first night of good behavior, he graduated to the laundry room, where he was corralled in by recently vacated moving boxes. Exhausted after his likely journey of miles and miles, the dog slept on for hours and hours, making nary a peep.
After three days, he had a collar. After a week, he had a name and a home.
This is the story of Nick.
I met Nick about 10 days after he adopted my parents. My brother, Reid, and I traveled to Phoenix to celebrate Christmas together and we were met at the airport with a wet nose and a big surprise. I admit that I was unsure of this new family member at first, as we had lost our much-loved standard poodle, McKinley, the year previous and I didn't feel ready to let another canine soul into my heart. However, as the car drove through the desert and Nick laid his head down on my lap, closed his eyes, and let out a contented sigh, I was won over. He seemed gentle, loving, and incredibly grateful to be given a second chance, all of which he proved to be true over the ensuing years.
At first, Nick was a bit unsure of us as well. He hesitated to allow anyone to rub his belly, as going belly-up is a sign of subservience in doggie world. If anyone tried to pet him while he was lying down, he
would gently mouth the offending hand as if to say
hold on, guys! I'm not quite ready yet. In many ways, Nick exhibited qualities of such depth and intuition that he seemed almost human. His intelligence showed through his expressive eyes, and he didn't look away as quickly as other dogs; he seemed to enjoy connecting with his people through prolonged eye contact. Unlike other pit bulls, neither his ears nor his tail were docked, which proved to be a happy hazard over the years. His exuberant, perpetually wagging tail was a powerful force that knocked over tabletop knickknacks, whapped into legs, and delighted passersby on his daily walk. His unbridled joy was a quality that never diminished, even after he had settled into life with my parents in Phoenix and was an official and irreplaceable member of the family. On some occasions, it seemed his joy was so great that it simply couldn't be contained within his docile frame and he would race all over the house, digging his claws into the carpet to make hairpin turns, just so incredibly happy to be alive.
Bully breeds are known to have some innate desires to give chase, and it
was this innate disposition that led to the most dramatic occurrence in Nick's life. Mom and Nick enjoyed adventuring together in the desert and around the community. One day, as the two of them were enjoying another stroll through the desert, Nick spotted something in the distance and took off like a shot, wrenching the leash right out of Mom's hand. Her pleas for him to stop running fell on deaf ears; the little guy was focused on whatever he saw and couldn't be persuaded to give up the chase. Soon he was a mere speck in the distance. Mom returned home to retrieve her bike and rode for hours in the desert, calling his name, as Dad drove through the neighborhood doing the same. Finally, as darkness fell, they had to return home. Mom was despondent. Nick had been missing for over eight hours, in contrast to a similar occurrence in which he had returned home after about an hour. Mom and Dad sat together at the kitchen table, pushing food around their plates, not eating. It seemed that all hope was lost. And then, suddenly, they heard a shout. Nick was in the front courtyard, pressing his nose
against the glass of the guest room, and Grandma, who was visiting, had seen him. He was limping and exhausted, but he had found his way home.
Nick loved everyone with whom he came into contact, but there was a special place in his heart for Mom. It was if he knew that she was the one who had lobbied so hard for him to stay, that she was the one who had really saved his life. Wherever she was, he had to be. If she got up and left the room to retrieve something, he would jolt awake and follow her on her brief errand until she returned to her original location to resume her task. It was Mom who taught him how to walk nicely on a leash instead of twirling in frantic circles like a whirling dervish; it was Mom who attended canine citizenship classes with him; it was Mom who tried her very best to help him become a canine companion for children learning to read. Through all of these unfamiliar experiences, he had unwavering trust that nothing could hurt him as long as he was with his mom.
Nick also loved his dad
unreservedly. He was there to help Dad strengthen his back by helpfully lying on Dad's yoga mat as he tried to do his morning stretches. He always wanted whatever his Dad was snacking on, and would patiently sit next to him with wide, earnest eyes until he was given a little tasty morsel. He always had to be near Dad when he was lying on the floor--sometimes, he would play wrestle as if Dad were a littermate, nosing his head and tussling his hair until Dad gave him some attention. At other times, he was simply content to lie nestled in the crook of Dad's arm as they watched TV. Dad would remark that he never imagined he would allow himself to be kissed by a
pit bull!
Nick was a wonderful ambassador for the breed, and taught all of us the importance of not judging someone or something merely by its appearance. Many people are frightened by the mere mention of a pit bull, often without ever coming into contact with one. There are a smattering of U.S. cities and even some countries around the world that ban the breed altogether. However, they don't know what we know.
They don't know that pit bulls are some of the most loyal, gentle, intelligent dogs out there. They have not seen Nick carefully pick up a toy bear and gently carry it around the house with him, taking great care not to mouth it hard enough to make it squeak, and they have not seen his great distress and heard his mournful whining if he accidentally did make it squeak. It was amazing to see the reactions of people on the street who, upon asking what type of dog Nick is, physically recoil when the words 'pit bull' are voiced. However, it only took an additional minute or two for them to enthusiastically kneel down to be eye level with Nick and accept some pit bull kisses. I am positive that Nick changed the perspectives of many people with whom he came into contact--and for good reason.
On Monday, we had to say goodbye to our faithful companion. Nick, our little boy, beloved member of our family, holder of our hearts, is gone. We will never again stroke his soft ears, be whapped by his lively tail, receive his happy greeting. It is one of the most difficult things
we experience in this life, saying goodbye to a dog that has never judged, never angered, never been anything less than a perfect companion. It is gut-wrenching. But what is important for us to remember now is that we have not lost who Nick really was. We have not lost the unconditional love he showed to us every single day. We have not lost the lessons he taught us about not judging others by their appearances. We have not lost the joy we held in our hearts every minute of knowing him. Those things will remain with us forever, regardless of whether or not Nick appears before us in a way that we understand. So, now is the time for us to reflect on all of the wonderful qualities Nick exhibited and continues to exhibit in our memories of our time together. That is what a dog does. That is his purpose. And we will honor Nick by taking that to heart.
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Carol O'Leary
non-member comment
The magic of Christmas gave Nick a name and a home
Merritt, this is a wonderful tribute to a wonderful dog who gave so much love to his special family . I hope that this tribute will help heal the broken hearts of all who knew Nick. Saving an abandoned dog shows how special your parents are. This is said because it is true - not because they are my brother and sister-in-law.