Angus was the best dog ever. That’s hard to say, because I’ve loved every dog in my family since I was a young child, through married life and kids. But Angus was special.
A post from Writing from the Heart with Brian about his loving dog of 15 years got me remembering Angus.
We got Angus from Guide Dogs of the Desert after being on a waiting list for several years for one of their “rejects.” I’ll never forget driving to pick him up with my husband, first-grade son and toddler daughter.
Angus appeared, wagging his tail with a stuffed sheep in his mouth.
My husband immediately fell in love. After Angus was in the car with the family, I ran back into Guide Dogs’ office.
“If he doesn’t work out after a few days, can we bring him back?” I asked.
The woman at the counter looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. She said, “Here’s his shot and birth records.”
“Oh!” I said stunned. Angus shared my son’s birthday.
When we brought Angus home, he was seven-months old, had some guide dog training, but failed because he was pretty wild. He did make it on the cover of Guide Dog’s brochure, though, because he was so handsome.
Our daughter spent the next few months living on countertops, the coffee table and sofa so she didn’t get tumbled by the wagging tail.
We soon learned that Angus was trained to open the fridge to help a blind person find their OJ or other items.
Angus thought our fridge was a self-service appliance for butter. Counter shopping got him treats like a loaf of bread and once while cooking dinner, I turned around to find a steak missing.
I’d walk by the kitchen to see Angus on his hind legs counter shopping and he’d quickly drop to the floor. “Who me?!”
One day, I couldn’t find the large kitchen trash can. I eventually found it behind a tree in the backyard.
Often, I came home to find the bathroom trash which was wicker with a wrought iron leaf pattern around the top — connected to Angus’s collar. Again, the look of “Who me?”
Angus on the wide chaise lounge. We spent many nights sitting together watching stars.
Angus was a working dog. It was his joy to pick up our newspapers in the morning. He’d go out the kitchen door, through the garage, to the street to pick up our two papers. Sometimes, when he was feeling extra, we’d get the neighbors’ papers, too. The newspaper job evolved to Angus leaving payment for papers.
Driving the kids to school, I’d see my husband’s tighty whities out on the street — in exchange for the newspapers.
We lived one block from downtown Palm Springs. Across the street was a hotel. I can’t tell you how many times we’d get a call from a hotel employee telling us Angus was working the pool guests for snacks.
You have to understand that Angus wasn’t allowed to roam wild. We had a walled-in yard with a gate. But Angus knew how to get out.
Once we were downtown walking with friends from Seattle. We returned after dark to see cops and strangers outside our house. The strangers said Angus was downtown barking like Lassie, trying to get someone to follow him. They did and ended up at our house, afraid because the lights were all on, with the gate and French doors open wide.
They called the police, because they were afraid maybe something deadly had happened. Everyone including the cops were relieved we were okay. An officer threatened to write up Angus for a ticket, but that didn’t happen.
For my son’s second grade birthday party, we held it at the city pool and he asked for donations for Guide Dogs of the Desert. He raised more than $1,000. I wrote a story about it that was published in the Los Angeles Times. You can read my story HERE.
Angus was with us until after he was 15 years old. We knew it was time when he’d get lost in the garage trying to pick up newspapers. He also fell into the pool several times. He had trouble standing up.
Why were we keeping Angus alive? It wasn’t for him, that’s for sure.
My husband said he’d take Angus to the vet. Then my daughter, who was a senior in high school, said she’d go. That left me feeling like a coward. I had to go, too.
Once in the examining room, we all petted and loved on Angus. The vet took a needle and injected it into his front leg. The syringe broke in half and the medicine sprayed all over the room.
We finally said good-bye to Angus. A nurse came in with a baggie of his hair and asked if we wanted it.
“No, we have plenty,” I sobbed.
