Bob Grylls
Editor’s Note: The following column contains a recounting of an animal’s death. Reader discretion is advised.
I was flat on my back without the strength or ability to move, let alone crawl to my knees. I was fairly certain I was on concrete. Overhead, the sky began to slowly come into focus. Grasping for wind, I thought I heard a voice.
I did. It was a girl’s voice, “Are you okay sir?” “I think so but has anyone seen my dog?” I had let go of the lease when I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. There were two girls about eleven or twelve staring down at me. “Can we help you sir?” I thought why not. By the time I was on my feet, one of the girls then retrieved my dog.
I couldn’t thank them enough for their help and respectfulness. My dog Rags and I continued the last half of our regular route home. It would be only a few weeks before Rags would meet her demise in my driveway, crushed by wheels on a van driven by my brother-in-law. He was unaware of what happened. I never brought it up as his two children were with him, both admirers of Rags. They may not have been forgiving if they knew.
I don’t know who had trained who but one of us would wake up in the middle night for a pee and we would go at the same time. She went outside to the back yard and if the weather being favourable, I would join in.
Rags was a Pomeranian with a little Terrier mixed in, its colour principally black. Her big obsession was riding in the car whether it was to MacDonald’s or a 5-hour trip. Rags was friendly, brave and smart just like her owner. Sir Isaac Newton had owned one of these dogs, but I wasn’t as smart as him.
Rags was fond of me and it was confirmed when Dr Paul Zak conducted his study. “We have pretty good evidence that dogs actually love their humans,” according to Dr Zak.” The neuroscientist had checked the oxytocin levels in dogs after playing with their owners. He took saliva samples from dogs on two occasions – 10 minutes before a playtime session with their owners and immediately after. The results show the hormone level increased by an average of 57%.
I read that Gwyneth Paltrow owns a labrador retriever and Jennifer Aniston a golden retriever. The labs have more kennel club registrations than any other breed and the golden retriever right behind in third place. I know many people who love these animals, including my niece with brown labs while friends on Rapid Road prefer the golden.
I understand that men who are insecure need a bigger dog for their pet – I rub it in sometimes. I guess I’m more comfortable in my skin than them as I prefer lapdogs. One bonus is when walking in the park, women always want to pet him. Fine by me.
I can never forget the guy across the road when I was a kid who had this terrifying shaggy mid-size dog. Whenever I went to go by, Rodney would send his dog Skip after me. I would always be forced to take the long way around. I can’t remember which one of them I detested the most.
Toto, the Cairn Terrier: Many remember the line from The Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy laments to her canine friend, “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” But what may not be known is the story behind this famous doggie actress. Toto was abandoned as a puppy. Luckily, he was adopted by a German immigrant, Carl Spitz, who was the unofficial dog-trainer of Hollywood movie sets. She was trained to become one of the most coveted canine actresses of her generation, starring alongside some of the day’s biggest stars. By the end of her career, she had been cast in 17 films, living to be 11-years old.
Rin Tin Tin, a German Shepherd and Lassie, the long-coated dog, were a couple of the most popular canine movie stars of the ‘40’s and ‘50’s.
I know that Rags has never been in the movies or saved anyone’s life or fought in a war, but I loved her just the same and I miss our too few years of camaraderie.
