Marley and Me
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
A Dog named Dink, Chaser of Whales (and Coeds)
I've received hundreds and hundreds of dog stories these past few months, and each of them is special, just as each dog is special. But a few stand out. This story of a Labrador retriever named Dink was among them. Once in a lifetime, if we're lucky, we will be touched by a bigger-than-life, utterly memorable dog, a dog like no other. For me, it was Marley. For Al Eggers, a college professor in Washington state, it was Dink. Here's the story he shared with me by email, including a grainy but priceless photo of Dink at play with his large mammal friend:
"Marley & Me" brought tears to my eyes, and many memories of good dogs, but
most of all of a crazy yellow Lab who fixed all of his genetic programming
for birds & game on marine mammals, whales and seals. I live over saltwater, in a house on pilings, along Puget Sound. This dog, Dink, somehow transferred his retieverness from birds to larger things -- harbor seals, sea lions, & grey whales. Dink had harbor seal friends with whom he would play -- after being called by a barking seal at the front deck. The dog loved to harrass mating sea lions, and he bore the scars to prove their displeasure. But above all things Dink had a most unsual and special relationship with grey whales. Although you may find this not beievable, he loved them and they love him. (picture attached, poor but the best available). Many witnesses can testify to this exotic cetaceal-canine relationship. One bright sunny morning my neighbor and I watched Dink and a grey whale play
tag for almost an hour.
Dink loved crotches, paticularly those attached to young women. I'm a college professor, and my dogs go to my office with me daily. Students like dogs; I think most of the time my dogs help to sooth anxieties. At 14 years of age, Dink for several days disappeared. It had never happened before. I found him, living with four young women, under the psuedonym "Fred" in a place he could reach only afer a four-mile swim.
Eggers goes on to describe other dogs he has loved, including the late B.C. and Rosie, now nearing the end of her life. He concludes:
There comes a time when dogs tell you, "I'm ready." You just know. When that time comes in my case I carry, with the help of friends, my dogs Dink, B.C. and in too short a time, Rosie, down the trail and up 220 steps to my car. We go to our vet, Dr. Hoff, who does know our dogs. In a little room Dr. Hoff puts a needle in their legs, and soon one can no longer feel a heart beat. And I cry, as I am now.
Here's to Dink, a great dog who lived every day to the fullest. Marley would have loved to have joined him playing tag with the whales. Not to mention lounging with coeds.
posted by John Grogan at 11:47 AM
 
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I absolutely loved your book. I have a yellow lab named Tucker. We got him when he was a year old from a friend. He was pretty destructive when we got him, but we knew that going in. He at a whole through the middle of our door, all my pillows, and a few remote controls.
I wouldn't trade him for the world. He's the world's greatest dog. Beautiful, full of life, and always curious about everything around him. The best thing that I love about him is his "psycho dog" moods. He gets a crazed look in his eyes and just explodes around the house for about five minutes. It's the most hilarious thing I've ever seen.
Thank you so much for your book.
Having had a dog in my life since before I can remember, I now share my life with Scout, a rescue from the San Diego Humane Society. Part lab, part who knows what: sweet, wise, funny,loving and smart, he lets me live in my house with him, and follows me everywhere.
I was at Costco when I saw the book cover, stopped, and started reading near the back. I read it thru to the end, sobbing like a child in the aisle at Costco.
But, one story. Spike was my Dad's big, sweet black lab, a feerless pheasant hunter and house dog, living in South Dakota. He had been diagnosed with cancer, a mass so big it was moving his heart out of position. In July 1998 he was given about 4 more months. I returned, with my father who had been visiting San Diego, in August of that year. We arrived home and several hours later Spike started to fail. After an awful night keeping watch, we called the vet in the morning. She came with her syringe and his suffering ended. Later that day, in our mourning, we decided to visit a nearby lake, one that Spike loved. While walking by myself near the shore, consumed with thoughts of that sweet dog, I hear clearly behind me "I will be with you always". I looked and there was no one around. I am convinced that Spike did not want me to cry, but to be comforted by the thought that the memory of all the fun we had will be
forever with me.