Ghost: A Tribute to His Exceptional Life

Ghost: A Tribute to His Exceptional Life

When I first saw Ghost 17 years ago, he was a pale, barely discernible figure roaming my pastures. It took my girlfriend days to convince me he was there at all. At last, I could barely make him out as he rose on his hind legs to reach into one of my horse's feed buckets.

It was weeks later when I spotted him sleeping on my porch one morning. He was so exhausted from surviving alone, that I managed to go out the door and sit in my chair on the porch with him without him ever knowing. But his senses didn't let him rest easy, and he soon started, saw me there, and ran off.

But he was back the next day. Ghost had watched us long enough to know my 2 dogs were happy and healthy, and I could tell he wished with all his heart he could join us. He wanted security and a good family so badly he risked sleeping on my porch despite his great fear. I took a bowl of food out with me this time and set it by my chair. It took him longer to wake, but he ran off again. I left the food out and came inside. It wasn't long before he returned and ate it.

We performed that dance for several days before he trusted me enough to eat the food while I sat next to it. I let him smell my hand, then I petted his head, and I brought him inside to meet my dogs. Only a year or so old, abused and abandoned, then overwhelmed by Khaman, my alpha-doberman and Taska, my border collie, Ghost was submissive from the start. He made it his goal to find the proper role for himself in our family and be unintrusive – he tried to be as invisible inside as he had been outside – that's how he got his name.

That's how Ghost adopted me.

I took him to the vet a day or two later, and he threw up in the car – his first ride with me. He was a fear biter, and I'd already learned I had to be careful when disciplining him. He bit hard. I think the vet appreciated I was rescuing Ghost. I wanted to hold him so he wouldn't bite the vet, but the vet suggested otherwise. Ghost was all fear and teeth, and he and his assistant had their hands full. But when it was over, Ghost was happy to be back with me, did not resent me, and had learned a lesson in trust. It was the last time he tried to bite a vet.

Young and insecure, Ghost over-zealously took the role of interceptor, a role he perfected over 17 years with me. The first time he ever went for a run with us, he charged a horse in a fenced pasture 20 feet back from the street. He intercepted the feral neighborhood dogs that used to shadow us when we ran. I called him my guided missile dog for years. After years in that role, he developed the judgment that enabled to him to intercept threatening dogs and warn threatening people without me ever asking while being polite to everybody else.

The first time I gave the dogs treats after Ghost joined us, he was reluctant. It was like he was afraid I was enticing him into a trap to hurt him. I remember the first time he carefully followed the other dogs to me to get his treat, his eyes hopeful, and he was rewarded. He was developing more trust.

Through his own efforts, he quickly fit in with the family. It wasn't long before we took him to the river with us to go tubing. He took most of his cues from Khaman then. Khaman was reluctant to get on a tube and float down the river. I had to keep a hold on him and his tube. Taska would jump off her tube and swim. Following Khaman's lead, Ghost was reluctant at first. But we didn't have to hold on to him or his tube or worry about him jumping off. He stuck to us like glue, and quickly learned to enjoy tubing and hiking along the river.

When the moving van pulled into that house a couple years later, Ghost had a nervous breakdown. He yelped and rolled around like he had been shot. He climbed onto the back bumper of the moving van and tried to stay there. He was inconsolable. He was afraid we were going to abandon him too. The first time he ever excitedly joined the other dogs when I offered them a treat was after we had moved everything into the blue house. I think that was when he finally felt secure that he was part of my family for life.

Ghost was a fixture on the front porch of that house. He often chose to sleep outside on the porch to keep watch. When the coyotes came up the creek, he and Khaman headed out to the creek to establish territory. I know Ghost led Khaman to deal with the coyotes. Ghost was the interceptor, my smarter guided missile dog, and he never let anything get in the way of his duty as family protector.

Ghost never had time for typical dog games. Taska would play Frisbee all day long. Ghost never understood. Beanie loves to play tug. Ghost never understood. They were wasting energy. Ghost never chased a ball. He never chased a rabbit or a squirrel. Ghost saved his energy for threats. Ghost chased coyotes, and he reveled in it. When the mountain lion was loose in the creek, threatening the neighborhood, we hunted but never found it. Ghost intercepted strangers. But when the rabid skunk stumbled up the drive, he knew to stay on the porch and call for help. His duty was always to the family, and he had developed excellent judgment to carry it out.

And he saved his energy for his kind of fun. Ghost always loved to go running with me. As Khaman and Taska got older, they would stop following after a few laps. Ghost never quit. Not to his last day. He enjoyed following me all the way to the end. He was proud of himself, and I was proud of him too. I used to take all the dogs when I played Frisbee golf. When it was just Ghost and I, he would nip at my heels as we raced from Frisbee to Frisbee. He loved tubing, hiking creeks, parks and fields, and visiting friends. In Ohio, he loved going for long walks in the woods, visiting parks, or the river. He especially loved it when it was just he and I alone, partners, either running or just exploring. We covered a lot of territory together.

Like any dog, Ghost loved having his belly rubbed. Khaman could never resist when Ghost would nudge him and roll over on his back. Ghost only did that with people when they sat on the floor because I used to get on the floor and rub the dogs' bellies. Whenever he wanted something he would look hopefully and wag his tail. He was very good at reading my thoughts, but it was tough to figure out what he wanted because he was so understated about asking. He was never pushy or demanding, and he was hesitant to even ask for anything. He patiently tolerated my goats, cockateels and iguanas.

Ghost had this funny way of lying, on his belly with his back legs stretched straight back. With the chopped off, bushy tail he had since he adopted me filling the space between his back paws, he looked like a seal. Other times he laid on his back with his legs splayed. Ghost loved to stand in front of the oven when Devin or I cooked. When he was excited, he would prance, but he never tried to jump or climb on anyone. He liked to sneak onto the couch when I wasn't home. Ghost rarely barked, but when he did, everybody paid attention, and over the years he taught Beanie not to bark so much.

Pizza was a special treat. For years, pizza bones were the only scraps I fed the dogs by hand. All other scraps went in their bowls to keep them from begging. When Ghost and I were alone, I gave up that rule because he was so polite, but he always remembered that pizza bones were special, and he loved all our pizza delivery guys. I used to tease him that whatever I was eating was his favorite. But on his last night all he would eat was a couple pieces of bacon. He even turned down steak. I guess bacon really was his favorite.

After Khaman then Taska died, it was just me and Ghost. He expanded his role into house dog and sole companion, sensing that was what I needed, without ever surrendering his protector role. He grew, and we became partners. We spent more time than ever at the Frisbee park and walking the creek. During those years, because of a well problem, then moving, I left Ghost with a friend twice. Both times he got away from her and came hunting for me. I found him both times on the route back home.

When I was down on my luck, I had to kennel him for an extended time. Beanie was with him by then. Knowing Ghost's fear of abandonment, kenneling him was heartbreaking for me. When I finally got settled in Ohio and went to get him months later, he was expecting me. He'd developed enough trust to know that I was never going to abandon him. At that point, he was finally healed from his puppyhood ordeal. He was 13.

Ghost was a country dog in Texas. He never wore a collar or leash except to go to the vet. In Ohio, he accepted both collar and leash and quickly learned to avoid city streets. I never taught him to heel. He just did it. It wasn't long before I started taking him jogging with me up and down the streets.

And while the weather never bothered him, Ghost loved the snow. The first time he saw snow he ran around sniffing the flakes, catching them on his nose. He liked to prance through the snow when I'd take him for walks in it. His coat was so thick, he would go out and lay on the snow drifts, not on the porch, as comfortable as on a pillow, when he was watching outside. I don't know if he wanted the camouflage, the coolness, or both.

A few years ago, when he was 16, Ghost developed a growing tumor on his behind. The vet warned me that at his age and with a heart murmur, surgery was a risk. I told her she didn't know Ghost. He was in and out of surgery in 24 hours, and you would never have known. His strength was tremendous. And he never lost his skills or joy in exercising them. Just a few months ago I sent him to my aunt's house to teach her Vizslas how to chase off her coyotes.

But Ghost had a rough winter. Right around his 18^th birthday (we always celebrated his birthday on New Years Day since I don't know when he was born) was the first time he looked weak in his life. He had good weeks and bad weeks, but after I discovered a new food mix, he seemingly returned to excellent health. I was looking forward to having a beer with him when he turned 21. Just last Saturday he walked with me to the store after the blizzard. Just me and him. He jumped and pranced through 14 inches of snow, there and back. At times he would get in it up to his shoulders. He had spoiled me with his vigor and strength. I thought he would be my companion forever.

But after a couple of very bad days, I took him to the vet last Thursday. He threw up in the car, completing the circle, and I feared Ghost really had to leave me. I was right. Turns out he had a huge tumor on his spleen. After 18 years, Ghost had finally run into a challenge he couldn't overcome, and he had to leave me. I brought him home, and we spoiled him while we celebrated his life that night. I was hoping for another day at least.

In the morning we walked to our park. As he always did, he followed me every step. I knew he would follow me to hell if I went there, without ever having to ask him, but I knew I had to let him go. He walked up all 4 flights of stairs when we came back in. His strength was still inspiring.

But he was worn out. Later in the morning I had to carry him to the car for his final trip to the vet. Ghost realized that since he couldn't fulfill his duty anymore, it was time for him to go. But after I lifted him out of the car, he wanted to go on his own terms. I set him down, and as he walked toward the door, he paused to drink in life one final time. He sniffed the concrete, then stepped over and sniffed the grass. He raised his nose in the air and sniffed the air, then looked around at the panorama while Devin and I waited. She told him he could take as long as he wanted. He looked at her, then led us to the vet's door. It was the first time in his life he wasn't nervous to go to the vet.

It was nothing less than heroic. Devin says it was the most beautiful thing she ever saw in her life.

When Ghost left us, he gently fell asleep in my arms.

I always wanted to get Ghost back to Texas. I thought it was my duty to him. I felt like I was cheating him from his ranch life, plus I wanted him to train a young dog for me. But now I realize I wasn't cheating Ghost at all. I was projecting how I felt cheated into feeling like I was cheating him. He took this opportunity in Ohio to learn more about me and my family, and to make himself into an even better dog. I was stuck looking backward while he continued moving forward and growing. I wish I had learned that lesson from him sooner. I doubt it will be his final gift to me.

At his wake, my mom got it right when she said Ghost was the perfect gentleman. He was flawlessly polite. A tough, ever-present protector. A gentle friend and fun partner with an infectious smile. He's the only dog I ever had who you could literally see the smile on his face. His lips would just curl up into an unabashed smile, his teeth showing. Nobody could resist his beautiful, expressive face and liquid brown eyes. As I contemplated our lives together, I realized that even more than finally healing himself, an outstanding accomplishment in itself, Ghost had grown into the dog he wanted to be for me and for our family. For himself as well as me, he had transformed himself into my perfect companion.

I couldn't be happier for his life and his growth, nor sadder for my loss.

R.I.P. Ghost. Your spirit will be with me always.

1/1/1990 to 3/14/2008