Emergency Replacement Dog
Our first family dog, Cadence, died of pneumonia in January of 2012. Donald was used to having Cadence in his bed to help him relax and go to sleep, so it was imperative that we find a replacement for her right away. We went to the Eastside Shelter during the following week, and found an alert Cattle Dog mix that seemed suitable for a large family with children.
The people at the shelter had named him Cosby, because he was very playful. When we took him out in the play yard, he ran around and greeted everyone and then started pick up toys to play tug-of-war or chase the ball. It looked like he surely would work out, so we placed a hold on him and Adair went to the shelter the next day to complete the adoption. Since he and Donald were going to be roommates, we gave Donald naming rights. He chose Pascal, naming the dog after the famous mathematician.
Pascal settled right in, acting as a replacement for Cadence in Donald's bed. Pascal had a high metabolism and a thick coat. So even though I don't remember the early years that well, it's likely that he snuck out to the front hall once Donald was asleep.
The front hall became his spot. Whether he felt it his duty to guard the house from that vantage or he just enjoyed the cool air and scents coming in under the front door, we'll never really know. The scent theory is a good one, though, since sometimes he would make anxious noises in front of the door and then go chasing something in the shadows when I let him out.
His Own Dog
The back-story on Pascal is that he was surrendered by a rancher near Yakima, since he did not perform well as a working dog. We figured later that he just didn't like to be told what to do. Pascal was always very much his own dog.
The Humane Society encourages adopters to bring their dogs to obedience training. Pascal was already trained to some extent, so he was the star of the show. The teacher of the class would use him as an example, and he seemed to know just what was being asked. At home, it was a different story. He liked to go out and lie on the lawn. You might call him in, but if he wanted to stay outside, that's what he would do.
It was easy to see his early training as a working dog. He did not consider it a punishment to be outside in all kinds of weather: he had been used to living outside in a crate. When the neighbor's maintenance crew called to each other in Spanish, Pascal would prick up his ears. That is likely the language that was spoken on the ranch where he spent his first year.
Pascal was a very proud dog, and refused to be lifted or assisted in any way. This was fine initially, since he was also very anxious to please. He would usually do what you wanted, as long as it was his choice. It was easy to walk with him off-leash, because calling his name and beckoning was usually sufficient to bring him back.
In later years, it was a problem because his ebbing strength and sense of pride created an impasse. We adapted by providing him ramps for getting into and out of the car. We place runners strategically inside the house, so he could get around without slipping on the hardwood floors.
On his vet visit two years ago, he really disliked the smooth floors in the new Mercyvet facility. Last year, he probably recognized the location, and refused to even get out of the car. I had to leave him there while I took Zelda in for her appointment.
The Nose-Whistle
From the start, Pascal expressed emotion or need by nose-whistling. Nose-whistle at the door to be let out; nose-whistle at the door to be let back in. Nose-whistle when he wanted to play; nose-whistle when some other dog or some other person was getting more attention than he. It was a communication tool that served him well.
Heeler Behavior
After we brought him home, I would sometimes run around the yard when playing with him. He chased me, and would nip at my heels.
Another behavior that I noticed early on was his habit of lying down on the cool earth to cool down. I attributed this instinctive behavior to his blue-heeler ancestry. Pascal had a high metabolism, so he was almost always panting. The "heeler hunker" went beyond that to help him cool off. Very often on a hot day or after strenuous exercise, he would wade into the nearest puddle or stream and lie down.
Sometimes he would choose a mud puddle and coat his legs and underside with mud. Lovely. Occasionally, I would turn the hose on him before letting him back in the house, to at least knock off the larger chunks of mud. Be did not like being sprayed with the hose in the least, so it was a challenge to get off any mud at all.
When we went on hikes, Pascal would wait and make sure that we were all together before he moved on. Although he didn't try to herd us back together like Cadence, it seemed that he still had the herding instinct.
After we got Clifford, the new dog would sometimes pick on Zelda to try to get a rise out of her. Pascal would come between them an bark. Breaking up fights is a shepherd behavior that we also observed in Cadence.
Ball Fetcher Extraordinaire
Pascal already knew how to stay and come, so I played that a lot during his first weeks with us. He would also bring a ball to be tossed, and would catch the ball. But at first he would not bring the ball all the way back. He would drop the ball about 6 feet away and expect me to come get it and toss it again. I could see that this was not going to work well.
After walking the children up to school one day, I decided to train Pascal to bring the ball back to me. I just sat down at the intersection of 80th Ave and SE 70th St and used the chucker to toss the ball. Pascal would bring it back and drop it a few feet away. But if it was not within the circle I could reach with the chucker, I did nothing. After a short while, he got impatient and picked up the ball again. If he happened to drop it inside my circle, then I would toss it for him. In this way, he learned to bring the ball all the way back. He also used the behavior of picking up the ball and dropping it again to prompt strangers into tossing it for him.
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| Zelda vs. the Ball-Obsessed |
On our walks in Pioneer Park, Pascal would run through the brush parallel to the trail, sniffing for a ball until he found one. Then, he would drop the ball right in your path and position himself to catch the ball as soon as you kicked it. Without feinting or looking in a direction other than where you were aiming, it was almost impossible to get the ball past him.
Smart Dog
One could credit him with an exceptional memory rather than exceptional olfaction. But in fact it was probably the latter that was behind this feat: One summer, we all hiked a ways up Rattlesnake Ridge starting at Rattlesnake Lake. As usual, Pascal had a tennis ball and insisted on having it tossed so he could fetch it as we walked along. Almost at the point where we decided to turn around, I made a bad toss and the ball rolled down the slope to a point where he could not fetch it easily. He had to abandon the ball as we headed back downhill.
The next Spring, Brian and I hiked the length of Rattlesnake Ridge starting at its western end. We didn't have a ball along, so Pascal picked up a stick and insisted that I toss that for him instead. I did so for a while, but then it got annoying. So I wedged the stick in the crook of a tree. Pascal jumped up and retrieved the stick. So I found a taller tree and wedged it in more tightly. He stood there at the base of the tree for a bit, nose-whistling and refusing to give up. But then he finally had to break away and catch up. When we got to the point on the trail where the ball had been lost, Pascal went off the trail and rooted around a bit, returning to the path with the ball in his mouth.
Pascal really loved to go to the off-leash area in Luther Burbank Park. Whereas it had been Cadence's job to try to keep the retrievers from swimming after balls, it was Pascal's job to steal the ball and get the owner to toss it again for him. I spent long intervals watching other people toss the ball for Pascal while I just stood there. He would always bring the ball back and drop it right at the feet of his adopted ball-tosser.
One time, I took the dogs up to the Annette Lake Trailhead to go XC-skiing along the Iron Horse Trail. The snow was about a foot deep and tough going for the dogs, so they trailed along behind me in the ski tracks I had made. After I started back, it felt like my skis were sticking in the snow. I turned around and saw that Pascal was trying to climb up on the tails of my skis as the most efficient method of travel.
Athlete
Pascal was also a great swimmer. He would swim out at least 30 yards from shore to retrieve a ball. There were times when I threw the ball out a bit too far and he would abandon it. But he usually did his best to bring it back to shore. One time, I tossed out a ball that had a leak. After it hit the water it sank. Poor Pascal spent the longest time whimpering and diving down in the 2 foot deep water to try to retrieve the ball. It took me a long time to persuade him to leave it and come back to shore.
Pascal was faster in the water than the Retrievers, so one of his tricks was to go after a ball that someone else had tossed for his own dog, intercept it and bring it back to shore. The owner had to toss the ball at an angle close to shore so his own dog could get there first.
One morning he saw some ducks near the shore and started swimming out toward them. The ducks were used to just being able to paddle away from dogs, so they didn't act alarmed. Initially. Pascal was such a fast swimmer that he got closer, and closer, and closer. Finally, the ducks did get alarmed, and had to take flight to get away.
When Pascal was about 5 years old, we all took bikes out to the Cedar Falls Trailhead and rode up the Iron Horse Trail for several miles. It was late winter, and the weather was a light mist mixed with fog. After we turned around, Gwen took off downhill and disappeared ahead into the fog. I was concerned for her safety, so I pursued her with Pascal keeping pace beside me. The dog ran for a full 5 miles at 15 mph or more before we caught up with Gwen, never slackening his pace.
Hiking Companion
In 2016, the boys and I hiked along the Pacific Crest from Pete Lake to U.S. 2. We hiked 8-10 miles per day, and Pascal went the whole way carrying his own food. The first night we camped out near Pete Lake, and Pascal was very nervous. He wasn't used to camping out, and every time a deer came near to graze, he would bark and chase it away.
When we got to the Waptus river on the second day, Pascal thought that we were getting too far from home. As I waded across he picked up a round rock from the bottom of the river, playing with it with his paws to try to get me to come back and play with him rather than crossing to the opposite bank. I had to wade back and put the leash on him so he would cross to the northern shore.
After camping for a few nights, Pascal settled down and would sleep outside. There wasn't really room for him inside the tents, since the "2-man" tent was just large enough to accommodate Brian, and the "3-man" tent was just sufficient for me and Donald. Also, Pascal didn't particularly want to sleep inside. However, on our last night out we set up our camp near a small summit lake. At that time of year, it was just swarming with mosquitos. After trying to fight off the mosquitos for 5 minutes, Pascal came right to the door wanting to be let in. He was pretty clever to figure out that the tent offered protection from the bugs.
Starting down from the pass the next day, we had the option of spending another night at Surprise Lake or just hiking out. Donald opted for hiking out and his motion carried. So we hiked the 19.5 miles out to the trailhead in a single day. Pascal kept up with us, but after Adair came and picked us up, he just sacked out in the back of the van. Normally, he would be alert. But then and for the next 3 days, he was just "horizontal dog": We had found the limit of his endurance.
Later Years
When Pascal got older and less energetic, he still showed his cleverness. He would find a ball in Pioneer park and get one of us to toss it or kick it down the trail. Then, rather than admit he was tired, he would "lose" the ball and just continue walking after that. At other times, he would carry the ball along in his mouth, knowing that we could only toss it if it dropped to the ground.
A short time after we bought the Honda, Pascal was no longer able to jump from ground level up into the cargo area. On our trip to Kalaloch Lodge, I remember leaving a space on the cargo carrier so that Pascal could jump up there and then climb into the back.
I built a ramp so he could climb from the driveway up into the Honda. And Adair bought a folding ramp so he could climb down and enjoy Pioneer Park at the other end. After a while, Pascal started turning back toward the car after only two loops around the park, and this past year after only one.
The Last Days
Last summer, Pascal started losing weight. He was down to 56 lbs when I weighed him in July. He was also losing muscle in his hindquarters, making it difficult for him to get up the ramp. His walks in Pioneer Park dwindled to one loop of the Northwest quad, and these took longer and longer.
We also noticed that he was losing his sense of hearing. When he wasn't facing me, it was possible for me to come up right behind him without him noticing. Calling to him would not alert him. Getting in his line of sight and using hand signals was the only effective way to coax him along.
In late November, I noticed that there were wet spots on the rugs where Pascal had been lying. Adair bought doggie diapers for him, and he was remarkably compliant about wearing them.
Early in December, Pascal started refusing food. I knew at that point that he would not be with us much longer. We managed to keep him nourished by feeding him only wet food after that, and supplementing with raw eggs. He continued slurping up raw eggs even when wet food no longer seemed to interest him.
In the week between Christmas and New Year's, he started wandering away when I let him out at night. A few nights in a row, I had to go out with a headlamp before turning in, and coax him back from the neighbor's driveway or from up the hill.
He also declined to go on walks a few times. Thinking I was neglecting him, I took a leash out to invite him on a walk on New Year's Eve. He didn't seem to want to move, so I went inside and returned with Zelda on a leash. He got the idea, and rose to walk with us.
When we got to the end of the block, however, he just climbed down into the ditch and lay down. It was clear to me then that he just wanted to crawl away and die. With much coaxing, I got him to go as far as the Raghavan's yard, and then down the hill back to our yard, where he stayed.
I was concerned that he would be disturbed by the fireworks and wander away, so 20 minutes before midnight, I coaxed him back inside. He lay down in the living room and did not rise again. He ate one egg the next morning but refused all food after that. The next day, he also refused further offers of water.
On the morning of the 3rd, he had a few bouts of labored breathing. About 10:45, Gwen and I heard him moaning, and I went to his side to comfort him. After about 5 minutes, he settled down. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed. In ten minutes more his breathing stopped, and so he left us.
Still His Own Dog
His instinctive behavior impelled him to die somewhere away from home. I had thought for some months that he might just lie down on the lawn one day and expire. And I likely would have allowed him to do that, if I had not been concerned about the fireworks.
He spent some time last summer excavating depressions underneath the hydrangeas near the front door. He seemed to have forgotten about that in his behavior during the fall, choosing instead to just lie on the grass in the broadest part of the lawn or in front of the raised bed.
But it stuck in my mind that he had already chosen his final resting place. So I just made one of his divots about a foot deep and laid his body in it. His head is toward the front door, so his spirit can continue to watch over us. Good night, sweet prince.
