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Zeke being Zeke

Thank You

I recieved this email the other day and like a dummy I opened it at work.....and started crying. This is one of the reasons that the military and the soldiers who fight for our freedom can never be thanked enough. Please pass this on to your friends......





TO WHOMEVER GETS MY DOG

Original Source Unknown



They told me the big black lab's name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, and the people were really friendly.

I had only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

Yet, something was still missing as I attempted to settle into my new life here. I thought a dog couldn't hurt and would give me someone to talk to.

I had seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news.. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "lab people," whatever that meant. They must have thought I did.

At first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, a bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

You see, Reggie and I did not really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls...he would not go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I did not really think he would need all his old stuff, and that I would get him new things once he settled in. But it soon became pretty clear that he was not going to do that.

I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, such as "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel". He would follow them, when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name either. Sure, he would look in my direction after the fourth or fifth time I said it, but then he would just go back to doing whatever. When I would ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.

This was just not going to work.

He chewed a couple of shoes and some unpacked boxes.. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it. I could tell. The friction got so bad that I could not wait for the two weeks to be up and, when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cell phone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled - rather cynically - that the "damn dog probably hid it from me."

Finally, I found it. But, before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction. He sniffed it and wagged. This was the most enthusiasm I had seen since bringing him home. Then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I will give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction - maybe "glared" is more accurate - and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down, with his back to me.

Well, that is not going to do it either, I thought as I punched the shelter phone number. However, I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too.

"Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice" as I started to read:



To Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this letter, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip. But this time it's like he knew something was wrong. Which is why I have to try to make it right. So, let me tell you about my lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls...the more the merrier.. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after them so be careful. Don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.

Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again. Reggie knows the obvious ones: "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel". He also knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you put hand straight up; "over" if you put your hand out right or left; "shake" for shaking off water, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down. I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business. I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog.

Feeding schedule. Twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Just use regular store-bought stuff. The shelter has the name of the brand.

He is up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his information with yours. They will make sure to send you reminders for when he is due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. I have never been married, so it has only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He has gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides, if you can. He sits well in the back seat and he does not bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially. Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new. That is why I need to share one more bit of information with you. His name is not Reggie.

I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He is a smart dog. He will get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just could not bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final...that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I would never see him again. And, if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything is fine. But if someone else is reading it, well...well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It will help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you will even notice a change in his demeanor if he has been giving you problems.

His real name is Tank. Because that is what I drive.

Again, if you are reading this and you are from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they could not make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my Company Commander.

You see, my parents are gone. I have no siblings and no one else I could have left Tank with. It was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter...in the "event"...to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my Colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he would do it personally. If you are reading this, then he made good on his word.

Well, this letter is getting too downright depressing even though, frankly, I am just writing it for my dog. I could not imagine if I were writing it for a wife and children and family. But still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.

Now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me. That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things, and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that's enough.

I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I will say another goodbye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight, every night, from me.

Thank you,

Paul Mallory

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory. Everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. He was a local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago. He posthumously earned the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

"Hey, Tank," I said quietly.

The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked, and his eyes were bright.

"Come here, Boy."

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he had not heard in months.

"Tank," I whispered. His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name over and over and, each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me."

Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

"So, what do you say we play some ball?"

His ears perked again.

"Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?"

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room...........

And, when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

Bad day for mommy

So mommy's best friend had surgery yesterday on her back. It was a 12-hr surgery, which went very well. But when they turned my "aunt" over her eyes were bulging out of her head. They had to do additional surgery that took another four hours. They saved both her eyes, but she will be blind in one eye now. Mommy was upset and I tried to comfort her. I'm sad too.
Then mommy got on Dogster today and found out our friend Meaty made it through surgery and was able to keep his eye. That made her smile. We love Meaty and hope his recovery is swift and as painless as possible. Please say an extra prayer for mommy's friend if you can.

Woofs,
Zeke

I'm naked!!!

It's been warm out lately here. Mommy's been saying as soon as it gets warm enough, we were going to see Lana. Lana's my groomer. She's pretty and I love going there. So on Tuesday, mommy loaded me and Brinlee up and took us for our regular baths and trim. ONLY....I didn't get a trim. I got shaved down to my tookie. I mean I look like cross between a cow and a dalmation. Mommy and Dada say I look so cute, but I'm not so sure. And, I had to wear my sweater yesterday because it was a little chilly out. It's a nice sweater, mommy said I look like Jimmy Connors in it. As for me, I'm still not sure about this whole being naked thing!

Laters,
Zeke