Ike, the Fat Bastard

He got old.  He wore out.  He lived with us for fourteen years.  We know nothing about his life before he came to us, and we don’t know how old he was when he arrived.  We speak of him in the past tense because today we had to put him down.  Ike died today.

I think it is safe to say that those who knew Ike loved him.  But, he was a strange dog.  He was a big, gentle bum of a dog who simply did things his own way.  He was a labrador retriever (at least in part)  and avoided the water, never going into the creek or river deeper than his chest.

dog sitting on bluff overlooking river
black dog with sweet expression wearing red collar

He lived in the shed for the most part; under the truck or tucked into his own little home built of hay bales and plywood.    He waged a private war with possums and at least half of the time they would trick Ike by “playing possum”, then waiting until he was distracted before sneaking off.  Raccoons drove him crazy also, but they did not come in contact.

Big, gentle Ike The Fat Bastard was the unofficial greeter and tour guide here at Rock Eddy Bluff Farm.   He rarely met another dog that he did not like.   He loved to ride in the car or in the side-by-side we use to run around the place.  Otherwise, he was uncooperative, following his own odd instincts instead of allowing your wishes.

Ike was clairvoyant.   He loved to be petted, but he could discern your intentions a mile off.  Petting was welcome, but if you had any intention to treat him for fleas, groom him, or touch him for another purpose,  he knew your carefully-disguised plan immediately.

He was an old country dog that came to live with us.  Now we have lost him.

Goodbye from Tom & Kathy  (The Hired Man and Misses)

dog among trees