Is it wrong to write an obituary for a dog?
Throughout my life I have shared time with several dogs. Each one has been there during the good, the bad and the ugly. Each one of them has had a personality and character that has provided me with hope and enjoyment. One such dog was Rufus.
I was thousands of miles away in Texas. I was still grieving for my Father. Knowing that my Mother had to make that difficult decision. Alone. to take Rufus on his last car ride hit me hard. I cried. It was another loved one whose time on this world had drawn to an end. So I wrote...
Rufus was there for me when I went through dark periods of my life. He was my confidant, his coat used to be covered in my tears as I wept. He went on dates with me, if the girl didn’t get his approval than that was that! He was my doorman when I opened a bar, he was my friend and he was a member of my family.
I was thousands of miles away in Texas. I was still grieving for my Father. Knowing that my Mother had to make that difficult decision. Alone. to take Rufus on his last car ride hit me hard. I cried. It was another loved one whose time on this world had drawn to an end. So I wrote...
Is it wrong to write an obituary for a dog?
Yesterday Rufus, a 14 year old dog took his final car ride to rest in a small part of Cornwall. There is nothing unique in that, what is unique is the story of this German Shepherd and his life.
Back in 2005 I had recently been posted to Mozambique to manage the Northern Border Project. An extensive program that existed to clear over 50,000 landmines laid in the 1960s and early 1970s by the Portuguese to prevent Soldiers from FRELIMO invading across the Tanzanian Border. I was 28 and living in a remote town and operating further out into the bush. My command of the Portuguese language was minimal, my ability to speak Makonde, Makua or Swahili was non existent.
Loneliness and isolation plays a huge part on morale and mental well being. Friendship and community mean a lot, bonds between colleagues becomes strong.
The NGO I was working for had just retired their working Landmine clearance dogs and our Fleet Manager had acquired one of the program dogs. Over times this beast of a dog sired many litters of pups. It was at this time I was offered the opportunity to choose one. I jumped at the chance, and on one weekend I visited the litter. There were a number of pups all running around, and out of this whirlwind of fur, one little male waddled over to me and sat down. Looked me straight in the eyes and licked my hand. That was that. I didn’t choose a dog he chose me.
A few weeks later when he was weaned I collected him, placed him in a cardboard box with one of my t shirts and we made the long drive back to Mueda. I intended to call him Rupert, the name that is given to newly commissioned officers in the British Army. However, he was no Rupert, as my staff mispronounced that name and he quickly became Rufus.
Rufus was a loyal, and rebellious dog that learned many disciplines not all good.
Through little encouragement and lots of cashew nuts he became highly proficient in the discipline of barking....constantly. His forte however was shouting loudly in a Land Rover. Helpful at police checkpoints - loud for the hours in between. His tail wagged, his eyes gleamed, this was his territory. His love for vehicles and in particular Land Rovers was with him to the day he died.
As my constant shadow he went everywhere with me. From walking the escarpments of the Makonde Highlands to the beaches of Cabo Delgado he was my boy. At an early age he decided that it was his role to “Check the Perimeter” of our camps, during which he would throw himself at the picket wall at an attempt to chase off Hyenas.
He accompanied me on dugout canoes for hours as we made our way along crocodile inhabited rivers. He got arrested for stealing a football on a beach. He covered thousands of miles as we transferred equipment to the south of the country.
He was there when I needed a friend.
As my time came to an end in Mozambique, there was no question that I would leave him there. I applied for his passport, got all of his vaccinations up to date and bought him a ticket to the United Kingdom. He spent six months in quarantine, I can only imagine what went through His head as he shivered in a small kennel in Devon. The cold winter meant that he had a special heater above him.
Six months is a long time to be in a cell, especially if you are used to the Savannah’s. When his time was up I was in Afghanistan and my parents somehow agreed that he could come and live with them. His transition was not the easiest, a fight with a local dog ended up in tears and stitches for my mother.
Six months is a long time to be in a cell, especially if you are used to the Savannah’s. When his time was up I was in Afghanistan and my parents somehow agreed that he could come and live with them. His transition was not the easiest, a fight with a local dog ended up in tears and stitches for my mother.
Despite this initial impression they kept him... including sessions with a dog therapist! As they all adjusted I realised that he had a wonderful home and I’m so grateful to my parents for this. Their perseverance and love to Rufus helped his transition to life in the U.K. Trust built between them all.
Rufus was there for me when I went through dark periods of my life. He was my confidant, his coat used to be covered in my tears as I wept. He went on dates with me, if the girl didn’t get his approval than that was that! He was my doorman when I opened a bar, he was my friend and he was a member of my family.
Over the years, his coat turned from jet black to lighter tones of grey. He grudgingly welcomed a new puppy, Nukka into the household. First with distain, which then grew into companionship.
He welcomed my son Ranulph into the family home on my return from Ghana. He became my parents dog, he lived and adored my mother and father and it was reciprocated.
He sat with my father as he grew ill and later sat beside his coffin after he passed.
He looked after my mother when I could not. His bark and size provided me with the assurance nobody would visit our house without an invitation. His presence insured that during a time of grief and acceptance, my Mother had companionship.
I’m so proud of Rufus and the joy and on occasion despair that he brought into our lives, we are all richer for the love that he showed us.
I was overwhelmed on his passing and cried - yep a grown man cried and grieved for a friend.
I will never be able to run on the beach with him, will never hear his bark again or have the opportunity to place my head by his and tell him what troubles me.
Throughout his life Rufus met a lot of people, the messages of support I have received from across the world from friends that knew him to those who did not have that pleasure. Has raised my heart.
Rufus you were loved by many, yet only you and I will know those secrets that you take with you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you for that last walk. Until I join you, run free and stand beside my Father.
I will miss you my friend