My dog Bandit died yesterday. He was about 10 or 11 years old. Bandit died of cancer, opened up on an operating table. We didn’t know anything was wrong with him until he stopped eating a few days ago.
My wife and I tried to give him a good life. Bandit was a border collie, a breed called the Blue Merle. He was born deaf and I’m told that made him unpalatable to the kind of people that want Blue Merle border collies. That made him palatable to my wife and I – we collect losers no one else wants.
What made Bandit special? Many things. Among dogs, he was a loner. The other dogs have a pecking order that is constantly being tested. Bandit really wasn’t into the pack mentality. He just wanted to herd the other dogs, especially little Sparky. Hours and hours would pass while Bandit carefully watched Sparky through the gate that kept him on his side and she on hers. She had little interest in him but he was absolutely fascinated by her. That was his nature and his breeding.
Bandit was smart. He knew sign language – two thumbs up meant good boy and would get his tail wagging. Punching a thumb and index finger together meant NO and would result in a downward head motion – Bandit knew he was being chastised. Since he was deaf, I had to stomp on the floor to get his attention sometimes. Outside at night, we had to flick the lights on the back porch to let him know it was time to come inside and go to bed. Bandit loved to lay outside in the rain during thunderstorms. That among everything else made him unique – most of our collection loser pack has an almost neurotic fear of thunderstorms.
Some of our dogs have issues related to their past lives. Abuse can make a dog afraid of strange things. A rough life and starvation can make a dog demanding when it comes to attention from his or her humans. Years on a chain can make a dog “just a little off.” Bandit had none of these traits (or character flaws, depending how you see the world). When he wanted love he would come over and nudge one of us. A few strokes and a pat on the head were often enough to solicit some of his oddly vocalized sounds of content. If you’ve ever heard human born deaf speaking, you know what I mean. Bandit’s dog sounds were goofy. He barked like a deaf person speaks, and made groans and moans when you rubbed his ears that weren’t quite right. His odd sounds amused me to no end and I used to talk to him in a special voice. I don’t know why because he couldn’t hear me at all.
Bandit’s silent world is finished now. He is not only deaf, he is dumb and blind as well. Good-bye my friend. I will miss your strange bark. When feeding time comes, I will remember the strange little piles of food you used to make and then guard from the other dogs. Every time I hear a crash of thunder, I will remember you laying contendedly in the rain. You were a good dog and I’m glad I was able to know you and share in your existence. For almost a decade, you made my life just a little richer.