Walker Dog

My dad's dog, Walker, passed away two days ago.  Walker arrived one year after my parents moved in to their lake house, actually, while we were living with Mom and Dad for a couple months while relocating to Brandon.  I remember encouraging Dad to take the dog in, saying, "Dad, you need him!"  Walker really chose the lake though, sun bathing that summer and posing such a perfect picture of contentment in Dad's yard that he did, of course, take him in.  My Dad wrote the following tribute to Walker.  I added a few photos taken by myself, Jimmy, and the last taken just a month ago by my sister Susan.

                                                                   WALKER

        I buried him by moonlight and suppose that was right and fitting for a hound that loved to run the woods by night.

        Walker would not be confined.  There was something in his spirit that defied all fences.  He was a close and faithful companion, yet at the same time fiercely stubborn and independent.  Walker was a survivor.  He came to us as a stray about nine months of age and managed to live fourteen years as a free dog, avoiding trucks and cars, capture (although I did pay a one hundred dollar ransom to get him back one time), alligators, snakes, food poisoning, and who knows what else.


     
        Walker spent a day (22 hours) in the trunk of our car, quiet and content as I drove the same car out looking for him, windows down whistling and shouting his name.  Only when he heard me getting on my bike the next morning to take lost dog flyers to the neighborhood did he utter a sound.

        The dog truly enjoyed travel, by land or sea.  When I allowed him to ride in the cab of the truck he sat up and seemed to be reading the billboards and roadsigns.  I've never had a better first mate.  Walker was a salty sailor and knew exactly when to head for the high side as the breeze came strong. He made the entire lake neighborhood his domain and all the lake residents came to enjoy Walker.  He was brave to the point of stupidity.  When the pit bull, Tyson, from next door came into the yard among the grandchildren, Walker attacked and in a flash was on the back of a dog twice his size with a mouth full of ear.  Tyson lost that round, threw in the towel and sulked back home.


     
      In a dog, the eyes are everything, and hounds are the winners in the eyes category, Walker appeared to be wearing eyeliner all the time.  He had beautiful brown eyes that could smile, say, "Whatever," or make you want to cry.  Most everyone thought Walker was a "cool dog" and I think the eyes played a major part in his coolness.


     
         In his last five years Walker graciously shared his kingdom with our black lab, Abby.  It took a little time before she was accepted as a fast friend.  Abby will miss him.

         Walker was crafty, especially when he would dart into the house behind you before the door closed.  He loved comfort and I believe his dying wish was to sleep in the middle of one of the blue couches.  Sorry boy, that just wasn't to be.  He was an outside dog and that is when I will miss him.  It will take a while to not look for him every time I open the door to go to the shop or wherever.


     
God gave us a very unique creation when He blessed us with dogs.  They remind us of His faithfulness and forgiveness.

        I agree with whoever said, 'Lord, make me half the man my dog thinks I am!"

Dad and Pop
January 30, 2015