RE: The Story of Doc the Beagle

huskies r perfect — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 19:30:31 GMT

Aww, that's too cute. <3

And those eyes are simply beautiful...as well as his coat. Ever since I fell in love with a Beagle at my Humane Society I've loved them..especially the tri-colors. They remind me of Natalie. Beautiful story.

RE: The Story of Doc the Beagle

davidfbarton — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 18:05:46 GMT

What a lovely looking Boxer... and the snowy scene is idyllic. Living in the woods of Wisconsin, Doc and I spent a lot of time in the snow on the Freedom Trail.

RE: The Story of Doc the Beagle

davidfbarton — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 17:58:50 GMT

What a lovely boxer... in a snowy idyllic setting. Living in Wisconsin, Doc and I used to play in the snow a lot on the freedom trail. Attached is a photo of him in some deep white stuff.

RE: The Story of Doc the Beagle

davidfbarton — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 17:29:15 GMT

Sorry to hear about Bandito. That is a very nice photo of your dogs you posted. I'm sure you and Simba look for Bandito every time you open the door. Kind of like what I do every night when I come home looking for Doc. I hope you find him soon.

RE: The Story of Doc the Beagle

BouncingBoxer01 — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 23:24:29 GMT

Wow, what a touching story. It brought tears to my eyes.

RE: The Story of Doc the Beagle

muttlover17 — Sat, 22 Mar 2008 20:54:45 GMT

that was really nice,it really warmed my heart.thanks for sharing.

The Story of Doc the Beagle

davidfbarton — Sat, 22 Mar 2008 07:08:15 GMT

I hope this story makes you smile.

Thanks

David Barton, McFarland, WI

**************************************

The Story of Doc the Beagle

by David Barton, March 3, 2008, McFarland, WI

The thick, wooden door to the visiting room at the animal shelter slowly opened and a spindly-legged, giant eared tri-color beagle puppy

bolted into the room and blasted toward our 11 year old daughter and promptly peed on her shoes. “Daddy, I’ve got to have this dog; I’ll

take care of it forever, I really will,” said Jane, almost in tears. The puppy wriggled in ecstasy and peed on Jane again. (I could grow to like this dog, I thought.)

So that’s how Dopey came to live with us. Seven dwarves and they had to name him Dopey. Upon arrival home, he immediately peed

in his new crate. He quickly decided he was going to be a full fledged member of the family. I put him in the mud room with his crate and erected

a short fence, the kind you see in infant nurseries. Dopey figured out how to climb over the fence within a few hours. Thanks to that maneuver,

he earned the name of Doc, smartest of all the dwarves. At least he was smarter than me.

Doc really didn’t need his eyes to get around, they were there for show… their rich grey-brown luster could make your skin tingle; “voodoo eyes”

a friend called them. No, Doc was 100% sniffer, an olfactory phenomenon… a nose with legs. When he sat down on our dock along the Yahara River,

he would lift his nose skyward and mysteriously enter into a trance, taking each of the three million smells individually sampling them one by one.

He was in heaven on that dock.

In a former life, Doc must have been a seafaring captain, as much as he loved to ride in our pontoon boat on Lake Kegonsa. He always scampered

to the front of the boat and stood stiff-legged as we hammered through the two to three foot swells. When I called him, he would join me

on the driver’s bench and help me steer. With a stiff west wind, his beagle ears would rise up majestically like Dumbo

flaps as he smiled broadly. (I’m convinced we picked up a few miles-per-hour whenever the flaps came up.)

Doc was not a complex thinker, but he was a great teacher. My wife Mary described some of Doc’s finer musings,

often taught on a long walk along the Freedom Trail, a public wild place and wetland in the Town of Dunn just down the road from our house.

Slow down. Take a sniff. Pause and appreciate the world around you.
Trust yourself and your instincts.
When you are tired, rest. Shady spots are good for that.
When you are thirsty, drink. Rain puddles are good for that.
When you need sleep, nap. Pillows are good for that.
When you need some love, put your head in the nearest lap. Someone will scratch behind your ears.

Doc built a reputation around the neighborhood as a lover, not a fighter. He never growled and he only barked a handful of times in his life

(usually when I needed to pay attention.) Even the uptight local dogs grew to like him. When we’d walk down the road, neighbors would

holler, “Hey, Doc, what’s happening?” “How’s it goin’, Doc?” And, of course, the obligatory “What’s up, Doc?” I would smile sheepishly…

he knew the neighborhood better than me.

Doc aged pretty gracefully, a grey beard by age nine. But always with the piercing eyes that could see right through me. I cherished our long walks,

especially when our entire family would amble along the Freedom Trail together. Doc would run free and bound through the dense pockets of tall native

grasses, incredibly alive. We could see the tops of the grass islands quaking and quivering and eventually our beagle would pop out the end.

When Doc started losing control of his hindquarters, we bought him a little red wagon, a Radio Flyer, the very best beagle carriage made by man.

Through snow and ice, we followed our hallowed neighborhood paths… me pulling and Doc ensconced in the driver’s seat. Eventually kidney

failure and Cushings laid Doc low. The vet called it “multiple organ failure.” He was so right, Doc’s organs and our family’s hearts. But we all knew it was time.

He needed to get to that place where the beagle always catches the rabbit.

Thanks, Doc, for everything. I love you so much. You made me a better person. Whenever I see an island of thick, tall native grass, I hold my breath hoping

that you will come bounding out the far side and jump wildly and blissfully into my open arms again.

**************************************

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