My Hutchy 24.Jan.2007

Last night, just after sunset, I worked my way outside to feed my horse, Butch and my dog, Hutch. It was truly a California night. In late January, when most of the country is suffering through cold temperatures and snow, on this evening, we were basking in the glory of another beautiful night. I thought to myself as I walked outside; "Man it sure is nice out". Temps were in the mid to lower 70's and there was a gentle, hardly noticeable breeze coming from the north.

Usually I am greeted first by Hutch, who would playfully run out ahead of me, and show me where his food bowl is. As if without him, I would never know where to put his kibble. Tonight, the lazy dog didn't run out to greet me. I noticed that the gate to the six by twelve chain link dog kennel that I converted into a shed to keep the feed in was open. I figured old, crazy Hutchy was in there hunting for mice or trying to get into his food bin. It was getting dark, and I couldn't really see if he was in the kennel or not. As I got closer, I discovered that he wasn't there.

I fed big Butch, and topped off his water. Still no sign of Hutch.

"I wonder if he got out through the gate", I thought to myself. I visualized him carelessly running around, watering the neighbor's flowers. I knew he would never attack or do anything to anyone. He's 10 1/2 years old, and really grown into such a mellow, loving dog. But still, when people see a rottweiler running around loose, they tend to get a little nervous. No thanks to the media, and bad image that has been associated with the breed in recent years. If he was out, I'd have to make sure to find him before someone else. They might call the police, and who knows what an officer might do to protect the public from an "unsecured man eating rottweiler".

I focused my attention on the gate that leads to our yard. It looked closed. I walked closer. Then, I noticed a dark object lying in the dirt against the side of our home. "Hutchy, come on..." He was motionless. "Come on buddy. Hey Hutch..."

He was dead. He looked like does when he sleeps, his jaw resting on his front right arm. I touched him, and felt his side. He was still somewhat warm. His extremities moved freely and without any signs of stiffness. He had just passed. Probably at the exact moment that I was enjoying the warmth and beauty of this gorgeous Southern California night, he was taking his last breaths.

I wonder if he heard me at the door, got excited, tried to get up, then had some kind of heart attack. I wonder if he got into something poisonous. What could have taken him so quickly.
Earlier that day my wife and kids gave him a bath and played ball with him in the warmth of the day.

His last day was full of doggie treats and playing fetch. He didn't suffer, which is a good thing I suppose. His sister (yes, you guessed it "Starsky") was diagnosed with bone cancer last summer. She suffered with pain for months. We had her on pain medication that made her feel better, but sucked all the life out of her. We lost her in mid December. For ten years, since the day he was born, Hutch had Starsky with him every single day. In the days after she was gone, I caught him standing where she used to lay. He would sniff around the area, then howl. He would sniff the air with his nose up, and howl some more. There is not a doubt in my mind that he missed her. Their whole life Starsky and Hutch were a "pack". Now, he was a pack of one and his mourning was more than clear.

Anyone who claims that dogs don't have feelings or emotions, has never owned a dog that they loved.

I had a rotty of my own before I met my wife. On New Years day 1996, I found "Junior" as a stray in south central Los Angeles. He was hungry and scared from a rough night dodging the hail of bullets falling from the sky, fired from the guns of drunk and careless revelers. I fed Junior a chicken sandwich from the vending machine at work. We became instant pals.

Junior was the best dog that ever walked the face of the earth, period. I loved that dog. He was my buddy.

I met my wife, who had two rotties of her own. Starsky and Hutch were still pups when we met. After a somewhat bumpy start, the pack of three rotties was happy, balanced, and healthy.

Hutch was young and strong, and ended up being the alpha of the pack, but that was ok. Junior was older, and so mellow, that he really wasn't interested in being the "leader". He was my dog, and he didn't care about anything else other than me. In return, I protected Junior, and unknowingly or unintentionally was a better "dad" to him than the other two.

Star and Hutchy belonged to my wife, and it showed. They were always more like step-dogs to me.

I lost Junior right around the time the school shooting happened at Columbine High in Colorado. I think it was May of 1999 (does that sound right?). He had developed stomach cancer, and no matter what we did to try to extend his life, it took him quickly and without mercy.

I miss Junior even to this day. He was my Old Yeller, Rin Tin Tin and Lassie all rolled into one.

Over the years, Hutch and I grew closer. As he matured, he became more reserved and mellow. He developed a lot of the traits that I enjoyed about my Junior. He would come over and nudge your hand in an attempt to get some lovin'. He loved playing ball, and swimming, and chasing squirrels. He was a good dog.

He was the strongest and most invincible out of the three rotties. Nothing could get him. He got into a pack of disposable razors once when he was a puppy. He ate the entire pack, blades and all. He didn't so much as even get a scratch in his mouth. Nothing ever happened to him. Hutchy was crazy.

He lived a great and full life right up to the end. He was happy, healthy, big and strong. And just like that, he was gone. I'm glad he didn't suffer like Star did, but I wish I could've been there for him. I regret that he wasn't in the house on his bed when it happened. I wish I could've held him when he died like I did for Junior and Star. He deserved that. He was a good boy.

He'll be missed, but I truly believe that he has moved on. I believe in my heart that the Lord does allow animals into Heaven. Don't ask me why I think that. I just feel it's true in my heart. I don't base it upon any particular Bible verse or anything. It's just a sense of peace that I feel about the topic. What would heaven be like if we couldn't enjoy the presence of your loved ones, including our beloved pets? I know Junior and Satrsky and Hutch are running through fields of grass, playing and happy. Together again as an in-tact "pack".

You're a good boy Hutch.

-Rob Golden

The Purple Line is Fading

I was on Figueroa and 2nd street today, and noticed that the purple line is fading away. Any true Angelino knows the line of which I am speaking. It's the strip of bright purple paint on both sides of Figueroa about 4 feet from the curb. Every year, when the Lakers win the championship they have a parade down Fig. The lines in the road are designed to keep the crowds back. The people aren't allowed to cross that line. If they do, they risk being struck by one of the passing vehicles or cops on motorcycles and bikes that are zipping past. Nothing else would reall happen to them though. No one is really going to go to all the trouble of removing a spectator from the event simply because he crossed the line of lavendar.
But for the most part, the crowds really do stay behind the line. Odd as it may seem, the same fans that overturned a police car, set it on fire, and rioted down the streets of downtown Los Angeles after the 2000 championship win, and again the year after or 2002, (I forget which), later obeidiantly stood behind the purple line and cheered for their NBA Champs.
Strange isn't it?
But what I noticed today reminded me of how long it has been since the purple paint has been brought out from some street maintanence yard and sprayed down onto Fig.
I told you we should've kept Shaq.
It's still there though. It hasn't completely faded away. Maybe this year we'll get the chance to dust off the buckets of purple stain.
Peace -RG