Duke

I don't even know how to begin writing about Duke. He's been a part of this adventure from the time he was only just a few months old, and many times has been the one to cheer and comfort me when it's been most needed.

A White Shepherd, Duke is the absolute epitome of his breed (although he falls at the top end of the size guidelines - you can look up the breed specs and know it's Duke they're talking about!) and has a most impressive pedigree.

The thing about White Shepherds, and specifically about Duke, is that they are not aggressors. They look intimidating, which is part of the appeal for a woman alone in the world in which we live in, but will not attack. 

IF there's an unavoidable and serious threat he will defend, yes. He's never had to, thank goodness, nor do I expect that situation will ever arise. If it does, somebody's liable to be sorry for starting something. 

*chuckle*

The first time a guy came to read the meter when Duke was outside I got a knock at my front door. He told me that Duke had come to meet him, all tail-wagging and happy. But as soon as he put his hand on the gate to open it he got a growl instead of that wagging tail. Smart man that he is, he came around to the front so I could introduce the two of them properly. Introductions duly performed, the meter reader guy comes and goes at will, tail-wagging back on a permanent basis.

One time a man parked across the street from our yard for twenty minutes or so, not doing anything but just sitting there watching our house. Duke and Baby (another dog we had at the time) were out in the yard. This was a suspicious circumstance and they barked to get my attention; I let them bark. 

It's Duke's job to alert me and to keep on alerting me until I tell him that something is okay. It was not really okay with me to have that guy sitting in his car across the street watching my house - and I wasn't about to go out there to find out what he might have wanted. So Duke and Baby kept barking - that person wasn't supposed to be there and I wasn't going to tell them to hush. I wanted the person to know darned well that those dogs were there guarding the property. He never did get out of his vehicle and eventually drove away. 

If he meant no harm, he could have gotten out of his vehicle, come up to the house, and been introduced properly. After that, he might have gotten a couple of welcoming barks to let me know that someone okay was nearby, but not the extended warning.

Once Duke meets a person and knows that person is okay by me to be around, he's okay with it too. That person is forever in his good graces. He never forgets anyone.

One day the neighbor kids were over playing fetch with him, throwing sticks and balls over the closed gate from the outside. They stayed for quite a while and then went to riding their small bike and a skateboard or something on the sidewalk. Duke must have thought they were doing something dangerous, were playing too close to the street, or something. He barked his attention-getting bark until I came and told him they were fine and just playing. Then he settled but didn't stop watching them. He keeps an eye on the neighborhood children.

I took a road trip last year, got to see people I haven't seen in much too long. Duke came along for the adventure. We stopped at my cousin Scott's where Duke and Scott's dog Cockroach (it's Scotty, what can I say - he picks the names he likes for his critters) had a whale of a time rousing about as though they'd been friends since puppy-hood. 

                                                             

 Here again, same trip, different cousin. When we pulled up in front of Bill's house he came charging out of the house shouting, 'Duke's back! Duke's back!' The reunion was a fine thing to see. As you can tell from the photo below, Duke looks at Bill with great affection. He's also got one ear cocked toward the front door, just in case ... 

Initially we got Duke to be guardian to my youngest daughter, college bound in MN. She is 'his girl' and when she's around he's never far from her if he can help it. Her voice on speaker-phone is enough to bring him from the far reaches of the house or even from the far corners of our yard. His hearing is acute as is his sense of smell - you'd think he'd know she isn't actually here, and he no doubt does. He just loves hearing her voice saying his name.

 

Below is a young Duke with my second daughter when she was home on a visit.

I have yet to see a happier, more content, dog than the one below. Heather may be relaxed but Duke is happily on guard.

Below is the look on Duke's face on meeting Heather. That's one of his parents in the background at their home in CO. The devotion in those eyes and the attention in those ears has never remitted, not once in the years that Duke has been sharing our adventure.

As you can see below, he's just as affectionate with me, when I allow it. I am the 'alpha bitch' of this equation, make no mistake. He could easily snap my arm in half or tear my throat out but it's not in him to do any such thing.

Below is another instance of the tenderness of his protectiveness. He has several stuffed animals ... a teddy bear, a loon, a burro, a pony ... these he will carry around 'til the cows come home. He has yet to break a stitch on any of them. They might get a little slobbery but they are never ever harmed.

This from a dog who can tear a tennis ball to bits in a matter of minutes and get a cover off of an empty pop bottle in about a second (it took him three seconds at first but he's gotten way better at it) and reduce a pork leg bone to next to nothing.

Here Duke and T-Bone, the terrier/chihuahua we had when we got Duke are playing tug of war. One of the funniest things I ever saw was shortly after Duke came. The two of them were 'playing' and the next thing we knew T-Bone had Duke on his back and was standing on his chest with one paw raised like, 'Ha! He might be big but I'm still top dog around here!' And that's the way it was. I don't play tug of war with Duke. If I want something that he's got, he gives it to me. If he wants something I have, he waits until I give it to him or takes no for an answer without fuss.  

Below he's collected some of the 'knuckle-bones' as I call them, from a local store that does butchering, of hogs mainly. They never last long because Duke loves them. You'll also see a lemon there. One of the games Duke loves to play is 'find it and bring it' and we used lemons at first because, well, their scent is easy. I'd show him the lemon, let him smell it, then make him sit and stay in one room while I roamed the house with the lemon, laying out a trail for him to follow and hiding the lemon. 

I have to say his ears told him exactly where I was at all times and his nose led him directly to the lemon every time. We switched to potatoes, and then used golf balls until he took to randomly finding them and chomping them open in no time flat. When I saw what's inside of golf balls I stopped having them around. Duke likes eggs too and once in a while I'll hide one for him to find and bring. Hasn't broken one yet, not until I tell him he can have it.

And here's a photo of those deadly jaws that can also be so gentle.

Below, Duke with his teddy bear again. I'll never get over how he takes such tender care of his 'little ones'.

On guard in my studio.

Duke doesn't know we're going to the lake cabin in the photo below, but that's 'his girl' he's next to and he's one happy dog. When we got to the lake, he roamed a bit and then headed for the water in no uncertain terms. That's when we found out that his feet are webbed. Literally. He loves swimming but rarely gets a chance to these days, sadly. He also outgrew that harness in short order.

*laughing about the webbed feet*

When I tell people that Duke's temperament is most of the time more like a retriever's than a shepherd's, I ought to include those feet and his love of the water. People look at me sideways when I tell them that, until they get to know Duke. His appearance is so familiar to me that I often forget how intimidating a 100 pound dog with broad shoulders, a mouth full of deadly teeth and fangs, and the general shape of a shepherd can be. That's the difference, and the edge. Unless you're familiar with the breed, you're likely to see a German Shepherd instead of a White Shepherd. The Whites tend to be stockier and stand squared, but the general look of them is still very much Shepherd.

The temperament thing is true though, for the most part. He's friendly as all get-out and loves people I lot more than I do, to be honest. He's lots nicer too, when it comes to that.

I've heard him growl less times than I can count on one hand. Once was at an aggressive dog, warning it off. It went. Once was the time the meter man told me about it although I never heard that one. Once was in the deep of the night and I still have no idea what that was all about; whoever or whatever it might have been also probably heard that growl and found some wisdom. 

The other time makes me laugh to this day. I was working on portraits of the Characters of my books and had almost finished Danann's. I set it up in my studio at about the height of Danann - well over six feet tall, that Character - and was busy in another room. Duke came and got me, leading me out into the studio and growling in the direction of the front porch. So I went out there to investigate and found nothing that Duke could have been growling at. Went back to my project and here came Duke again. Same thing. I knew there was nothing out in the front porch so watched this time to see what he might be growling at inside the studio.

It was the portrait of Danann!

Now I'm not all that good an artist, but something about that face, and maybe the placement of the portrait, got Duke's attention. And it's funny - there was no associated scent but it was most definitely Danann that Duke was concerned about. So I got the portrait down, did the 'introduction' thing, and all was well. No more growling at Danann. He never growled at the other portraits as I'd gotten them done, just that one.

There are a couple of adorable little yappers who moved in a couple of houses down. They're out in their little yard a lot and they yap the whole time they're out. Duke likes them, is maybe curious about them, and barks back. He's a lot more social than I am, and I would dearly love to know what those canine conversations consist of. 

Once I left the porch door open, totally forgetting that I hadn't latched Duke's room door. Out he flashed. I followed him straight to the penned little yappers (maybe he thinks they're his 'little ones' come to life) and home we went.

There are at least nine dogs on our block now, that I know of. A lab, a husky of some kind, and another yapper to add to the ones I've already mentioned. There was one more but that one went away.

When we came back to ND from CO, bringing Duke with us, a family had moved into our neighborhood with their three dogs. The first thing we did, even before getting down to work on the house projects, was build a strong wooden Duke Fence. The three dogs would come around and Duke wanted to play with them in the worst way, can't fault him for that. 

He didn't get to ... until he figured out how to work doorknobs.

It took me a mite longer to figure out that he knew any such thing. He let himself out to play a time or two before I caught him at it. From what the owners of the other dogs told me the four of them had been having a heck of a good time. When I showed up to fetch him, I approached one of the other dogs for an ear ruffle and Duke had that dog on its back quicker than a finger snap. No harm, of course, just a friendly warning and all is well.

But Duke doesn't get to run free. For one thing there's a leash law in our town. For another, there are lots and lots of new folks here now who don't know him and might be startled some at the sight of him running around.

Now, the doors of my house are the old-fashioned kind that take skeleton keys to lock, an aside here that will make sense in a minute.

I took the doorknobs off of the door that he can use to let himself outside, the one that doesn't lead into one of the fenced yards.

And all was well until I got home from work in the middle of a howling blizzard to find my house freezing and the door into Duke's yard blowing wide open. Not wanting any more of that, off came those doorknobs too.

The door to my courtyard is the only ordinary one in the bunch but Duke doesn't open it when I've got the 'signal' piece of plywood in place near it. If he ever did, he'd only get as far as the courtyard anyway.

The front door I key lock when I'm gone unless Duke is confined to his room - and that's no real hardship for him as his room is the old kitchen, and an open door to the whole bigness of the basement. Usually he's got the run of the house including the full big basement, and his yard is plenty spacious - especially when I open the gate between his yard and my courtyard. 

He's not kenneled. 

Ever. 

We did have an outdoor kennel for him at one time, when we were staying at a house with an un-fenced yard while working on the major projects of this one. I will never subject him to that again. Most of the time he was with us but once in a while he had to be out there. I've seen dogs tied up outside and also locked up in those kennels, doing what Duke did when he was confined in one - pacing and pacing and pacing, maybe laying down for a bit but then pacing and pacing and pacing. Hurts something inside of me, that does.

But those are the choices of others; Duke and I are content with our own choices.

He doesn't really like loud voices raised in anger any more than I do. At one time there was a couple next door who fought like crazy and he'd come to me whining, ears perked toward the ruckus, maybe wanting me to go over there and make them stop, who knows? They didn't stay long, relatively speaking. It disturbed him (and me) but as they weren't directing their venom at me (and as far as I know it never got physical) we didn't interfere. IF, however, anyone should choose to raise their voice to me I'd be willing to bet that they'd hear a warning growl from Duke. If they took it to the next step and laid a violent hand on me I would have not the slightest qualm about calling Duke.

I think Duke loves road-tripping with me. We can't really afford to do it often, but last year's expedition was probably more fun for Duke than he's had for that long a period of time in his entire life. He got to be right with me, for one thing. He got to ride in the truck (and not a single whine of complaint even during the very long driving stretches). I reclined the passenger seat and filled in front of it so he had room to stretch out. I kind of looked at him with a bit of envy now and then, wishing we could trade places and he could drive for a change.

He got to see and smell and hear I don't even know how many new people, places, critters, and things. His senses are so far beyond the capabilities of mine that it must have been almost sensory overload for him at times. He got to go to the vet ahead of time, to get his traveling papers (behaved himself quite very well even though there was a cat he really really wanted to chase). He got to romp around down Phantom Canyon a bit. Here's our favorite rest stop, high in the hills. There's a stream/creek nearby.

But mostly he got to be around people. 

I get 'peopled out' pretty quickly - Duke doesn't. He got to play with Cockroach. He got to hang out with Bill. He got to spend time with his favorite of my sisters. She's the one he's seen the most of, even though she lives in CO now and before that CA, and the other two live right close by, one in our little town and the other on a farm a few miles out. This is the one who sends him tennis balls and had a custom dog tag made for him 'Duke of the North'. He got to go out to the ranch with me. He got to watch the goings on of a little mountain town or two. He didn't endure the trip; he loved it and lived it to the hilt. 

As it's getting on that time of year again, he jumps into the truck every chance he gets. Smart dog, I have to admit. Smarter than I am and much easier to get along with. I too want badly to jump in the truck and head out - we can't really afford any such thing but ... maybe we can't afford not to. 

Below, one of my favorite Duke pictures. A pup yet, he's alert and on guard.

He's not a puppy any more - he'll be nine this fall. I'm already dreading the loss I know is to come. I won't get another once he's gone; there will never be another Duke.