Dogs — David K. Buchholz

Bobi (pictured below) has been certified by the Guinness Book of Records as the oldest dog. Ever. A record exists of Bobi’s birth, and Bobi is still active, living on a family farm in Portugal. Bobi bumps into things. So do I.

Long before Bobi was born, Rawlins, Wyoming made his appearance. Not the city, but the dog. Rawlins was our first dog, purchased in 1970, an AKC basset hound known in heady AKC circles as “Erf.” And why Rawlins? Shortly after Jadyne and I were married we rented a U-Haul van and drove from San Francisco to Cincinnati. Our first night was in Wendover, NV (or Wendover UT, depending on which part of Wendover you were staying.) The next day we headed East, beginning with a forty mile stretch of I-80 that doesn’t bend or curve, rise or fall. Forty miles. I was driving on the misty freeway when at 70 mph I found the van had hydroplaned on the wet surface, and we were now perpendicular to the road, going sideways at 70mph. I turned the wheel the opposite direction, then turned again, then again, not touching the brakes, not panicking, just slowing down. We found ourselves on the shoulder, stopped and facing the road, right side up and safe.

The van had an engine between the front seats and little weight in the back, so it was unsafe at any speed. We spent the night in Rawlins, Wyoming, giving thanks for our safety. We acknowledged our good fortune that day by naming our dog. And without further ado, here’s Rawlins, Wyoming.

Jadyne thought he should have a companion so we bought another basset. Dillon, Montana. And a third, Bosco, but that’s another story.

And here’s a photograph of Aspen, our golden retriever, born in 1988, the source of much joy and affection by us Buchholzes. We had never intended to get a dog, but in 1988 Jadyne’s beloved sister was killed in an avalanche, and our kids needed something to love.

We started with a rabbit. John named him/her “Snicker.” We went on vacation and left Snicker with the Jovells. When we returned Snicker wasn’t there to welcome us. We suspected that the Jovells ate him.

So then we bought a golden retriever. We wanted the kids to name her. Eight year old John suggested “Pancho Punch,” (not a favorite), then Jason came up with “Velcro” because my brother’s dog was “Buttons”, and they were sort of related. He then came up with Aspen, commemorating Teeny by naming the dog for the place where she died. Here’s Aspen as a puppy. P.S. Not to let John feel slighted we named our 1988 Land Cruiser “Punch.” It was with us longer than either Aspen or Bobi.

Older than Aspen was “Angie,” a toy poodle belonging to my brother Jack and my sister-in-law Barbara. As Angie aged she required medical attention to keep her going, as in $$$ medical attention. It’s tough to know when to pull the plug, when repairing the car costs more than the new one. When Aspen developed sores, open wounds actually, on her legs that the vet said wouldn’t heal, we reluctantly had her put to sleep.

Here’s Angie ca. 1967.

A friend of John and Kim was moving and had to leave Rocky behind. Rocky was a Bernese Mountain Dog without a mountain. An omnivore, he ate little girls’ underpants. I mean, that kind of an omnivore. I brought a bowl of cherries to their house. Rocky ate them all. The same night he ate my white socks. I found one in the yard the next day. A few days later Kim found the matching sock. It was red. We brought chicken for lunch when we were called on to babysit. He ate all the pieces, the bones, two apples, the paper bag, and some of the plastic wrap. Rocky developed a tumor on his leg. When he brushed up against you, he rubbed the tumor on your pant leg. It bled, not your leg, but the tumor. Here’s Rocky.

Totally loveable when he wasn’t bleeding on you.

John and Kim found Huey, a rescue dog. Here he is as a puppy. He’s at the end of his life now, incontinent, but still loved.

Kim comes from a family of dog lovers. In this image we are at her parents’ house. Rocky and Huey are at either end of the sofa. One of the four remaining dogs belonged to Kim’s mother, the others to her two sisters. Maybe one was a stray. It would have been welcomed. IDK.

Jadyne’s brother and sister-in-law have always owned dogs, like a zillion of them. Shorty was all by himself when Sean found him. Unafraid, adventurous, and funny as hell, Shorty was our favorite. Alas, Shorty is no longer with us, except in photographs.

One more family dog, image to be added later. Shadow, a purebred mix of about forty-six different breeds was discovered in an ad on Craigslist, then picked up from a woman at a parking lot in Sacramento by Jennifer, Andrew, Isla, and Susanto. My initial dealings with a yet-to-be-included Shadow weren’t so favorable, as she twice destroyed our screen door, urinated freely, (submissive incontinence), jumped on everyone, chased cars, and frightened Hazel. She’s calmer now, loved by the Geens, and no longer frightens Hazel. She’s insane, though, getting her ya-ya’s out enthusiastically biting a steel pole in their backyard. For the record. Shadow can’t be overlooked.

Our friends Chris and Dave Anderson had two golden retrievers that died. They checked out breeders before settling on Brody, who had his own room. Brody was loving and affectionate, and prone to cancer, which left Chris and Dave dogless after a few short years.

“The Boys”, Nick and Russ, lived across the street. They loved poodles and cats. They raised chickens in a coop designed by an architect. Here are Sassy and Marcel celebrating Christmas on our front deck. Nick and Russ went to a New Year’s Eve party one year and came home to discover that Marcel wasn’t going to see in the New Year. Not the New Year that they had hoped.

Our friends Tom and Andrea loved Bono, a chocolate lab. Marrying late, Tom and Andrea found Bono the substitute for the children they would never have. Andrea’s phone opens with a photo of Bono, and it isn’t the time he jumped onto Tom and bit his testicles.

The rest of these images are of unknown dogs that I have come across on hikes, in stores, or on the streets, all doing what it is that dogs do.

My all-time favorite. I had to lie down on a dirty Berkeley sidewalk to meet Haru head on.

Cooling off dog. Or tired dog. Apple Store, Corte Madera

The affection of the homeless for their dogs.

A free ride for two dogs.

A street dog, getting ready to celebrate something.

Many of my Facebook friends are devoted to their dogs. Here are two.

Amy’s best buddies and Ann Reuve’s beloved Chief. I’m Facebook friends with Chief.

We had so many houseplants when we drove a U-Haul to California. I stuffed as many as I could in our refrigerator, knowing that I would have to leave them in Nevada if they were discovered at the Agricultural Inspection Station. Psychologists suggest that bringing the outdoors in connects us to the world of our ancestors, the great great great ones who lived outdoors, accompanied only by each other, nature, and animals. Insert “dogs” here. OK, insert dogs, cats, hamsters, iguanas, guinea pigs, etc., here, if you like.

What is it about dogs? The first ATM opened in 1969 in Rockville Center, New York, eliminating the need to visit a bank to conduct basic financial transactions. One fewer person to see, smile at, or to wish a good morning to. (I know I’m ending that sentence with a preposition. It’s ok.) With the pandemic, the last toll collectors disappeared, replaced by FasTrak lanes as a safety precaution. One more connection, however brief. gone. Going to the Post Office is so old school today. We bank electronically, pay bills online. We can order groceries online, too. They are left in lockers at the grocery store. We don’t have to see or talk to anyone when we pick up the Romaine. At Habit Hamburgers you no longer order from a person. A kiosk replaces the employee, accepts the credit card and sends the order directly to the kitchen, bypassing any human interaction. You enter your phone number and receive a text when the order is ready. We bought six boxes of Girl Scout Cookies without even seeing a single Girl Scout! Online ordering from a granddaughter who this year eschewed even a video seeking support, now reduced to a text. Or was it an email?

Janus, the ancient Roman god of duality, had two faces. The god of efficiency and accuracy is a plus; the absence of human connections is a minus. Psychologists acknowledge that companionship, especially among the elderly, is critical to feelings of well-being. And Amy’s best buddies, Ann’s blood donor doodle, Chief, and Ursula, my friend Gail’s boxer, fill that role.