 |
| Ike... 9/1998 - 9/2011 |
Our BabyGrands do not remember a time without Ike, who shared our world for an amazing thirteen years. This is a celebration of his feisty and fun life. It is a happy post, to be enjoyed and then saved for all posterity, when Volume 3 of CMI goes to print. Ike was clearly inspiring, in the love he gave so freely and the sheer joy he found so easily, usually by way of mischief.
Boys will be boys!
Three years after Sly's death, we found Ike. When Samson's breeder advertised a new litter, who could resist? We went to "look"... uh-huh. We came home with Sam's blood brother... the boy in the litter who was constantly at the fence, investigating us and jumping all over the place. Thus began The Great Escape. Yep; Ike was undeniably the best canine escape artist, ever.
If he couldn't go over a fence, he'd dig his way under it. Many cases in point exist around the perimeter of our barrier, where Joe placed mini boulders, one at a time, as Ike found each path to freedom. You see, Airedale Terriers are hunters. Bambi and his buddies were always hanging out on the other side. Such temptation! There's nothing like a good chase. Till his dying day, when he could barely walk, he'd check the gates. If we'd inadvertently left one open, he was gone... hobbling to the neighbor's house and beyond.
One night, Joe had left to take Mom home, when I went to let Ike in... just in time to witness his leap over the boundary. Within seconds, I heard a screech and then an awful smell descended upon the neighborhood.
You've got it. He'd been sprayed by a skunk.
You've got it. He'd been sprayed by a skunk.
The most comical of his idiosyncrasies came by way of chew bones. If we were away for a few hours, they'd disappear. So, do you think he devoured them? Nope. He'd hidden them, in pristine condition. At some point, we'd find them... under a bed or couch pillow or in some remote corner. Thing is, nothing... and I mean nothing... was disturbed. Bedding arrangements would be as I'd fussily left them, and the discovery of a treasure would always be a surprise... like when we'd turn on our tummies and slide a hand under our pillows, at night. Magical! We never witnessed this behavior, as it always occurred when we were out of the house.
Have I mentioned that Ike liked furniture? After he spun and spun and dug and dug on a newly upholstered set of chairs, we were frantic to keep him off of his adopted lounges. Bad doggie. I'd read that if you snap a mousetrap near a dog, he'll never go near the monstrous noisemaker again. For many years, it looked as though we had a major rodent problem, here at 26 Stacey. But not to worry, 'cause Chloe just told me that "...G-d loves you even when you're being bad." No love lost.
Not a great leash-walker, good old Ike had a habit of pulling. What to do? Take obedience lessons, of course. The instructor recognized his stubbornness and demanded that I put a prong collar on him, for future lessons. When I refused, Ike and I were kicked out of college. :-)
When Ike was eight years old, Mambo came into our lives. He was awesome in his new role of Big Brother, and they became very good buddies.
We knew he'd tell us when he couldn't hang in, any longer; and he did.
His Fan Club of relatives, friends, our Grands and Mom will miss him terribly, though we'll continue to chuckle fondly at the thought of a life well lived.
We love you, Little Buddy. Woof.
♥
