Inside my shoes: The General completes mission with Malgesini Pack

Published 5:00 am Tuesday, March 26, 2024

The most heartbreaking part of dog ownership is they don’t live long enough. My husband and I recently helped usher the General, my nearly 12-year-old German shepherd, across the Rainbow Bridge.

The third dog we adopted from Geyer German Shepherds, the General was incredibly smart. He also was a bit stubborn and quirky.

Initially, he was not fond of the leash. During backyard training sessions, he would lie on the ground like a sack of potatoes while I practically drug him. Eventually accepting the reality of the leash, the General was rewarded with more sights and smells during neighborhood walks.

I also taught him to sit when I stopped walking. He learned this well — maybe too well. When John was recovering from foot surgery, he walked quite slowly. Ambulating at a snail’s pace, the General thought papa was stopping and kept sitting down every few feet.

Affectionately referred to as “my sweet boy,” our canine kid didn’t particularly care for those outside the Malgesini Pack. From a distance, people could witness his gleeful squeals of excitement when swimming in the river or chasing birds on the hospital grounds — but get too close and he let them know.

He started out with what I called his “move along there’s nothing to see hear” warning. If the person didn’t heed the message, he went into a full-bore barking.

I’ll never forget when this scenario played out while sitting at a red light. When a passenger in the car next to me made fun of the General’s “wimpy warning,” it was three… two… one — they couldn’t roll the window up fast enough when he exploded into his big dog bark.

Although he became a “treat ho” in his later years, the General used to scrutinize anything we gave him. After reluctantly taking a new treat, he would drop it and sniff it before finally deciding to eat it. However, once he recognized a preferred treat, he immediately devoured it.

When first introduced to hard-boiled eggs, the General went through his whole rigamarole but quickly determined that he really liked them. He was even a bit obsessive-compulsive — savoring the yolk.

One morning, John left a note letting me know that two eggs were in the refrigerator for the dogs. However, I have packaging issues — opening food jars, taking off Tupperware lids and evidently, removing the shell from hard-boiled eggs.

In the process, I pulled off so much of the egg white that part of the yolk was showing. The General didn’t recognize the mutilated egg.

He hesitated and then immediately dropped it — causing the yolk to go rolling across the floor. Suddenly, he realized what it was and pounced on it before his brother got it.

As a pup, the General never had an “accident” in the house. I soon learned that he was quite particular about where he did his business — during a trip to Klamath Falls, he didn’t do a “duty” for nearly 40 hours.

I became obsessed — finding all kinds of great spots for him. Along the lines of you can take a horse to water — he was having none of it.

Speaking of water, he was picky about what he drank out of. He would jump over a perfectly good bowl of water while sitting on the daybed and trot downstairs to drink. I also caught him with his snout in my glass, lapping up my Pepsi.

My friends, who know that I don’t share my beverages, were surprised that I still drank from the glass. “He’s family,” I told them. However, I did start using a Hydro Flask after that.

The General loved lounging on the daybed with me in the evenings. While his Yoda-sized ears often blocked part of the screen, I would give anything for another night with only a partial view of the boob tube.

Although I’m grieving the loss of our canine kid, the General left paw prints on my heart.