I’m being stalked by an adoring big beautiful black S.O.B.

Frank Touby —

Hello again, Tank fans.

The thing about retrievers is that they are needy. Fixated. Neurotic could be the word if you’re lacking in charitable thoughts because one of that variable breed is utterly focused on you.

That is happening to me with Tank, who has had a tough early life, I have learned. That’s in addition to his trauma over his latest owner’s death.

The Tank Report

Son of a bitch! He won’t let me out of his sight. He insists on being under foot if possible, but otherwise as physically close as he can get. It is beyond flattering. It’s like being stalked by a big, handsome, sleek black dog. I shift positions and he’s responding. I move to another room and he’s beside me. I get up, he gets up. I leave a room and he’s right beside me if he can manage that; otherwise he’s just behind me.

It’s like being stalked by a loving but desperately insecure suitor.

Tank’s first couple of years with a previous owner were spent being locked up in an apartment most of the time, says Kevin Scrimshaw, a close friend of Tank’s recently deceased second owner, Danny Murphy. That formed Tank’s need to attach himself to someone and avoid the insecure loneliness that being in solitary confinement would engender in any social being. And dogs are social beings. That’s what a pack animal is all about: a society.

Danny, as most of you know, was the charismatic Irishman who spent many days in front of the LCBO outlet selling street newspapers across from St. Lawrence Market, the world’s best, according to National Geographic magazine and many fervent Market fans.

It was certainly a step above panhandling because not only did a newspaper purchaser get something for the contribution (i.e., purchase), he or she also got to interact with that utterly charming guy and his also charming and adoring black Labrador retriever, Tank.

I know whereof I speak regarding retrievers because Tank isn’t the first one Paulette and I have been owned by.

There was Harry, a golden, who was previously owned by a woman in Oakville who couldn’t deal with him and somehow we got him. She had named him “Dory,” which is a ridiculous name for a big guy like he was, so we renamed him Harry, which sounded somewhat like Dory but was macho enough he didn’t have to be embarrassed when someone called his name.

Harry was a real “man” and he surely seemed to think of himself as Paulette’s husband. That was especially visible when I moved for a few months to Edmonton to work as deputy managing editor of Ted Byfield’s excellent weekly newsmagazine Alberta Report.

After a summer in Edmonchuk I realized I couldn’t really trade living in Toronto for a life out there and, in a used car I had purchased to get around in Edmonton, I drove back to Paulette and Harry in St. Lawrence Neighbourhood.

By then he was settled in as the man of the house—in his mind—and it was clear that he resented my reappearance, though he was too polite to challenge my position. But it was apparent that he really felt he had been displaced from his position of male primacy in our household.

Our next retriever was acquired with Harry still alive and we thought it would be good to have a companion who would keep him company when we were out of the home.

Her name was Gracie and she was a reddish golden retriever with a gentle, accommodating nature, fleet of foot and a proclivity when, in the dog park, to

lead the pack around chasing her until she wore out and ended up between my legs to protect her from the pursuing canine pack.

Both are long gone and Kevin, who has lived across from us for many years, knew them both.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He has a built-in sensor regarding dogs and a true soft spot for all of them.

When neighbours with dogs need someone to look after them by taking them for a walk, it will likely be with Kevin. He always has a herd of dog followers and a number of leashes dangle from around his neck so he can quickly hook one up.

All of this brings me back to Tank, our latest canine (and retriever) acquisition who is the most popular dog we have ever owned.

Daisy has many fans, as did Gracie and Harry, but Tank is a real celebrity thanks to Danny’s charismatic personality and ubiquitous presence in our neighbourhood.

We meet so many really friendly people in the dog park at Sherbourne and The Esplanade, all watching after their canine companions.

Tank is especially fond of chasing after the balls people throw for their own dogs and is still an insufferable bore when he actually acquires one.

Firstly, he isn’t the fastest four feet in any canine circle because he was overweight and under-exercised.

Secondly, he might be a Retriever, but he isn’t a retriever. In a phrase: Tank doesn’t retrieve.

He instead drops down with the ball, either seemingly chewing on it or dropping it on the ground and staring over it. He’ll let a person remove the ball, but not another dog. At least not at first. Any dog can take the ball from him in a few more moments when he loses the sense of magic around the whole exercise and walks away.

Tank needs to learn to retrieve. As you can see from the photo, he lies with his feet back in an awkward position that he clearly adopted being a companion to Danny on the sidewalk.

He spent many hours a day just lying there and, though Danny did take him for walks, it just wasn’t nearly enough to help with Tank’s musculature and his walking.

He has, thanks to our keeping him from junk food, started to firm up. But there is a lot of work to be done to tighten him up within his skin.

He’s not really that big an eater from his food bowl and doesn’t challenge Daisy for food from her bowl.

But he was a nosher. People would toss him tidbits and he’d catch them. He can catch a pebble of kibble tossed from 10 feet away, but he can’t (or won’t) catch a ball. (Maybe he’d catch a ball of hamburger, but that would be counterproductive.)

The re-education of Tank continues. I’ll keep you advised.

But before I go, if any of you are accomplished at crowd funding, there is a mission to be done.

Tank’s deceased former owner was buried recently and is without a headstone. Kevin would like to help provide one and if you are willing to post a crowd-funding effort to buy a headstone for Danny Murphy, I’m sure there are enough of Danny’s (and Tank’s) friends who would chip in to make sure the final resting place for a well-known and beloved neighbourhood character is properly marked.

Just email me at deareditor@thebulletin.ca with the word Tank in the subject line and I’ll put you in contact with the right information.