My 13-year love affair with a rambunctious lab
It is with deep sadness that I announce the passing of our beloved labrador Luke, aka Boobies, aka The Boobs, aka Poopie. Luke, Waldemar and I had spent a lovely few days in Palm Springs and had just arrived home Wednesday evening when Luke collapsed in our apartment. As we rushed him to the animal hospital, he died in Waldemar’s arms in the back seat of our car.
Two months ago, we discovered tumors on Luke’s spleen and liver, and the vet had warned us that the prognosis was dire. But, still, we had hoped to have more time with him and are devastated by the loss of our beautiful boy.
I adopted Luke in 2008 when he was one year old. The previous owners had decided to give him up because they considered him too rambunctious to live in a household with an elderly person. I soon discovered why. As I was walking Polo, as he was then called, around the park where we met, he was growling and lunging at every dog we passed and practically pulled my arm out of its socket. When we returned I told the woman facilitating the adoption that I couldn’t take him because I thought he was too wild for me to handle.
As I was walking back to my car a man approached me: “I’m sorry but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation,” he said. “I’m a dog trainer and I can tell you this is a good dog. You won’t regret taking him.”
Thus began a 13-year relationship that had many ups, downs and sideways. I should have known I was in for a bumpy ride when, on that first day, as I was sitting at an outdoor cafe having a coffee, Luke lunged at a passing dog and toppled over the table, spilling the coffee all over his AKC papers (yes, to my surprise, he was a purebred). Later that afternoon, when we returned to my apartment, Luke’s first order of business was to pee on my bed — marking his territory, I was told. When I went to take a shower, he was so scared of being left alone that he barged into the bathroom and jumped into the tub with me. For the next few days he refused to eat anything unless I fed him by hand (a reticence he more than made up for in the years ahead, when he exhibited the insatiable appetite characteristics of his breed).
Luke and me at Marshall’s Beach in San Francisco, 2008
There were, in fact, a number of times when I did regret adopting Luke. There was the time he bit an overly friendly puppy in Golden Gate Park, for instance, or the time he nipped a kid eating a hot dog in Dolores Park, or the countless times I had to buy sandwiches for people after Luke had snatched them out of their hands.
But we persevered. We visited numerous trainers and even an animal behaviorist. They all told me the same thing: Luke was basically a good dog but he hadn’t been properly socialized and trained as a puppy, so he needed a lot of discipline, patience and love. I tried my best to give him all three. And, in the past year or two, that patience and love finally paid off: Luke learned that not every other dog was a threat and he actually began meeting and playing with other pooches in the neighborhood.
Luke and I had many adventures together. We drove north to Portland and Seattle, south to Santa Barbara and Los Angeles, east to Lake Tahoe and Yosemite. We spent many joyful hours hiking and swimming at Fort Funston, Goat Rock Beach, Crissy Field, Tahoe and many other spots.
When Waldemar came into our lives six years ago, Luke gained another Daddy and Waldemar gained the furry companion he had always wanted (in addition to me). It was love at first sight. It was Waldemar who dubbed Luke “Boobies” because of all the fatty deposits on his body. It was Waldemar who held Luke Wednesday night as he crossed the rainbow bridge to the giant dog run in the sky. And it was Waldemar who cried like a baby when the vet confirmed our worst fears.
I have lost my best friend and the closest being I ever had to a son. I will miss his cold, wet nose nudging me awake in the morning. I will miss him barking loudly when I didn’t prepare his dinner fast enough. But, most of all, I will miss his big, beautiful spirit. Boobies, I will miss you forever.
