Skip to comments.TANK: A DOG STORY AND A LITTLE MORE (You will cry or you are made of stone)
Posted on 04/27/2012 12:03:38 AM PDT by woofie
They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.
But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.
See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.
I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice." ____________ _________ _________ _________
To Whomever Gets My Dog:
Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.
So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.
First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after them, so be careful. Don't do it by any roads.
Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones ---"sit," "stay," "come," "heel."
He knows hand signals, too: He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.
Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.
He's up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.
Finally, give him some time. It's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.
And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you...His name's not Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this ... well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is "Tank." Because, that is what I drive.
I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with .. and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter ... in the "event" ... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.
Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.
If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.
All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.
Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.
Paul Mallory ____________ _________ _________ _______
I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.
I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.
"Hey, Tank," I said quietly.
The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.
He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months. "Tank," I whispered.
His tail swished.
I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.
"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek.
"So whatdaya say we play some ball?" His ears perked again.
"Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?"
Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.
SECOND This came from Facebook
I am not into facebook I did not research to check if it is true or not ....
If anyone needs more info to check it out send me a freep mail and I will send a link to where I got it. You can then chase it down
I think its true and it wont take much to find out if it is. If its not..... well, so be it
THIRD I am a sucker for dogs of all kinds and dog stories of all kinds and my moniker is a reference to a dog I knew a long long time ago.
Man, when it rips out of you, that ol’ heart makes a hell of a mess.
Just tell me this-the dog ends up alive and happy-and I’ll read the story.
The dog and his new owner is happy, alive and well in the story ....so if that is a concern.... you can read the story
Wow.. I took up your challenge..
and I lost.. :’(
The story is fictional, but it is a good story.
Well, it’s 12:29am as I type this after reading the story. Tears streaming down. So glad it worked out for Tank.
Every time i read a good dog story i look at my dog to reaffirm how happy he is............and how happy i am.:)
you get 3 balls though
Yay! going to read-thank you!
Oh man im too choked up to even hardly think words-i love dogs, i love our troops, and to see that they love each other just makes it perfect! This is just how a dog and their person SHOULD feel about each other! I pray for all the troops-and all their loyal canine friends, more loyal than most men could ever conceive of being-to be safe, to be together, to have long happy lives-hopefully together unless God has better plans for either-
God made dogs so sweet and loyal and with such friendly smiles on their faces becaue He knew we were right for each other as long as we treat each other well and with respect all the way to the end.
Dogs! I love every scroungy mangy mutt one of ‘em!
What a perfect master to have loved his dog to have planned for his peace of mind anid happiness that way, to encourage the new owner to appreciate the good things in Tank!
glad you liked it..... I agree
Thank YOU for posting, and for not being scornful of my need for a warning-i just really can’t take the sad ones-can’t understand how anyone could hurt a dog, can hardly bear to know if it happend while saving their people! They sometimes pay the ultimate for their love and loyalty to us, i know it’s necessary but it’s too bad we couldn’t just love them and leave them out of our riskier endeavors-no slams at the people who work with them to save people’s lives-i just wish there was another way!
Boy, are you *ever* gonna hate me this time.
Damn you both.
(Of course, I mean that in the nicest, most loving way possible.)
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