home with Sheena. I leash trained her all the way there and back
when she was just a puppy. What a defiant little girl. She
absolutely REFUSED to relent to the leash. She had her own places
to explore and sniff. I literally had to drag her the whole time.
She looked so hilarious, she was a depiction of a lassoed calf.
She had the collar high around her neck, so her entire face was
reminiscent of a Shar pei dog. She was at the end of the lead,
tugging, bucking and hopping for all that she was worth. My
husband, then boyfriend, never had any idea that a dog had to be
leash trained. Boy, was he appalled when he saw that you did not
just snap a leash on a dog, and go about your merry way.
No matter where we lived,
we have always gone back to this old
park. We have so many memories
there, and we watched Sheena grow
into the beautiful girl
she was. It was not only the first park
she ever went to with us,
it was also the last. We brought her
there, the night that she
died, totally ignorant to the horror that
would come later. In hind
sight now, I am so glad that we did.
We had a special game there, that we would play with Sheena...
Frank and I would wait for
Sheena to be busy sniffing or whatever
else she liked to do. We
would make a mad dash to the swings, and
start swinging back and
forth on them. WELL... Sheena would bolt
for us, and
start her one warning bark
that she only ever used for us. It was
a bark like we had never
heard her make before. It was a very
loud, but high pitched,
raspy sort of bark. It was not the usual
low grumble, and menacing
style she normally used for fussing.
She did however, bark
like this on one other occasion which was
when we were
swimming with her in the
river last August of 1999.
I already do not like water,
as there are things below the
surface that one can not
always see. You know, sea monsters,
large fish and maybe the
occasional alligator that somebody
dumped out there.
current, neck deep in water,
straggling to stay standing on the
slippery rocks. Frank came
out and joined me. We thought this was
such a GREAT idea!!! Well...
there went her warning bark, the
first we ever heard of it.
She was fretting on the river's edge,
bouncing back and forth,
doing her special bark.
Well, we thought it was so
cute, and she did not find any humour
in the situation. She dove
into the water and starting swimming
towards us. Her head looked
so BIG bobbing atop of the water. Her
eyes looked so intense,
I was getting frightened. She went out
there and yanked me
out! You don't realize how
BIG a Rottie is until you are neck
deep in water, and have
this monstrous head coming towards with a
look on their face you have
never seen before. I guess she felt
that she had to "save" me,
as I was a frail human that should not
be in the river.
Frank found it so funny to
see our dog grab me by the pants, and
drag me out of the river.
He stayed out there, and mocked her
while she was seeing if
I was all right. She barked again, and
rail roaded her way into
the water, with a thunderous splash. She
did not grab Frank, but
swam out in front of him, and PUSHED him
with her huge front feet.
She bullied him back to shore, and he
had scratches all over him,
from her claws. I was sure glad she
grabbed me and plucked me
out, rather then receive her tough love
method.
Back to the swings...
We would be swinging, as
she stood there barking at us, in the
late hours of the night.
When her warning barks did nothing, she
would start to run in front
of us, while we were swinging. Of
course, Frank and I would
be slamming on the brakes, so we would
not crash into her. She
knew we would never hit her. She had
confidence that we go through
great measures into avoiding a
collision. MAYBE... we would
stop swinging all together.
Once I had to jump
off in mid swing, so not to hit her. When I
landed on the ground, she
came and sat on me. Frank had to come
and get her off
of me. I almost peed myself
laughing. Actually, she was so big
and heavy, she almost squeezed
the pee out of me. She weighed in
at 140 pounds, and knew
how to use it.
If that tactic didn't work
she went for the "tough love"
approach. She would literally
come and grab us right off the
swings. I would usually
chicken out by this point, and get off.
Frank however, would get
dragged, sometimes by the seat of his
pants right off the swings.
I would be off the swings, and I
could hear the screaming,
and laughing, ended by the sound of a
body hitting the gravel,
and getting dragged.
While she was busy with him,
I would sneak off and go climb one
of the huge trees close
by. When she safely had Frank grounded, I
would call for her, and
watch her go crazy, looking for me. She
would put that big old snout
to the ground and track me to the
tree top.. Well, I can say
that I know what a cat in a tree feels
like with a dog standing
below. I would be scared to come back
down, because once I was
within her reach, she would yank me
down. She also barked at
me, like I was a treed racoon. She was
always so gentle about it.
As gentle as a angry
Rottie can be, when their
mommies are putting themselves in
danger.
The day she died, Frank and
I went and sat on those swings,
laughing and crying for
her. We hoped that if we went there, we
might see her once again.
I guess we were hoping for a ghostly
tug to get us off. Of course
it never happened, and we have not
gone to those swings together
ever since. It is funny how
something that
gave so much joy and laughter,
can bring such sadness and grief
now.
When I go out with the other
dogs now, I often find myself
sitting on the swings, rocking
back and forth. I imagine myself
still having her with me.
When I open my eyes again, the other
dogs are sitting a safe
distance away, watching me. I can see in
Damian's eyes, that he knows
that I am remembering Sheena. She
always used to chase the
other dogs away from the swings, so she
could protect us. I often
wonder if she is watching us, and
barking from the Bridge.
I wish that she could come and play with
me, once in awhile. We all
miss her so...
This story was composed on February 26. 2000
This page was updated on July 29, 2000
