Martley: Short tales tell of life with Bear

 

By Ed Martley, Journal Copy Editors

Most dogs that don't try to bite you are quite likeable. And a canine likability champion, a magic dog who attracted people like a magnet attracts iron filings, was a big red Doberman by the name of Bear.

At 90 pounds, he was a massive brute to be sure, with bulging muscles, a head wider than the normal Dobie, beady, close-set eyes, and a snoot so huge it looked like somebody had stuck a loaf of bread on his face.

Bear was the most cheerful of creatures; he would sit in front of you, eyes crackling with a goofy enthusiasm, and his stubby tail wagging madly: "Let's go boss, let's go."

In spite of his fearsome appearance, Bear was, usually, a gentle, loving beast. He liked most other dogs and didn't work too hard at trying to kill the cats. He was delighted to play with little kids and was cordial to our guests, who always fell instantly in love with him.

The only problem we found with Bear was his mysterious detestation of large, gray dogs. One day at the dog park, Bear spied a big Weimaraner about 100 yards away and took off like a shot from a cannon. He hit the poor gray dog at full tilt, sent it rolling and was on it like a leopard. We got the brawl stopped before there were any injuries, although the Weimaraner's owner was upset. Perhaps furious would be a better word. We later heard reports of similar incidents with Bear and big gray dogs. Piques one's curiosity, eh?

Suzanne and I are occasional volunteers for Doberman Rescue of Nebraska. We took Bear from an owner who could no longer care for him and prepared the big guy to enter the group's placement program (we already had three dogs, or we would have kept him). After a long stay with us, he did enter the system and became the great love of a young woman in Omaha, Neb. - Sarah White. And Dobies being among the most affectionate of breeds (there is a reason they call them Velcro dogs), Bear loved her right back, and then some.

He was jealous of men who would visit Sarah. When a visitor sat on the couch, Bear sat beside him and, aiming down that remarkable snoot, lasered the visitor with that spooky "Doberman stare." Those who fainted or ran screaming out the door probably would not be invited back. Those who took the "inspection" in stride soon became good friends of the big dog. And perhaps of Sarah, too, although she undoubtedly had her own criteria.

Bear didn't like it when Sarah had to go to work and often would steal her purse and hide it in an effort to make her stay home.

One night after returning home from a movie, Sarah clicked on the light and saw that a kitchen window was smashed. It was obvious what happened. A burglar broke the window and was partially through it when Bear entered the room. The intruder retreated hastily, leaving blood and gobbets of flesh on the shards of shattered glass.

One day in the fall of 2005, those of us who loved this wonderful dog got some bad news. Bear suffered a heart attack and died in Sarah's arms. There were many tears over many miles.

Ed Martley, proprietor of Top Dog Publishing Co., in Rapid City, is a part-time copy editor for the Rapid City Journal.

Contact Doberman Rescue of Nebraska at www.doberescue-ne.org/

 

This article originally printed in the Rapid City Journal