We love great stories about pets, especially when there are special meanings behind them. That is especially true when the story also involves people in our military. We came across this story of Tank the dog recently. It has since become one of our all-time favorites.
This story, and no doubt there are many more like this in one way or another, showcase love, loyalty, service, and companionship of both our beloved canine companions and our troops. Those men and women, who put their lives on the line so that others like us may live with the freedoms we, more often than not, take for granted.
They told Tom the big black Lab’s name was Reggie as he looked at him lying in his pen. Tom had only been in the area for six months, but everywhere he went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open.
But something was still missing as he attempted to settle into his new life, and he thought a dog couldn’t hurt.
At first, he thought the shelter had misjudged him in giving up 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 Tom didn’t really hit it off when they got home. They struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter said to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that Tom was trying to adjust, too.
For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls – he wouldn’t go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of Tom’s other unpacked boxes.
Here is a short video on puppyhood.
Tom tried the normal commands the shelter told him he knew, ones like “sit” and “stay” and “come” and “heel,” and Reggie would follow them – when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when his name was called. When he was asked again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.
The relationship just wasn’t working. Reggie chewed a couple of shoes and some unpacked boxes. Tom was a little too stern with him and he resented it. The friction got so bad that Tom couldn’t wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, he was in full-on search mode for his cell phone amid all of his unpacked stuff.
Finally, he found it, but before he could punch up the shelter’s number, he also found Reggie’s pad and other toys from the shelter. Tom tossed the pad in Reggie’s direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm that he’d shown since arriving at his new home.
But then Tom called, “Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I’ll give you a treat.” Instead, he sort of glanced in his direction – maybe “glared” is more accurate – and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down, with little to no interest.
Well, that’s not going to do it either, Tom thought. And he punched the shelter phone number.
But he hung up when he saw the sealed envelope. It had been completely forgotten and ignored until now. “Okay, Reggie,”
Tom said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
The note was addressed:
To Whoever 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.
My last visit with my dog was when I dropped him at the shelter. He knew something was different… I had packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time… it’s like he knew something was wrong. And something was wrong… which is why I had to try to make it right.
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 a part squirrel, the way he hordes 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 it, so be careful – really don’t do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.
Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I’ll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones – “sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.” He knows hand signals: “back” to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and “over” if you put your hand out right or left. “Shake” for shaking the water off, and “paw” for a high-five. He does “down” when he feels like lying down – I bet you could work on that with him some more.
He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.
I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of a hot dog.
Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.
He’s up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they’ll make sure to send you reminders for when he’s due. 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. I’ve never been married, so 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. This means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new.
And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you….
His name’s not Reggie.
Tank or Reggie?
