I love dogs. I made a career out of that love and train them to make a living. I can’t say that one of my favorite parts isn’t being able to work with breeds I don’t own. Having said that I always get excited when I’m brought a Labrador Retriever. There is a reason they are one of America’s favorite dogs in registration numbers with the AKC. Much like several other breeds there is a split within Labradors where you’ve got your stockier show style “English” or “Bench” Lab and then your field bred “American” Labs. They tend to have smaller heads and lighter frames and a higher energy level. Across the board they mature slowly, have mouths that they like to stuff with whatever can fit, no matter if it happens to be edible or not, and often act like puppies until they are double digit ages. Despite all that Labs are great dogs and one that I recommend often to people that ask me about breeds that are good with children and are a larger size. In fact, unless you cannot handle dog hair, I recommend a Lab over most any breed to have around children. Should you want to avoid hair I will suggest a Standard Poodle.
My love of the breed started with the dog that taught me to love dogs. A black Lab mix named Shadow that came from my father’s purebred black Lab, Shine. I was in my twenties before I discovered that Shadow wasn’t a purebred Labrador though she looked just like one. It was also about that time that I discovered the photo of a black Lab we had hanging in our house with a duck in its mouth wasn’t Shadow like I simply assumed growing up. When I was little, I was terrified of dogs according to my parents. I don’t remember this at all. I certainly don’t remember being afraid of Shadow. Something about her was clearly different than other dogs I met before. True to the 90’s she roamed the neighborhood and followed us everywhere. Her role as protector was cemented when she chased off a pair of rottweilers that lived on the hill behind our house when they chased us through the woods and back to our front porch. She was a phenomenal dog and she died when I was thirteen at the age of twelve.
A few years later we gained a chocolate Lab named Claire. She got parvo as a puppy and even though she survived, the ordeal took the puppy out of her. She went to live with a family friend eventually and to date is only the second dog that we’ve owned that didn’t stay with us until they died since I’ve been alive.
The last Lab is the one about whom this post is particularly about because today we said goodbye to her. Reese didn’t belong to me. She was my mom’s. That in itself was a mere formality. Reese thought I was hers from the moment we brought her home. Part of that might have been because she slept in my bedroom, although we had other dogs that did so that clearly weren’t mine and knew as much. Still, she made sure I knew that I belonged to her. Once she was house trained her favorite place to sleep was across my chest. She was not a small dog. Reese was half English and half American Lab with a thick head and thick body just taller than your average English Lab. She weighed a fair amount so it wasn’t a position that I could ignore. It was her way of keeping the other dogs away from me although she was the only dog that slept in my room for the first two years of her life.
Though she was purchased for my mom I chose her from her litter. I wanted to make a therapy dog out of her. The dog I chose wasn’t the dog we brought home. I know enough about dogs to know that personalities can change but hers was a drastic change that was a quick tell we had been duped. It didn’t change anything except she didn’t become a therapy dog. She was weirdly wary of men though she never bit anyone she would growl at them and then roll over for belly rubs like she hadn’t just growled. In true Lab fashion she was energetic and loved attention. One of her nicknames was Kangaroo dog. I train dogs for a living. Jumping is one of the most common problems I address. Never in her life did that dog stop jumping which might surprise people. Hers wasn’t a simple put her paws on you jump. Reese’s preferred jump style was to jump up and down like she was a kangaroo only occasionally touching you but making sure that you saw her. She was hard to miss because it was nothing for her to reach heights of almost six feet. It is a small wonder she never vaulted herself over the porch railings to greet people.
She was the second dog I trained to search for human scent. In fact, she learned to find people before she learned to lay down. That crazy dog wouldn’t get in a down position for anything on command for the longest time. Her search style like the rest of her behavior was all go. Takoda was a methodical searcher. Reese was a chocolate fur covered missile when released and she didn’t let up. I’d have been shocked if she was a slow searcher because she was never a slow dog. There was discussion of teaching her to duck hunt at one point. The problems with that were none of us had duck hunted and Reese was terrified of loud noises. I could play ball with her, and she would ignore gunshots just fine no matter how loud. I never played ball in a storm or during fireworks and those would send her into a quivering mess that often saw her taking shelter behind the A/C unit if she hadn’t been brought inside beforehand. We built a cover that she managed to break through multiple times to get into when storms hit, or fireworks went off.
When I decided I wanted to teach her to shed hunt my father said no and instead of shed hunting with her, Pearl came home as a blood tracking dog. So much to my disappointment my big dreams for the chocolate dog were relegated to simply having a pet. Fun fact I’m not much of a pet dog guy. I like to do things with my dogs. I’m not the get a dog to lay around kind of person. I’m happiest when my dogs have a clear and defined purpose that they enjoy, and I can do along with them. There is a reason my dogs keep the farm clear of vermin, herd, and do scent work and not just lay around the house.
I’m certainly going to miss that attention hog. She was truly happiest when she was getting petted or playing ball. Her life might not have panned out how I had envisioned it when we brought her home at eight weeks old, but I wouldn’t change a thing. All of my dogs have shaped me in one way or another. I’ve learned things, learned to do things, and met people because of them. She taught me that dogs have a mind of their own and when it comes to choosing their people you don’t have a say in it at all. I call her the dog that wasn’t mine but in truth she was, while she wasn’t purchased for me, she chose me, and when it comes to dogs there is no higher honor than that.
Labrador Retriever’s are one of the best breeds that man created. There’s only been a few years of my thirty-four years of life that we’ve not had one. Someday down the road another will join the Shire, this one black, hopefully a half English and half American bred. The name has been jotted down for a few years at this point. Though I don’t know where it will come from, I know that it has a legacy to step into and help grow. One that was started by a dog that taught me to love dogs and continued by a chocolate dog that taught me that not much couldn’t be solved by fetch and personal attention.
Good girl, Reese. Thanks for choosing me.
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