Tim and his Happy

My pets, occasionally you will have to indulge Dog Lady as I take a brief break from the usual column format of questions and astute answers to tell a “my dog” story or two. Dog Lady is forever fascinated with tales of tails from dog keepers -- how they met their pets and how the cherished critters changed their lives.

Take Tim and his Happy. Tim is a lobsterman whom Dog Lady met during a recent Maine vacation. I would love to tell you exactly where I met Tim and Happy but let’s just say that Dog Lady likes to keep her little corner of Downeast paradise a secret known only to herself and her dog. Anyway, Tim is listed in the phone book in this quaint town I’ve adopted as my home away from home. Happy, Tim’s Golden Retriever, is listed too. Putting Happy’s name in the phonebook is just one example of how much Tim considers Happy an important part of his life.

Tim has been married and divorced twice. He has three grown children and grandchildren. He spent 35 years at sea as a merchant seaman in the belly of vessels, toiling as a master mechanic. Tim is now 71. He works part-time as a lobsterman, but his full-time labor of love is keeping Happy happy.

Happy came into Tim’s life unexpectedly, as these miracles often occur. He never had considered having a dog, figuring the commitment would tie him down. “I thought it would be a restriction on my life,’’ he says.

One fateful day, a fellow lobsterman invited Tim back to the house to see a new litter of puppies. Tim went along mostly for the camaraderie. However, when he saw the puppies, he was charmed, especially by one of the pups who kept jumping up on him. “I decided to take her on the spur of the moment,” he says. “She picked me out. When a puppy chooses you, that’s when you really know.”

A couple of days later, he brought the puppy to the veterinarian for a checkup and the vet advised him: “Tim, don’t spoil that dog.” Tim was amused: “I never had a thought about spoiling a dog.” This from a man who freely admits he now buys filet mignon on sale at the supermarket and always gets enough for two.

He didn’t name his dog for a few weeks. One day, it struck him simply that the puppy was a furry bundle of joy. “She was always happy,’’ Tim says. “So I called her ‘Happy.’ She lives up to her name completely.”

Happy is now seven years old. “The years go by too quickly,” says Tim wistfully. The dog travels with Tim everywhere, riding in the passenger seat of his pickup truck, and settling in the bow of Tim’s lobster boat. “She stays up forward because the back half is filled with ropes and equipment. It’s just like she knows just what to do.”

Around the dock, Happy is a fixture. “She’s trained the whole fleet,” says Tim proudly. The dog has particularly trained the other lobstermen to hold on to their gloves, delicacies that Happy is fond of pilfering. “There’s one guy who’s gruff and growls a lot,” says Tim, “and I tease him ‘John, why don’t you buy a decent pair of gloves. Happy hasn’t had a good glove in awhile.’ ”

Recently, Happy developed a limp, probably caused by hip dysplasia, a condition that can afflict large breed dogs like Retrievers. Obviously, Tim is more pained than Happy. “It kind of terrified me. But I give her glucosamine (a nutritional supplement) and I rub her leg. It doesn’t seem to slow her down.” A friend provided comfort by telling Tim that Happy has lived to the hilt -- no matter what happens.

Tim has made arrangements with his daughter to take care of Happy in case he dies before his pet. If the dog goes first, he will save her ashes. He has written into his will that he wants to be cremated and his ashes co-mingled with Happy’s. The remains of the lobsterman and his dog will be scattered in the Casco Bay cove they both love.

A morbid thought may occasionally rumble across Tim’s mind, but not Happy’s. “Everyday is a great day for Happy. Rain, snow, sleet -- she loves it all,” Tim says. “She helps me tremendously. For Happy, there is nothing wrong with anything.

“It’s been a love affair from the start.”

Posted by Dog Lady at February 15, 2003 12:00 PM