Yogi's Wonderful Life

Schipperkes are a small dog. So it is a mystery how their leaving can drive such a huge hole through your heart.

Originating in Belgium, Schipperkes (skipper-kee) were originally bred in the sixteenth century, purportedly to provide security and discourage rodents on the many prevalent canal barges. They are boisterous and loyal, fearless and devoted, energetic and playful. They love their adopted families. They like the water, and to hike and to run. A rugged, hearty 15-20 pound package of explosive life.

A friend had had one, and we were captivated, but didn’t seriously entertain the notion of dog ownership at the time. Then our long time cat companion perished, leaving us in a funk. In search of a replacement kitten, calls to several shelters were unfruitful. So we visited a pet store in East Providence and struck pay dirt – a black and white tuxedo kitty reminiscent of our departed Spencer. Only one problem – his white littermate held him in a bear hug and wouldn’t let go. A simple solution – we ended up with two kitties.

But just before leaving, we turned and noticed a puppy. About eight weeks old, adorable, pitch black – it was a Schipperke, yipping for our attention. It was love at first sight. Looking like a tiny bear cub, it was an easy conclusion to name him Yogi. Our home quickly became a beehive of feline and canine activity.

It was a neighborhood spectacle as our three charges grew up together. When taking Yogi for a walk, his two kitty brothers would often parade behind to the considerable amusement of the neighbors.

Yogi quickly excelled in our passion for sailing. Wearing his own life jacket, he soon learned to ride the rails as white foam streaked by. His balance was impeccable. The boat was his second home, and when we stayed overnight, he would curl up and nap contentedly. He was a true sailor.

Schipperkes are long lived, typically 13-15 years. It was not unexpected, then, that Yogi outlived his kitty brothers. We settled into a long routine of comfortable existence, just the three of us. Long hikes in the Locust Valley woods, sailing on the weekends, trips to family reunions in Pennsylvania. Yogi was a constant companion. Vigorous into his teens, he didn’t start to slow down even a bit till he reached fourteen.

Very affectionate, we would often find him backing in between our feet and settling in while we sat and read or watched TV. But we could always get him aroused by the offer of dog biscuits, which were somehow like canine cocaine to him.

Slowly, as he turned fifteen, the long walks became a bit shorter, somewhat slower. But the sweet personality persisted, the joy of life remained, playing with his toys and begging for “cookies.”

Then, at sixteen, he began a more pronounced decline, sleeping most of the day away. Walks were still enjoyable, sniffing the smells of other dogs (we thought of this as him reading a doggy newspaper), but we no longer ventured into the woods. He could no longer negotiate stairs, so we carried him outside to do his business. We began to mentally prepare ourselves.

His typical strong appetite declined; he became quite picky. But we experimented and found some foods that he would eat.  Finally, within six weeks of his seventeenth birthday, a rapid change. He stopped eating and drinking, had trouble walking, seemed to be in a daze.

And then the signs of pain – whimpering, tense muscles. Was it time to help ease him out of this life which was no longer pleasant for him? Were we selfish in hanging on, hoping that it was transient and that he might improve?

But finally, we knew. It was time to let him go.

Yogi was our millennial dog, born at the turn of the century, and was a wonderful part of our lives for nearly seventeen years. The house is silent without him. No tinkling of dog tags on his collar. No clicking of toenails on the tile floor. No warm greeting at the door. It is an empty feeling. But at the same time, floods of warm memories and giving of thanks for him having somehow chosen us as his parents.

After some time to grieve, and to honor his memory, it is quite likely that another Schipperke pup will take up residence with us. The huge emptiness will recede, and a new love will ignite. That’s life with these wonderful little creatures, where the pain of their passing is more than compensated by the joy of their companionship.

Thank you Yogi. Your life was a blessing.