My husband and I met our Doberman Pinscher, Beaumont, and 3 of his
littermates on a sunny day in June 2003. My first impression was that
he had an unexpectedly calm demeanor. As we pet his siblings, he sat
patiently, looking up at us with those soulful eyes. He might as well
have opened his mouth and said aloud, "Go on, check out the others. You
KNOW I'm the one." Clearly, he picked us.
With a long history of dogs in my past, I thought I knew what to expect
from a puppy.
Surprise! I had no idea it could be easy. First, Beaumont
practically house broke himself. Any accidents after the first 3 days
could be squarely blamed on we humans not watching for his march to the
I'd kept my old furniture, gnawed and damaged by pups before him,
EXPECTING to see puppy collateral damage. Surprise! There wasn't any. He
preferred to chew only on dog toys, if chewing was really necessary.
Speaking of toys ... We had an arsenal of "safe" toys, Nylabones, Nyla-rings,
etc. He would look at the toy that we played with in front of him,
maybe sniff it, then come up close with the questioning look, "Nice, but
what are WE going to do..."
All Beaumont ever wanted was to be social - and he was. We'd take him
everywhere knowing that the worst thing he would do was lay a wet kiss
on someone. He was the children's entertainment at our yard parties. He
didn't jump on others, he knew to be tolerant with the kids and puppies
who would pull his ears, grab at his wiggley tail, and examine him nose
to tail. Babies would hand feed Beaumont his kibble out of his bowl!
He was the light of many a vet tech, summed up by one who said, "You can
just do anything to Dobes. They're the best."
Still, for all his goodness, he knew innately, when to be on the job.
We were actually asking our vet if it was possible that our dog didn't
know how to growl, because we had never heard a growl out of him his
entire life. Would he do anything if someone broke in? Finally, a man
we know came over when we were not at home and opened our fence to
borrow a tool from the yard. He reported that Beaumont was "a different
dog" when we weren't home. Beaumont had stood inside our patio slider,
barking and snarling, fangs beared. Something we still struggle
People who had previously feared black dogs, or big dogs, or
specifically Dobies, were won over, one at a time, by Beaumont. Dogs
who had not played well with others were playing with him gleefully as
the owners looked on, jaws dropped. There could be no better ambassador
for his breed, or for canines in general. Those people who walked to the
other side of the street out of fear, are those who lost out. With
visitors into our home, Beaumont would gaze lovingly and MAKE them adore
him. One common statement resounded from virtually every one: "There
is something special about Beaumont."
Still, he saved the best love for us. He knew we were his pack leaders
and he only wanted to please us. We did not have children, we had
Beaumont. We focused on him in our home. He made our lives complete.
He was therapy after a near death trauma that left me with PTSD. He
was security when I walked out into the world, or if I was home
alone. When I travelled away, he was my husband's "best pal". Beaumont
was a perfect physical therapy partner the last two weeks of his life
when I taught him to run on lead next to my bicycle. I proudly announced
to whomever would listen that he learned this in two short sessions.
I declared it was time to go further with obedience and hopefully
agility after that. There was just no limit to Beaumont's talent,
intelligence and his affection ... and my dreams for all of us together.
Now, just before he would see his fifth birthday, Beaumont unexpectedly
died after complications from surgeries for a stomach obstruction. He
was moved to NorthWest Veterinary Specialists, where he had every
medical technological advantage available to him. He fought a brave
fight, our young, big, strong boy. We told him all we needed him to
hear and he succumbed to sepsis at 10:30pm March 4th, 2008. The
beautiful dream and the privelege of knowing Beaumont has ended
abruptly. Even as a writer, I can not find words for the heartache that
has followed. The chorus of a song by Martina McBride comes to mind:
"Where I used to have a heart, feels like a mile wide ditch,
Got a hole inside, the doctor just can't stitch.
Gone without a trace, you left a hallow place
There's not a stone to mark, where I used to have a heart...."
Every night, as you tucked into your bed, covered in your little 101
Dalmatian blankie, I whispered to you, "You're the best dog mommy has
ever known." And I kissed your velvety muzzle. And I meant it every
time. Rest in Peace our beautiful Beaumont. We'll love you 'til the end
Richard and Lisa C.