My Buddy Hemingway

 My Buddy

Hemingway 

Several years ago Lori and I stopped at Jay’s Sporting Goods in Clare, Michigan, for a visit. Some people in the parking lot had Chesapeake Bay Retrievers. We had an older Chocolate Lab and a younger Chocolate Lab at the time. We agreed that someday we might consider getting a "Chessie." 

Jump ahead 10 years, and a couple of labs fewer. We still had one, actually the son of the aforementioned younger one. But he was lonely and it was time to consider a new puppy. We added our first Chessie, Coke–o, to the family. When the Black Labrador Retriever, Higginson, passed away, the brown Chessie was lonely. You could tell. She needed a companion, so we brought aboard another little chocolate–colored Chessie, a skittish, silly little dude. He didn’t want to join us; in fact, he kept hiding under the stairs and running away when we went to pick him up. But we decided that Hemingway would be our dog. He was just the kind of pup that could be trained and become a therapy dog. 

Hemingway, Lori, and I went to training in Traverse City to learn the basics, and he was a star in his class. He was a loyal, people pleaser. And everyone loved him. And he loved everyone. He then went to extensive training, by himself, to help prepare him to pass the “therapy dog” test eventually. He did well. He did internships in a few different schools, and the kids loved him. He loved the kids, too. He could turn a kid’s bad day good in a few minutes. We thought he would become a super therapy dog. He was actually featured in a northern Michigan newspaper, too. 

Hemingway was a socialized superhero of a dog. He went everywhere and did everything with us. Of course, he never sniffed a ball that he didn’t want to chase or smelled any water he didn’t want to go flying into. He loved chasing any kind of ball and diving into any water. He absolutely loved jumping 10 feet into the middle of the Sturgeon River and riding the current a couple hundred yards. 

One time, when he was a pup, he went riding carelessly and quickly down the river when I had just returned home from work. He was riding out of control and I was actually worried. I went running through the overgrowth and trees to see where the heck he was. He looked like he was bobbing and barely hanging on stuck in some branches and muck, so I took off my shoes, put my wallet in my shoes, and jumped into the river to rescue the puppy. It was deep, cold water with a pretty good current. Hemi looked like he was stuck in some brush or something. When I jumped into the water, he looked at me,  shrugged his shoulders, and swam to the edge of the river and jumped out. It was like he said, “I thought we were playing.” After that, I never worried about him and water. 

At home in Lakeview, he would watch for an opportunity when the door would be left open “just enough” and he would fly out the door, down the driveway, and across the road into the lake  — all in like five seconds. He would run so fast and jump so violently into the lake. And he loved it. Every single time. He would swim out into the lake as far as he dared and swim around in circles, yapping as loudly as he could. It was his lake and he could do whatever he wanted to in it. 

Now, speaking of his lake, if we were to walk down to the boat and leave him on the deck, look out. He would howl like a wolf so loud. He would tilt his neck toward the sky and let out the most incredible howl. If it were interpreted, it would be something like, “Hey you guys! I’m part of your family and you forgot about me. I’m the one who lovesssss the water!” And he would continue. And continue. As silly as it was, it was pretty cool. I will miss the howl. 

We tried to teach him to be an Ultimate Air Dog in Howard City one time. He jumped really well, nearly 16 feet. However, once he was in the water, that’s where he wanted to stay. He had no interest in getting out. We really thought he could be a champion, but the little piece about getting out of the water was an important factor. I don’t know if we didn’t have the patience for the training, or if he didn’t, but we put that idea back on the shelf!  

Hemingway was loyal. He would get so excited when his people would get home. I mean he would jump on an end table, or jump high up on the door, or whatever he needed to do to let you know he was glad you were home. Further, he would grab toys and set them on you when you were on the couch, and then remind you — loudly — that it was okay to throw the toy for him. And he would return it. Twenty times. Maybe more. He loved to walk. Loved to swim. 

We used to walk him for miles on the trails near our house in Lakeview. That is until one time when he became lethargic and started getting sick. After a visit to a local vet, a trip to the emergency vet in Grand Rapids, and other assorted attempts, we ended up back up north with the vet who knew him so well. He ended up with emergency surgery and the veterinarian removed a corn cob from his intestines. He recovered and all was well again. If Hemi did one thing wrong, it was that he loved to chew things, sometimes chewing them into the sizes that would maybe be bad for kids — and since he was a kid himself, that was sometimes bad. We tried to monitor such behavior. 

He was going to be a therapy dog and was doing really well until one day during the summer a couple years ago. Lori and he had just gotten out of the car to go into a place she was volunteering as a counselor, and on the way inside, Lori fell. A guy tried to help her and Hemi showed his teeth and growled. This wasn’t his normal Chessie roo, this was a flatout growl. Remember, he’s a loyal dog. After that incident, Hemi became a bit of a grump around other people and we decided to end his therapy days because we worried about him showing his teeth and growling again, or worse. 

That’s about the time we stopped taking him everywhere we went. He was still a trusty companion, but just the same, we were never sure. He was a great companion, great friend. They say that dogs are a man’s best friend, and Hemi was my buddy. He was always waiting to have a conversation, or just be petted. He loved to flip over and have his ribs rubbed. He would wag his tail in such a way that you just knew he was happy. He loved fetching. Did I mention he loved swimming. 

We cut back on the swimming because he had a chronic ear infection. We just could not clear it up. He had so much goop in his ears all the time. Sometimes, it was the smell that reminded us, and sometimes it was the way he shook his head as if to say, “Guys! My ears hurt!” About 10 days ago, Hemingway suddenly had less of an appetite and was a bit lethargic. We worried that maybe he had swallowed something again. After a visit to a local vet who told us that the X-ray shows something in his stomach area, the vet recommended that we take him to Grand Rapids for an ultrasound to determine what might be in his stomach. We called out up north vet and found out they were closed due to a positive Covid–19 test affecting the office, so they wouldn’t be available. This was Wednesday afternoon. We decided we could make it to the next week. We really preferred having the doctor who knows him work on him. 

He was still eating a bit, drinking a lot, and still wagging his tail, so we thought we had time. On Saturday we headed up north, leaving Hemi at home with Lori’s brother. He was still up beat and all, so we were confident we could make it into the new week and get him to the vet up north. It’s a complicated, long story but we had an appointment for Monday at 3 p.m., but sometime around 9 a.m. on Monday morning Hemi passed. Hemingway is now with Bubba, Gibson, and Higginson. He’s heard the stories about each of them, so I’m sure they’re all catching up these days, probably driving my Mom crazy! Can’t you hear her, “Hemi, get down. You’re too big.” 

Hemingway was with us for almost five years. It was a quick five years, but he was able to participate in a lot during that time. I know that he touched many kids’ and teachers’ lives at Buckley, Alma, and Vanderbilt. He was a great companion and will be missed. He leaves a void.

I love you, buddy.