“Just a dog” is how many pets might be described. But not this guy. No way. Throughout his 11 and 1/2 year life, I’ve marveled at what an incredible Creature he was. This Being may not have been human, but for me and our family, I believe he rivaled the societal contribution of most of our own species.
He is the namesake of Rand’s Taggart in Atlas Shrugged, an individualist of the highest moral character, and he did not disappoint. Taggart was the truest of companions. His demeanor was calm, observant, stoic – but at the slightest sense of threat to his family he was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice. He intervened in more than one dog attack on his family while on walks, and, of course, was ever ready for the darkest of villains that might approach the house. He was self-controlled, loving, energetic, always ready for something new. But mention a “nap,” and he was ready to jump on the bed with our little pack for some rest.
He was smart, and he communicated well. With the smallest huff (which would grow incrementally to a bark for the inattentive), he would point you to what needed to be addressed: to the door to go outside, or to the food area, or especially to his water bowl… which had to be pristine. He did not drink slobbery seconds after his siblings, or even after himself. It needed to be clean just about every time.
He tolerated the little abuses and inconveniences of smaller dogs and kids, sacrificing his spot, toy, and maybe even a snack, for the non-alphas. There was no power play, guile or deceit in him. He displayed and expected order and appropriate behavior but seemed to know when to offer sympathetic tolerance to others.
He loved to go. Go anywhere. Always up for adventure. In daddy’s truck. In mommy’s car. To the park. On a walk. To go to school (doggy daycare). Of course, he knew all of the buzzwords for these activities, and once one had been mentioned, he maintained a proximity to and a watch over you until the promise was fulfilled.
Each morning he would find one of us and stare expectantly, wanting to know the plan for the day. What are we going to do? He loved to go on walks, hikes, rides, to meet people at the hardware store, in the department store (yes, Mandy took him to many), the hotels, at the restaurants that allowed him (and why wouldn’t they, being better behaved than many of their patrons?!). He was a favorite everywhere we went. He loved love, and he loved to love.
One of his favorite things was to “go downstairs.” Our last three houses have had basements. To go downstairs meant to sit as a pack on the couch and play games or watch a show. He loved that. He would look down the stairs, asking you to go, to be together, to snuggle. At the slightest confirmation, he would be the first one to the couch to claim his spot. If you happened to be home during the day, he might also find you, look towards the bedroom, and relay that we should go lay down on the bed to snuggle and nap.
“Two minutes of boxer love.” This is what I termed his first activity after waking in the morning. Typically, as an early riser, I would be at my desk before heading off to work. As soon as he woke up, he would come find me, sit placing his back to me, and wait to be petted, rubbed and scratched in all the right places, soothed with the reassurances of “such a good boy” and “I love you, Taggart.” Then, after about 2 minutes, being reassured of our bond and that all was right in our world, he would either lie down or head off elsewhere. But that connection and physicality always needed to be established each morning.
We happened upon Taggart as a young puppy, through a friend of a friend type connection. He was that family’s last of the litter, rambunctious, high-spirited. They brought him over to meet us and another of our prior beloved boxers, Roark, to see how we might mesh. It was an immediate connection. We didn’t let him go… until last night, which was after a long, beautiful life. Long for a boxer, anyway.
From very early on he was princely, regal, sophisticated. He often lie with head erect, paws crossed. Royalty. He loved to sit outside on the deck and survey his kingdom, assuring order and safety.
Taggart the Teacher: As I reflect on the companionship that Taggart offered, the service of his protection, the activity buddy over many hundreds of miles of walks in the span of 11+ years, the four states of residence, the family events and travel and memories, I recognize that his life is a lesson for us in many ways. He offered an example of numerous traits that we humans would do well to emulate, but more than that, to watch his life cycle from puppy to elderly canine, is to realize that our parents, children and ourselves must follow that same cycle of life: birth, growth, decline and death.
We had the pleasure of watching this young Creature learn and grow through an initially overly-energetic and fumbling experience. Over time he became a wise, old dog – patient, observant, poised, purposeful in his movements and actions. With that age eventually came infirmity, weakness and debility. He held up well as he slowed over this past year, until last night when his sudden shortness of breath and inability to get comfortable showed us it was time to call the hospice vet. She helped him pass quickly and painlessly as we held him, loved on him, kissed him and cried. Not I, but one of us sobbed pretty relentlessly. But we were able to assure his comfort at home. His canine sister, Ayva, experienced his passing and hopefully grasps that he is gone – in whatever form animals are able to understand death. Comfort for Taggart, closure for those of us that will go on for a while.
One of Taggart’s lessons is to remind us that our lives will end. To carry a mindset of that mortality should guide us to make purposeful decisions about our valuations and priorities, how we live, how we spend our time, how we treat ourselves and others, how to age well, how we want to die, how we would like to be remembered.
I do not have a conviction as to our afterlife, to souls, spirits, permanence, to what happens to our intelligence after the physical ceases to be. I do know that if there is an afterlife, a continuance of consciousness, it would be a loss to the universe if Taggart’s did not carry on in some way.
Taggart was not a pet that we owned. Taggart was an incredible Being with whom we had the privilege of sharing a journey, all of his journey. I hope that we were as good of companions in his journey as he was in ours. Today, it’s harder to walk that road without him.
We love you, Taggart. And thank you.
