Dag Hammarskjöld

Dag Hammarskjöld, Markings
In the point of rest at the center or our being. we encounter a world where all things are at rest in the same way, Then a tree becomes a mystery, a cloud a revelation, each man a cosmos of whose riches we can only catch glimpses. The life of simplicity is simple, but it opens to us a book in which we never get beyond the first syllable.

Thursday, January 31, 2008

R.I.P., Brandeis

1 Oct 1994 - 31 Jan 2008
A.K.A. Diceman, Bando, Red October, Redoct, B-Dawg, Bandokins, Mr. Dawg, Special Dog, Alpha Dog, Marine.





This guy was a Dawg among dogs. In his day, he:
  • Dominated different off-the-leash parks like a congenial and gentle bouncer in his immaculate, three-piece suit which no quadruped or biped would dare sniff or touch without permission.
  • Made the Brown Trout Doberman Pinscher calendar three times in four years.
  • demonstrated Frisbee and tennis virtuosity with breath-taking hang-times and over-the-shoulder catches.
  • Learned how to swim and surf at the age of seven so that predatory Labradors could no longer steal his Frisbees or sticks.
  • Serially killed intruders (no cats!) in home and yard, recording a two-digit body-count.
  • Risked his life foolishly pursuing coyotes and Snowy Plovers for hours.
  • Always welcomed grandchildren (6!) as a host, playmate and protector.
  • Never lost a family wrestling match or game of 'lap-nip'.
  • Maintained a perfect record as a watch-dog for one and a third decades, barking only at barkable offenses.
  • Learned how to walk the neighborhood without no stinkin' leash. (the most reliable early morning, crack-of-dawn blogger in the neighborhood).
  • Served as extra, living, and breathing bed-warmer and blanket in winters.
  • Exhibited perfect table manners - always walking through the house after a meal to find and thank the cook.
  • Enthusiastically washed dishes 24-7 (never drying!).
  • Loved, parks, hills, forests, beaches and car rides - even if they were for errands - to the very end.
We aged and grew wise together. From where will my wisdom come now? In the end, the best we could give you is a comfortable, painless release from a long life, fully lived. No tears from here. Only cheers....

1 comment:

  1. On the morning after Bando’s passing, 1 Feb, I was having a nightmare. An intruder was threatening to shoot me because I would not surrender my jewelry collection in the attic. Just as he was pulling the trigger, I heard a soft WOOF! at the back door, which woke me from the dream. The sound was exactly the same sound Bando used to gently remind us that we had forgotten to leave the door slightly ajar during the winter so he could re-enter. I looked at the clock. It was exactly 6:01am, the exact time every morning when Bando’s feet hit the floor in the mornings. (I think he maybe he could hear my ear phones when BBC went off the air, and knew when I was willing to respond to his needs.) I asked myself, was this Bando-to-the-rescue one more (last) time? Other answers and explanations are plausible. I’ll just leave this as an open question. Maybe, then, it won’t be the last time.

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