His name was Janggo. Janggo was the last of the litter sired by Tri-International Champion Wiking di Perlanera. His mother’s name sounded more like a human boxer rather than a doberman dam’s Moonlight Rocky Ridge Shirley.
It was in 2004 when my 40th birthday was coming up in six weeks. I had $1800 to spend for that milestone. Four decades of ups and downs and twists and turns.
I saved up that amount for a brand new Louis Vuitton Manhattan PM. But somewhere in the midst of purse yearning was an image of a black and tan doberman. The choices were not comparable but their visual quality hearkens back to my innermost desire.
Why doberman and not a tiny toy dog like bichon frise, chihuahua or pomeranian? Part of my growing up years was spent with my grandparents from my mother’s side. They used to have a german shepherd, mixed white named Leslie, and doberman. Doberman has always fascinated me even as a child. So I knew back then that this would be the kind of dog to have in my lifetime.
In search of a reputable breeder, we ended up in Chaplin Connecticut where Susan and David Volz operated under Charismatic Doberman which is now based in Florida. We were greeted politely and ushered in to our seats. My heart started pounding as I scouted the room for any signs of doberman activity.
Susan asked first who would be handling the doberman. I confidently said, “I will.” She asked further if I have any experience with dobermans. “My grandparents had one and I grew up with dogs. Big dogs,” I retorted.
Susan excused herself and went to another room. I wondered if her question was a qualifying inquiry before she would decide to let me have a doberman. She came back in with a heavy black and tan female doberman. She introduced her to me and then to my son. I knew she was watching our reaction, especially mine.
After a few minutes of interaction, she went back to the same room with the dog. A few minutes passed when she appeared again with a male doberman. This one was bigger, mean-looking and muscular. But his looks didn’t faze us. I was quite familiar with their deceiving appearance. Susan brought the dobie close to us for another meet-and-greet routine. Then they went back to where they came from. My excitement was compounding as I felt that the next one to show up from that same room would be my doberman puppy.
When the door opened, my heart leaped. Then my joy overflowed when a small sprinting puppy with two tampons sticking out of both sides of his head came dashing up to his soon-to-be mom. With wide arms open, I held his body closely. With his head propped up, his eyes stared at me. I gently touched his face while my eyes were peeled on his. Then I softly said to him, “Hello son.”
Our first dog Miyake was not too happy about having a new member in the household. Let’s face it. Sibling rivalry would not come in as a surprise. I tried to be fair and equal with my treatment to my boys but favoritism became clear and obvious as the days passed by that even my human son got jealous.
When Janggo joined the family, he was much smaller than Miyake which was a year older. Miyake was a mixed beagle and labrador according to the Animal Humane Society. Miyake and Janggo engaged in friendly plays while the dobie was still a puppy. I saw Miyake grabbing Janggo’s toys to assert his stature as the alpha male. It did not take long for his status to be taken over. Some tensions and quarrels transpired to establish who was the true alpha. The doberman prevailed, of course.
As a Realtor, I had the privilege to show houses with my boys in the car. Janggo loved the back seat as poking his head out of the sun roof was his favorite. Miyake would take the front passenger seat. When I was not driving, they hung out with me either in the home office or on the bed watching television.
We had a glorious and happy life together. The family’s first vacation was in the lake house in Maine. Both boys swam in the water. It was Miyake’s first swim by choice and Janggo’s, by accident. He fell off the dock while checking out what was moving underneath the slits.
Janggo had always been the constant trouble maker. He would chase the mallards like a crazy hunting dog. He ran away from me when he saw a squirrel or raccoon in sight in Belltown orchard. I broke down in tears when he disappeared in the woods for a long time. I frantically called his name while walking up and the down the hill. There was no sign of him anywhere. I went back to the house, took the car out of the garage and drove around the nearby streets with the car window opened to let the wind carry my voice calling out his name.
My car plodded the pavement of Belltown back and forth several times when I decided to come home with tears welling up nonstop hoping that Janggo would be at the house waiting for me.
But he was not there. My heart was getting heavier in desperation. Then I saw my boy scampering up the hill from the opposite direction of where he disappeared. I was mad at him for making me worry dreadfully. But then having him back drowned that anger instantly.
Life with Janggo was never dull. You never knew what trouble he would cause next. He was skunked one night that my son had to rush to the pet store to get a special shampoo to remove the odor. It did not go away completely no matter how hard I scrubbed and washed. I took him to the groomer the next day. When I picked him up, the groomer could not hide his indignation. He said I should have warned him that my boy was skunked. The smell filled the whole room once they started washing him, he added. I looked at him with menacing eyes. He could have said it in a more diplomatic manner. I paid the fee without the usual generous tip and turned around with my dobie tagging along. “Good Boy Janggo. Good boy stinking up that place. We never set foot in that establishment ever gain.
Janggo loved playing catch. He was very good at catching golf balls with his jaws. He would jump up in the air with agility to catch it, and swing back from the ground to give the ball back to either of the two pitchers with majestic pride.
He was a very curious dog. One time I saw him with a squirrel pinned under his paw. He was just playing with it but with his strong legs, he was slowly murdering the poor creature. My instinct overpowered my common sense when I stopped Janggo from scratching the poor rodent. I picked up the squirrel only to get bitten by his sharp teeth piercing through my fore fingernail and into the flesh. It cost me a visit to the emergency room and anti-tetanus shot.
Signs of slowing down was showing up in Janggo in 2015. I bought an SUV to accommodate his needs. My coupe was too tight and uncomfortable for his extremities and aging body. He could still jump up the SUV up to the last months of 2016. But in 2017, I started helping him up to the back of the car by putting his front legs first then lifting his butt up next. This went on until May 2018. We stopped going for rides because he started defecating even if the ride was only for fifteen minutes. It was frustrating for both of us. I could tell he was not happy about having incidents.
The thought of losing him would visit me as I saw his steps going wobbly. He would fall down frequently and standing up was only possible with human support. His bark was also getting weaker. The solid and strong tone was gone.
When I lost Miyake in 2013, it was an extremely excruciating moment because I was not expecting losing him on that day. Miyake was only ten.
Although Janggo was a bully to his brother, I knew he missed him. Months passed by before I was able to recover from the agony as Miyake was the very first one to go in the household. Janggo’s presence prodded my early recovery.
I could not fathom the pain of losing another child, of losing Janggo. The thought would come but I would shake it off quickly.
In August 7, 2018, that dreadful day came… a day short to celebrate his 14th birthday. He would have been 14 years old in August 8, 2018. Until now, I would burst into tears whenever I think of him. There was a piece of me that was taken away by his passing.
They say time heals all wounds. Time is the best elixir for all sorts of pain. Despite the truth in the saying, the time that I also wish for is the time I see him again…. along with Miyake, Minnie and Momo.
For now, play eternally in the beautiful meadows my child. Forever, you will be in my heart.
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