A dog named Tank

[Kramersmom]

For all of us who appreciate our dogs. (Have some Kleenex handy)

Subject: Tank

They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie as I looked at him

lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people

really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but

everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and

open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new

life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk

to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The

shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they

said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like

"Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me

Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys

almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a

sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really

hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how

long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe

it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too

much alike.

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls - he wouldn't

go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all

of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need

all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. but

it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to.

I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like

"sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he

felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name

- sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I

said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask

again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.

This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some

unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it,

I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two

weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my

cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on

the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather

cynically, that the "damn dog probably hid it on me."

Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number,

I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad

in Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most

enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey,

Reggie, you like that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead,

he sort of glanced in my direction - maybe "glared" is more accurate -

and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me.

Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the

shelter phone number.

But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely

forgotten about that, too. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see

if your previous owner has any advice.".........

______________________________________

To: Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told

the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even

happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back

from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the

shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and

toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this

time... it's like he knew something was wrong. And something is

wrong... which is why I have to go to try to make it right.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you

bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. the more the merrier. Sometimes I think

he's part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two

in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in

there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll

bound after it, so be careful - really don't do it by any roads. I

made that mistake once, and it almost cost him

dearly.

Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go

over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones - "sit," "stay,"

"come," "heel." He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go

back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your

hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a

high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down - I bet you

could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and

"bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.

I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like

little pieces of hot dog.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and

again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter

has the brand.

He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his

info. with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when

he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him

in the car - I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the

vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only

been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me,

so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well

in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be

around people, and me most especially.

Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going

to live with someone new. And that's why I need to share one more bit

of info with you....His name's not Reggie.

I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the

shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get

used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just

couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed

so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me

admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back,

getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything's fine.

But if someone else is reading it, well it means that his new owner

should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows,

maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving

you problems.

His real name is Tank.

Because that is what I drive.

Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name

has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make

"Reggie" available for adoption until they

received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I

have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with... and it was my

only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq , that they

make one phone call the shelter... in the "event"... to tell them that

Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy,

too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it

personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.

Well, this letter is getting to downright depressing, even though,

frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was

writing it for a wife and kids and family. but still, Tank has been my

family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my

family.

And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that

he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.

That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as

an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people

from those who would do terrible things... and to keep those terrible

people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do

it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of

love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this

letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to

Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on

him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss

goodnight - every night - from me.

Thank you, Paul Mallory

__________________________________

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had

heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like

me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously

earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies.

Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring

at the dog.

"Hey, Tank," I said quietly.

The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

"C'mere boy."

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood

floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name

he hadn't heard in months.

"Tank," I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears

lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of

contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his

shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me."

Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some

ball? His ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?" Tank

tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room. And when he came

back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

[Xonk]

I should have known better when I saw the Kleenex warning...

Now I have to get get ready for work with puffy red eyes!

[sheila and Misty]

Oh! snif sniff really touching story....so relieved to hear a happy ending!

[Shazza]

Oh my!

I read "have some kleenex ready" but do you think I would listen!! NOOOOO

Thank you for sharing about tank, it was great

[Tuckersmom]

man, I read this at work.....

[Kramersmom]

I know what you all mean. That is why I said with the kleenex, but it was such a happy ending for Tank. I cried as well but was glad to find out Tank is happy again and learned how to fit 3 tennis balls in his mouth.

[Autumn & Lola]

Waaaaaaaa! That was a very sweet story. I'd wipe my tears, but Molly took off with the last of the tissues.

[Kramersmom]

Oh no is Molly a tissue shredder too?

[josie&holly]

I read this and shed some tears and Holly shred some tissues. I was so moved by it that I copied it and sent it to some folk I know who have dogs or lke dogs. Thank you.

[TazTalk]

I should have waited until I got home to read this! So sad and bittersweet.

[hheldorfer]

God bless you for taking Tank into your home . . . and thanks for the reminder that many dogs aren't just "dumped" at the shelter.

[Murphy's Mom]

sniffle, sniffle. Good story. Thanks for sharing that.