Sherman Thunder Cloud

Many of us have had pets. Not just pets but four legged creatures that become a part of our family. Animals that comfort us, confound us, test us, and love us unconditionally.  This story is about one of those that I was fortunate enough to have share part of my life with.  While this is a work of fiction that was written for a class many many years ago the essential elements are true. Thunder was very real and the pictures that are scattered through this piece are of him though I do apologize for the quality as they were scanned from glossy originals taken long before the advent of digital cameras.

Oh, and word of warning the assignment this was written for was to write a piece that evoked an emotional response from your reader. Out of 15 stories mine was voted 14 to 1 as getting the strongest reaction.

Sherman Thunder Cloud CD

The summer sun splashed purple and gold across the sky as I swirled the last of my gin and tonic around the rapidly melting ice cube in the bottom of my glass.  It was a quiet summer evening as I idly watched the neighborhood kids playing baseball in the vacant lot next door.  Thunder lay in a patch of sunlight at the edge of the yard positioned so he could watch the game yet his chin rested on the dirt between his huge front paws and his eyes were closed.  His entire demeanor was completely passive as only a Labrador Retrievers’ can be.

As I sat watching the big glossy black dog sleep in his personal patch of sun I couldn’t help but wonder if he really understood as much as I thought he did.

I could not help but reflect on the day Thunder had become a part of our family.

His life had started nine years ago in a litter of ten in a kennel somewhere in Montana that specialized in providing Guide Dogs for the blind. His pedigree was magnificent, to say the least.  There were no fewer than six Guide Dogs listed in the last three generations on his pedigree chart with two more field champions and a dual championship.  This meant that almost all of his heritage through his great-grandparents had been exceptional, not just in the beauty pageant atmosphere of the conformation ring but in the very demanding training and discipline of field work and even more rigorous Guide Dog training.  Everything pointed to an animal of careful and exceptional breeding, blending the strength, adaptability and calm demeanor natural to a Labrador with the competitive desire to achieve in the field and the above average intelligence needed to handle the complex screening and training necessary to become a Guide Dog for the blind.

It was here that Thunder was found by Jack while he was in Montana conducting one of his many seminars on dog training and handling.

Thunder had been washed out of Guide Dog school.  He was certainly intelligent enough and his temperament was excellent, but he was a little over tall for a Labrador and most critically he lacked that special fire absolutely necessary to be a quality Guide Dog.  Jack took a quick look at Thunder, checked his pedigree, dickered price over a couple of Scotches, then packed Thunder into a shipping crate and air-freighted him back to Illinois.  The customary call to the kennel to send someone to the cities to pick up yet another dog and Thunder was on his way to a new life.

To say that Thunder was a disappointment to Jack was an understatement.  It wasn’t that Thunder didn’t learn the things he was taught.  He picked up even the most difficult exercises very quickly.  However, he did everything with a nonchalance that bordered on the lackadaisical.  Nothing could be done to make him hurry “smartly” at anything.  He always got the job done but always in his own sweet time.  With Jacks’ national reputation as a dog trainer a “lope along dog” was simply not acceptable.  So Thunder was relegated to the kennels as a stud dog, living his days and nights in a four foot by twelve foot run attached to a three foot square dog house shared with another kennel dog, in a large row of identical runs occupied by a variety of other dogs that were here for training or boarding.

It’s not that he was abused.  He actually probably enjoyed most of his time in the kennel.  The run was always kept clean as Jack insisted “the dogs come first” and “you never know when an important client will show up and want to see the kennels.”  Meals were regular and with his pedigree, there was always a generous supply of girlfriends.  Most of the kennel hands liked Thunder as he never caused any ruckus, loved to be sprayed with the hose and had a special habit of backing up to the wire fencing so he could do his business directly into the adjacent run and not dirty his own.  This on occasion brought some growling and snapping from the dogs in the neighboring runs which Thunder usually handled with typical Labrador aplomb as he would simply lay down on the other side of the run, sprawl out full length and go to sleep.

When Jack was killed in a train accident, life changed unexpectedly for everyone associated with J & J Kennels including Thunder.  With over eighty dogs owned or boarded in the kennels for training, showing, or breeding and no Jack to go around the country to promote business or oversee the overall operation, things quickly became impractical. Boarded dogs were shipped back to their owners but that still left over a dozen show and breeding dogs. Most of the field dogs were sold off and the kennels were essentially closed down.  Thunder was actually sold to an associate of Jack’s who ran a kennel in Iowa. Thunder’s forte had always been retrieving of wounded game, especially ducks and geese from water. His new owner preferred to hunt pheasants which Thunder preferred to “tenderize” as he ambled back in across the field.  The net results of Thunder’s proclivity for turning a pheasant into ground meat and feathers before he got back to the handler was his return to Jack’s wife and Galesburg.

Now I had practically grown up at the kennels with Jack’s sons as a weekend guest/kennel hand. Early one morning Jack’s eldest son, Mike, called to ask if I would like to have a male Labrador to possibly breed with the female Lab I already owned.  Mike, his two younger brothers and his mom had each taken at least one dog from the breakup of the kennel and no one had room for one more dog. After a clamoring of Yesssss from my two kids and a reluctant OK from my wife I went to pick up Thunder.

Remembering some of Thunder’s eccentricities and knowing from my own experience some of the tendencies of the typical “kennel dog”, I loaded him into the back of my station wagon. With his AKC papers in my pocket and my promise to Jeri, Jack’s widow, to “bring him back out to the farm if he gets to be too much to handle,” I headed for home.

He stood the whole way home effectively blocking any view out the inside mirror. All I could see was black dog and as I pulled into the drive I wondered if I could indeed handle that 95 pounds of lean, muscled dog, what if “he proved to be too much to handle”.

Both kids jumped with excitement around the car as I tried to hook the leash into the ring on Thunder’s collar. He didn’t help much as when he saw the kids he decided to get into the front seat with me. Thunder was clearly ready to get out of the car on my side whether I got out or not. His broad, powerful tail was waging exuberantly, pounding bruises on my arm and a small dent in the padded dash of the car. I opened the car door and let the beast out in the interest of self-preservation. He immediately greeted both kids by rushing them right off their feet. I think this startled Thunder more than the kids or my wife who tried to maintain her poise by yelling at ME instead of Thunder.  His reaction was to lick each child right on the face and then stand perfectly still as Sheri, my four year old daughter grabbed Thunder by the ears with both hands and pulled herself back to her feet. Rather than the frightened reaction from Steve, who was only two, what I saw was a joyous grin on his face as he sat between Thunder’s massive front feet and giggling reached up to play with the big dog’s muzzle.

Steve and Thunder

A cursory walk around our fenced backyard, a carefully monitored tour of the house, including a hissing introduction from Rascal, our cat, and a somewhat more receptive greeting from Holly, our female Labrador, and Thunder selected what would become “his spot” on a throw rug in front of the TV where he promptly stretched out and went to sleep.

Thunder settled into our household as if he had always been an esteemed house dog. He was especially fond of the kids and would “play” with them for hours. He would lay on the floor as they climbed on him, jumped over and occasionally onto him. He would retrieve favorite toys, balls, or anything one of the kids would throw over and over. This of course made him something really special for the kids.

My wife and I decided that with just a little work we could get both Labs trained enough to show them in obedience trials. She would train Holly, our female Lab, and I would work on improving Thunder’s performance. I was so pleased with myself. I had set this up pretty well.  After all Thunder had substantial obedience and field training and Holly had been trained in some of the obedience basics at home. This was going to be a breeze.

The first few formal training sessions went very well. Thunder was easily the star of the class. He sat when we was supposed to, stayed in heel positions through even the trickiest patterns. He was simply spectacular on long sits and downs. With all the dogs lined up on one side of the training room the commands were given to “stay” and then the handlers were to move to the other side of the room and stand facing their dog. Most of the other “beginner dogs would move, some even taking the opportunity to check out the other dogs in the class by sniffing their way up and down the line. Thunder simply sat through it all calmly watching the other “less dignified” dogs in the class with complete disdain. I was quickly becoming convinced I was a “master” dog handler.

It was week five of my obedience training when Thunder first exhibited who was really in control. A few of us were standing outside the training building talking about dogs when all of a sudden Thunder took exception to having his equipment checked out by another male dog. In this case a Springer Spaniel named Duke. A little growling and some leash tugging was all at the beginning. I quickly and firmly gave Thunder the command to “Sit” which he did, but, not without positioning himself so he was facing his antagonist instead of tight beside my left side. I, “The Master Dog Handler” returned to the conversation assuming my command had solved the problem. Not a minute later a deep rumbling growl answered by a challenging bark and aggressive lunge by the Springer and a full-fledged dog fight was under way.

Now having spent many an hour helping in the kennels I had witnessed several dog fights and had helped separate the combatants on more than one occasion, usually with a shovel or stream of water from the hose. I knew that both dogs were capable of inflicting considerable damage on each other and anyone else that got in the way for that matter and there was not a handy tool of any kind. Much to everyone’s surprise the fight was over before anyone could react.  Thunder had moved quickly nose to nose with the Springer and the moment “Duke” had tried to go for Thunder’s throat, Thunder had pivoted sharply using his hip to knock the Spaniel off balance. The Springer ended up on his back with Thunder standing astride his chest. No fierce growling, no barring of teeth, no trying to bite his opponent. Thunder simply pinned his adversary and exerted his dominance, firmly, confidently, immediately. I was clearly not the control part of this dog/handler team. Thunder merely tolerated my directions as long as it suited his purposes at the moment. I was just along for the ride as long as Thunder was concerned

For most of six months we trained for obedience competition. We would walk together with the Labs every evening always looking for different situations and distractions to challenge the dog’s attention. We became a familiar sight at the local Little League Park with the excitement, noise and immediate adoring attention of every child there. All this provided all the training distraction any handler could hope to face in a show ring and more. Both Holly and Thunder seemed to really enjoy these training sessions. We would walk around among the crowd giving little constant reminders to the dogs that they were working by gentle tugs on the leash or quiet stern commands to “watch me”.

The kids who were regulars to the park would stream out behind us like a train bragging to each other about some incredible feat they had witnessed Holly and Thunder perform. Several of the older kids would via for permission to do the baiting when we practiced long sits and downs along the outfield fence. We would sit the dogs side by side and walk some distance away. The kids who had seen this routine would take turns walking past the dogs, playing catch in front of them, rolling the ball across the ground in front of them and generally doing anything they could think of to try and get Holly and Thunder to break their stay. Several of the kids got so proficient at this that they would even give a command to stay themselves if they thought either dog was about to move. Both dogs became so familiar with this scenario that it was very rare that either of them could be persuaded to move off their assigned stay positions.

After these sessions we would treat both dogs with an ice cream cone and go sit in the stands to watch some of the baseball game while every kid in the ball park would crowd around to pet the dogs. Occasionally we would even give over the leash of one of the dogs to an older kid to let them walk the dog once around the outfield.  I was never sure who enjoyed those walks more, the proud kid showing off “his” obedience dog or the Labs who really exalted in all the attention.

It was late September when we got out first taste of a real obedience trial. We loaded our kids and the dogs into the station wagon and headed to the Quad Cities. Everyone was excited as we unloaded at the show site. Both dogs surged with curiosity to examine their new surroundings. Tension mounted in all of us as we waited our turn to exhibit. Many of our friends from obedience classes were here to show their own dogs, cheer, and encourage us as well.

Thankfully my turn came first as I have always been one to dive right in. I just don’t have the patience to sit and wait for much of anything. Thunder and I entered the ring the judge introduced himself and briefly explained what he wanted us to do. First Thunder and I were to walk down one side of the ring together and turn left proceeding along the back of the ring. The judge would command two changes of pace and two halts which we must perform as a team with no tugging on the leash or extra commands. Everything must be done promptly and crisply. Then we must perform a figure-eight exercise. That is, dog and handler must walk alternately around two people standing approximately ten feet apart with the handler maintaining a constant pace while the dog adjusts to the handler as he is alternately inside or outside the loops of the figure-eight. Thunder and I got through this in fairly good shape and I was finally beginning to relax. Next came the off-lead portion of the exercise which is merely a repeat of the previous exercise but without a leash on the dog for control. Thunder and I started off fine but without the gentle weight of the leash Thunder started lagging behind me. When I came to the first left turn I could see Thunder was a good four feet behind me and I instinctively slapped my leg to encourage him to catch up. At the far end of the ring where we had to make an about turn I pivoted to see Thunder was just ambling up to the end of the mat watching me but afterwards I imagined he was smiling at me.

I scarcely remember doing the long sits and downs. I was so upset with Thunder blowing the routine. After our judging class was over the judge approached me and said, “I have never seen a dog heel like that. He was lagging behind you almost ten feet at one point but he didn’t miss one corner or shorten up the about turn at all. By the way I took off two points for the dog lagging and five points from you for every leg pat or extra command you gave. Next time just let the dog do his thing and concentrate on not making silly handler errors. You’ll do fine.  You’ll never score very high but you shouldn’t have any trouble getting a qualifying score.”

A qualifying score is 175 out of a possible 200 points. Thunder and I got a 177 that day. Jan and Holly got a 182. All the way home Jan kept going over every step of the routine while I tried to forget the whole day entirely.

Tilly laying down, Lady Sitting and Thunder standing

It was several weeks later that we first noticed something was wrong with Thunder. At first it was just a loss of appetite. Closer inspection revealed some slight yellowing in the whites of his eyes and some similar discoloration where his skin showed. We also started noticing his urine had a dark orange color and had a really strong odor.

A trip to the vet was clearly in order. He put Thunder on the examine table. Thunder, as usual just stood there and closed his eyes. After a quick examination the vet took some blood samples and told us he’d run some tests and call us with the results.

The call came the very next day. Thunder had end-stage chronic hepatitis, there was very little to be done for him expect keep him comfortable for the short time he had left.

This left us with a problem. Thunder was entered in an obedience show that coming Saturday and only needed one more qualifying score to complete his Companion Dog Certificate or “CD”. Could he handle the stress of one last competition?  Could we?

Thunder and I went for a walk that evening while I pondered what to do. He seemed fine, if anything he was doing a better than usual job of maintain proper heel position. He seemed to have more bounce and eagerness about himself. As we cut across the vacant lot beside the house Thunder literally yanked the leash out of my hand and bounded into the middle of a wiffle ball game, proceeded to snag the ball out of midair and run around the bases with a gaggle of yelling kids chasing him. He came to me and performed a perfect front and finish as if to say, “I’m fine, let’s just play with the kids awhile.”

Well, after that all I could say was,” the vet says he’s not contagious so let’s just go to the show and see how he does.”

Saturday turned out to be rather cool and the drive to the show site went quickly. Thunder slept in his crate all the way, not stirring until we pulled off the highway and into the show site. By the time I found a place to park the car and unload Thunder’s tail was hammering steadily on the side of the crate. He jumped out of the back and quickly did his business typically, up against the fence at the back of the parking lot.

We set up chairs at ringside to wait Thunder’s turn in the ring. Thunder lay beside my chair watching the other dogs as they performed their routines. When his turn came he was all bounce and exuberance. We turned in what was for him a very good performance.

Next came the long sits and downs. Now this particular show was being held outdoors using some open sided, steel framed shelters. The usual occupants of these shelters, a large group of swallows, had been making their displeasure known all day and as the long sit exercise began they decided they’d have enough of the canine invasion.  The swallows had been swooping in and out all day and now, with the dogs sitting alone on one side of the ring, the birds started diving closer and closer to them. Several dogs that had scored quite highly at other shows lost their cool and broke position under the pressure of being dive bombed by the birds. A brief moment of pandemonium commenced when two of the usually high scoring obedience dogs tried to catch one of the avian bombers at the same moment.   Thunder just sat there watching it all unfold.  The long down didn’t go much better for the 20 plus dogs in our group. Thunder meanwhile looked as if he’d gone to sleep his head moving only slightly when the judged walked down the line, I’m sure to check and see if Thunder was awake.

I was pretty sure Thunder and I had turned in a performance worthy of a qualifying score but with all but five of the twenty some dogs in our class eliminated by failing the long sits and downs, Thunder as in contention for a ribbon!

Now in obedience competition if there is a tie between two or more teams for any of the top five positions the placements are decided by a runoff. What that means is that each dog and handler team that is in a tie comes back into the ring and performs the off lead exercise one more time.  Adding to the tension is that none of the teams know what position you’re tied for.

An Irish Setter that had survived the chaos of the long sits and downs was called back into the ring and began to go through the designated heel pattern.

Now, all through the show a baby in a stroller had been parked at the far corner of the ring. This infant had been asleep through most of the competition but was now quite awake and doing considerable complaining and generally demanding attention. Just as the setter and his handler reached that end of the mat the child cut loose with an especially loud series of wails.  The Setter’s concentration was broken and he leaned over the barrier at the edge of the ring to see what all the commotion was about. An extremely embarrassed woman quickly attended to the child by popping one of those oddly shaped teething things into infant’s mouth.

A second dog was called into the ring and completed the requisite routine without incident. Next, Thunder and I were called to perform the exercise and once again Thunder was right there at my left knee moving smartly down the mat as we moved off and made the first turn. I had just completed the about turn at the far end when the judge called the halt a good ten steps before he had for the other dogs.  Thunder was not sitting beside me. I looked over my shoulder and sighed as Thunder came strolling up and assumed his position sitting beside me. We finished the exercise and the judge asked me to stay in the ring as he called in the other dogs that had placed.

First place went to Norwegian Elkhound, a beautiful dog that had placed first or second at every show we’d been at.

The judge called out, “second place with a score of 191++ went to the gallant Black Labrador Retriever”.  We had taken second place!!!! But, what did the judge mean by gallant?

After we got out of the ring several of the other handlers came over to congratulate Thunder and I.  One of them grasped my hand and said, “the way your Lab handled the baby down in the corner was beautiful.”

“What happened?” I asked

“Didn’t you see? Just as you did your about turn the kid threw that pacifier into the ring, your Lab picked it up with its mouth an dropped it back over the barrier right by the stroller and then without missing a beat turned and caught back up with you. I think the judge called the halt because he wasn’t sure the dog was going to stay in the ring. It all happened so fast nobody had time to react.  Most amazing thing I’ve ever seen at an obedience competition and it didn’t seem to faze your dog any more than the swallows. Gutsiest performance I’ve ever seen by a dog.”

I could only affectionately rub Thunder’s ears and say “Thanks” and quietly add to myself, if you only knew how much guts it had taken.

All of that had been a little over a month ago. Thunder’s condition had gotten steadily worse, particularly in the last few days. That he was in pain was only evidenced by the way he moved, but pick up a leash or his ball and the tail would thump happily and the ears would perk up and his eyes would say, “I’m ready”.  The vet had said his last blood tests had shown some major build-up of toxins and that he had to be in pain. So we’d kept his routine light and gave him extra treats trying to make his last days as happy as possible.

As I swilled the last of my drink my wife  came out with the days mail. In among the assorted “occupant” trash was a letter from “The American Kennel Club.” Inside was a brief congratulatory form letter and an elaborate certificate that proclaimed “Sherman Thunder Cloud, male Black Labrador Retriever #SB549980” was now a certified “Companion Dog” and entitled to add the initials CD after his name.

“Well Thunder,” I said, calling him out of his reverie. “you made it boy, You are now Sherman Thunder Cloud CD.” I let him lick the last of the gin and tonic out of my glass. His big blocky head pressed against my leg his dark, intelligent eyes looking at me with understanding. “How are you feeling Thunder? How much longer can you take the pain?  His tail thumped against the dirt raising small clouds.  At that moment one of the kids playing ball in the lot next to ours hit a “Ruthian blast: that came bouncing into our yard. Thunder grabbed the ball on one bounce and went bounding toward the kid who had hit it and was running the bases. As the slugger turned third headed for home Thunder ran up alongside him and nuzzled him over. There immediately rose a gleeful chorus of “you’re out, Thunder tagged you out, you didn’t get a home run Thunder caught you.”

As I watched the kids tease the batter and try to get the ball from Thunder I realized just how much we were all going to miss this big, powerful, lackadaisical, joyously loving creature.

Writer’s note: Thunder was put to sleep about a month later when he got to hurting so bad his back hips hunched up to try and relieve the stress on his gut.  He is buried on a country hillside overlooking a pond with a clump of daffodils to mark the spot.