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GW McClintock page

McClintock died of cancer 

When my husband and I first moved in together, I was ecstatic to be living in an apartment that allowed pets.  So you can imagine my disappointment when he said, “We’re not getting a dog.”  As my face fell, he apologized and said, “I’m just not a dog person.”  That lasted for one month until we bought a black lab/border collie puppy from the local Humane Society; we named him J.P.  We loved him so much that we decided it might be fun to get another puppy before he got any older - one that he was still young enough to play with, but old enough that he could still be in charge.  We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into when we set out for the Humane’s Society yet again in July 2005.

I was struck with love at first sight when I saw him.  There he was, a little blonde puppy curled up in a kennel.  Though his brother wriggled everywhere to get attention and pets, this little guy remained tucked away just watching the passersby.  When I crouched in front of the kennel, he just stared at me with those big brown eyes; it didn’t matter how many people stopped or walked by, he stared only at me and slowly wagged his little whip of a tail.  Jordan wasn’t sold on him right away; he and his litter of siblings had been abandoned somewhere downtown.  Their background was unknown, and the most that the Humane Society could determine was that he was some type of yellow lab and possibly golden retriever mix.  He was also much quieter than the other puppies, much more reserved, and was the runt of the litter.  Jordan was worried that energetic and hyper J.P. would trample him with his clumsy, growing paws.  But I just couldn’t shake the
feeling I had about this puppy, so we came back the next day with J.P. in tow.  We took the two into a small interaction room, and introduced them to each other.  Our potential new puppy lay sprawled partly in my lap and partly on the floor, uncertain of what was going on.  When J.P. came bounding over to smell him, he accidentally stepped on the puppy’s front paws.  I couldn’t suppress my laughter when all seven pounds of this little blonde dog stood up as straight as could be, touched his nose right to J.P.’s, and let out a deep bark that would have put most grown dogs to shame.  From that day on, he was ours.

We named him G.W. McClintock after the John Wayne movie McClintock.  Most people thought we were silly for naming him that...until they met him.  The name just fit perfectly; runt or not, he was one of the toughest, strongest, and most stubborn dogs we had ever met.  From the time that he came home with us, he despised being in a kennel and made no bones about the fact that the only place he would be happy sleeping is on our bed.  As all puppies do, McClintock loved chewing - but the real problem was he preferred only chewing on expensive things.  He destroyed every good pair of Doc Martens or other nice shoes that Jordan and I had between us; he wouldn’t touch, however, any of our ratty old house sneakers.  He hated almost all the chew toys that we bought for him as a puppy; but he loved all of the blankets, rugs, and sheets that Jordan had purchased in Korea during one of his military assignments.  McClintock’s joy of chewing was so strong that he even used it when Jordan and I came home for the day.  Once he heard our keys in the lock, he would dash towards the door, his teeth making this peculiar clicking sound as he gnashed them together over and over.  He never bit us, but he was probably seven or eight months old before he stopped the strange sound. 

He also knew how to outsmart his “big brother,” J.P.  J.P. probably despised McClintock most, if not all, of the first six months that they lived together.  As a result, he was constantly tormenting McClintock in all kinds of ways; his favorite was to walk by and knock McClintock over with his nose.  Once, we came home to catch J.P. tearing up a corner of the carpet and literally stuffing it in McClintock’s mouth.  McClin, for his part, always had some sort of odd revenge he would invoke against J.P.  Sometimes he would take J.P.’s toys and hide them in the space between the bathtub and toilet, then sit and stare while bulky J.P. tried - unsuccessfully - to get it out of that narrow space.  Probably my favorite incident was what McClintock did after J.P. had been throwing one of his toys in McClin’s face.  McClintock calmly walked over, yanked the toy out of J.P.’s teeth, dropped it, and promptly went to the bathroom on top of it.  They were
 both housebroken by that point, but apparently McClintock thought it would be okay to overlook that in order to prove his point to J.P. 

McClintock was also the great puppy Houdini as we liked to call him.  He could escape from anything no matter how big he was or how strong the enclosure in which he resided.  Jordan and I once came home to find his new kennel with a mangled door and McClintock wagging his tail at us on the OTHER side of that door.  He could also get in and out of closed household doors; if Jordan had gone into the front yard without him, it wouldn’t be long until our heavy front door opened and he came bounding out.  He also could open our swinging kitchen door by pushing his head against it until it swung far enough for him to push through.  It still makes me laugh when I remember seeing him with his head caught between the door and the frame, trying to squeeze his way out before I caught him. 

McClintock was a special dog; there was no doubt in our minds that he had had a rough beginning when we picked him out at the Humane Society.  Whereas J.P.’s only threat to people was his constant licking and need for pets, McClintock was at first cautious and reserved around most people.  Once he decided he liked you, he liked you forever and was loyal to you.  He seemed to have an especial soft spot in his heart for children.  When little kids would visit, we had to be careful with J.P. because of his size and over-eager personality.  But McClintock was wonderful with children no matter how little they were.  When one of our friends visited with his two-year-old daughter who was terrified of big dogs, McClintock took one look at her and immediately dropped on all fours in front of her so that she was standing above him.  She very nervously put out her hand to pet him, and he gently licked just her fingertips.  I will never forget seeing the look on
 her face that day - a look of instant joy and love for this silly, large dog.  We never knew what it was, but for some reason McClintock always knew instinctively that little kids were much more fragile than himself.  Even when they were loud or too rough with him, he was always gentle, slow with his movements, and kind. 
He was also very good with people who were uncomfortable with dogs, especially bigger ones.  A number of our friends were not especially partial to larger animals, but they all fell in love with McClintock.  He won their hearts by his reserved behaviors; he was content merely to sit by them, to let them pet his head or scratch behind his ears.  He was in so many ways the most gentle and sensitive of animals.  If one of us was upset, McClintock always felt compelled to console us by laying on us and licking us till we were smiling again. 

McClintock

McClintock was a dynamic, irrepressible being.  He had his own spirit, his own way of doing things, and even his own sense of humor.  He would give us dirty looks if he thought we were in the wrong (usually when we were trying to get him to make room for us on the bed).  When Jordan went out of town for the military, it was McClintock who always curled around me at night to reassure me and it was McClintock who woke me up each morning with kisses on the side of my face.  When Jordan proposed to me, it was McClintock who came running to greet us when we got home with the engagement ring on my finger. 

He never mastered fetch; he preferred an alternate version where he would come running back with the ball only to turn his face at the last minute to keep us from taking it and throwing it again.  He loved car rides; even as a puppy, he loved hanging his head out the window and breathing in the air as it whipped about his face.  We celebrated his birthdays with roast beef or steak. He tried to destroy every water bottle we ever brought into the house; they were his favorite chew toy.  It was hard to discipline him because even when he knew he was in trouble, he would always look at us with his lips pulled up in a dog smile that was so irresistible.  When he slept, he always dreamed of running, and so often his paws would start pounding the floor in his sleep. 

In the middle of September 2008 we prepared to move sixteen hours away for Jordan’s military reassignment.  Though J.P. has never been big into car rides and is generally a more anxious dog, McClintock always seemed to embrace things as a potential for adventure.  We took three days to travel, taking with us both dogs and a U-Haul trailer of our things.  Throughout the trip, McClintock was as funny, sweet, and incorrigible as ever.  We have pictures and videotape of him trotting about fields, hanging out in the backseat, and even sniffing my video camera.  When we finally reached our destination, we had to kennel both dogs while we searched for some place to live that would take pets.  The dogs were in the kennel for about one week before we could finally move them into a house we had found to rent.  That first day we brought them to their new home, McClintock seemed relatively normal except for one significant difference - he wasn’t eating.  We
 thought at first that it might be the stress from being moved so far from his original home, staying in a kennel for a week, etc.  But by the next day he was so fatigued that he was falling asleep while standing.  He tried to eat for us, but ended up getting sick.    While Jordan was petting him, he noticed that he had a swollen lymph node.  We called the vet and tried to bring him in for a visit, but were told that it didn’t warrant an emergency; the vet said that he was simply stressed from the move.  Two days later there was no improvement, so we scheduled an appointment to have him examined.  A different vet looked him over and determined that he had a kidney infection.  They wanted him to stay there while they treated him and ran some tests.  Two days later the vet discovered that one of his kidneys was permanently damaged and had to be removed.  He had also determined that there were strange masses in his abdomen; since he already had to operate to remove the kidney, he wanted to do exploratory surgery to figure out what the masses were.  He informed me that his best estimate was a perforated ulcer and that McClin might require a longer recovery period.  Though I was upset by the news that McClintock would have to have surgery, the doctor assured me that the other kidney was in perfect condition and that they could treat the perforated ulcer.  Before leaving the doctor’s office that day, I went to see him in the treatment room.  He was so excited when he saw me.  The nurses let him out so I could pet and hug him.  He was so happy that he jumped and pranced about, licking me and butting his head into my legs.  For those moments he was as energetic, young, and vibrant as he had ever been.  He gave no appearance of being sick.  When I led him back to his kennel, I promised him that Jordan and I would be back to see him the next day after his surgery.  The next morning, 30 September 2008, the doctor called me while they were still operating.  He told me that the masses they had seen via x-ray were cancer, and that it had overtaken almost all of the organs in McClintock’s body.  The damaged kidney could not even be removed, and the strong kidney was already covered in it.  Three surgeons had examined him, but all three agreed that it was inoperable.  He said there was no choice but to put him to sleep; the vet preferred to do it immediately rather than waiting a few days.  He would be in extreme pain from the surgery, he still wouldn’t be able to eat, and he would still be miserable from the damaged kidney not being removed.  There was no question of what action we had to take; we didn’t want to see him suffer.  My husband and I raced to the doctor’s office.  Though McClintock was unconscious, we scratched his neck and held his paws while we told him over and over how much we loved him.  We stayed there with him as they gave him the shot until we could no longer see our sweet boy breathing; it broke both of our hearts when we had to tell him goodbye.

It’s so easy sometimes to focus on the annoying things that a pet does; McClintock always licked our pillows incessantly so that when we went to bed at night, we inevitably put our heads in dog saliva.  He hid things in strange places so that they startled you while you were cleaning, like finding his random collections of water bottle caps.  He stopped doing something while you were scolding him, then waited till you had your back turned and would do it again.  He was stubborn to a huge fault, but you forgave him for it because he wore you down with his sweet nature.  He was tough, too tough sometimes.  He’d never whimper or cry if he was hurt.  He decided when he would come to his name, a habit at which I always found myself rolling my eyes.  He didn’t like to be cuddled too much, but he never liked to be left alone, either.  He loved the outdoors, and he would willingly go wherever Jordan went whenever.  He was unwaveringly loyal and good.  And those are the things that matter - because no matter what little peccadillos he had, I would gladly endure those a hundred times a day every day just so long as I could have him back with us.  Because you don’t love your pet in spite of those things; in a strange way, you love them because of those things just as much as you love them for all their good characteristics.  They are part of what makes them who they are, unique unto themselves.  He was the dog of our hearts, our pride and joy.  It’s been exactly one week now, and the loss we feel has been indescribable.  I wish I could say that it’s getting easier, but truthfully I think it will take a long time for that.  In many ways McClintock was and is the heart of our family.  His vivacious personality and endearing antics made great stories that we often passed along to family and friends.  It is hard to imagine that we’ll never get to hug him again, never have him wake us in the mornings
 with his kisses or play his own version of “fetch” in the back yard.  But perhaps even worse is knowing that others have had to go through this same pain and even more will do so till we can get a grasp on this cruel disease.  McClintock died of an aggressive, advanced form of lymphoma; he was only three years old.  We have spent a lot of time in the past couple of days learning about canine cancer, and are stunned by how many dogs will both battle this awful disease as well as die from it.  We would like to encourage as many people as possible to donate money to the National Canine Cancer Foundation so that others will not have to go through the same pain that we have.  It is our hope that McClintock can continue aiding others’ lives in death in the same sweet and giving way he did in life. 

To our little McClinney~


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