The Bob

Will Collier writes:

All Labrador Retrievers are inherently nuts. Bob was Lab-plus. Bob was definitely a Lab–he loved everybody, instantly, and the biggest danger he held to a burglar was being licked to death. He was a goofball who loved to dash around with his tail wagging at 90 miles an hour, and for most of his life his idea of heaven was being in the same room with more than one person and a heavy chew toy. When he was particularly happy–say, when the dog food bin was opened–he’d run around in tight circles. When we got up to take our dinner plates to the kitchen after a meal, he’d circle around at least half a dozen times.

But Bob was also weird. He was a Lab who wouldn’t swim (he’d just lie down in the shallows, or better yet, a puddle), and who hated to get his paws wet after a rainfall. He once chased Alaskan bears across our television screen, then looked expectantly up the stairwell (after all, those bears just walked past the window–they must be coming inside!). When our vet examined Bob for the first time, he pronounced the dog “perfectly normal.” I told him I wanted a second opinion.

If you’re a dog lover, read the whole thing. I knew The Bob incredibly well. Except he was called Willie, and he was also part lab and part retriever. Very different in personalities (Willie never met a body of water he didn’t want to traverse, from the Pacific Ocean down to the smallest stream), but equally crazed. And their long lifespans sadly ended quite similarly. Hopefully Willie and The Bob are getting on quite well together, these days.