Dickens

Bio

Dickens was adopted as an adult from Grateful Dogs Rescue in San Francisco and spent twelve years with his beloved owner, Frank, mostly in Sonoma, where the two shared a special bond. Before finding Frank, he had landed at Animal Care and Control, labeled unadoptable for “behavior” issues. He was simply too scared of people. Fortunately, someone there saw something worth saving and contacted Grateful Dogs Rescue, changing the course of his life. With time, Dickens learned to trust those who loved him, though he never accepted walking on a leash.

After Frank’s death, my partner Rik and I welcomed Dickens into our family, where he joined his new brother, Wilson. He was already about 16½ years old when he came to live with us, but still full of quiet determination. Most of our time together was spent in San Francisco, but over the next two years, he traveled with us to the Sierra Nevada, the Mendocino coast, Washington State, and eventually on a cross-country drive to live with me in Washington, D.C. There, he experienced snow for the first time and enjoyed daily stroller rides through Fort Reno.

Though he weighed only 16 pounds, Dickens seemed made almost entirely of legs, with expressive eyebrows and a sweet, unmistakable face. As he grew older and his eyesight dimmed, his world naturally became smaller. Still, he found joy in the familiar: his stroller, his favorite block, stopping to sniff and pee on things, and sleeping deeply in his bed. Mostly, though, he loved food. Some of my happiest memories are of taking him out for hamburgers and watching him devour them with gusto. He also had firm opinions about vegetables, delicately removing them from his bowl and setting them aside before eating the rest.

Because I only knew Dickens as a very senior dog, I treasured the moments when I glimpsed the younger dog he once was–the one who raced around Frank’s large backyard with the pack and once single-handedly dispatched an unfortunate opossum. Sometimes that spark returned, like the day he caught the scent of a rat on a D.C. sidewalk and suddenly became a rambunctious pup again. One of my favorite memories is watching him on a beach for the first time, when something ancient seemed to awaken in him. He ran through the wind, felt the sand beneath his paws, and let out a triumphant “awooooo,” answering the call of the wild.

Remarkably healthy even in extreme old age, Dickens continued to enjoy his meals, his routines, and the comforts of home. He died peacefully at 18½, at home in his favorite bed, after a last trip to Fort Reno and spending his final hours feasting on bacon and an entire bag of freeze-dried minnows. He was deeply loved, lived a long and good life, and will always be my tiny Keebler. I miss you so much, BBD.