A Friend Named Thor

I lost my best friend about a year ago and I still hurt as much as if it happened yesterday. His name was Thor and he was a big old curly headed Airedale Terrier. If you don't know much about Airedales don't feel bad because most people don't. They are ultra smart, fierce protectors, best friends and loyal companions. They like to bond with one person, and when they do, it's for life. They're a pretty big dog, the males get to be about a hundred pounds, but they're capable of incredible tenderness. At one time they were a popular breed but they got a bad rap for being stubborn and hard to train. There’s an old saying about the dog that say’s that you can teach an Airedale to do anything - but not until after they’re a year old. It doesn’t take you very long after you get an Airedale to find out that’s not a wives tale.

I got our first Airedale, Princess, for my wife while we were in Canada. She was a wonderful dog, very sweet, very timid but also very protective - especially of our kids. We never had to worry about our kids playing in the yard because they were never out of her sight. If one of them cried she was the first one there to find out why. If someone came into the yard, it didn’t matter if she knew them or not, she always got between them and the kids. She was very special to us. After she died I bought Thor a few years later.

I knew that Thor was going to be special because of something that happened when he was about a year old. I used to tie him outside during the day and he didn’t like that very much. To make matters worse, one of our neighbor kids had a go-cart with two seats in it and he used to like to tease Thor with it.

He would sit on the road, down over the bank and behind the lilac bushes from Thor, and hold his foot on the break while he revved his engine up and down. It drove Thor nuts. I would come out and tell Thor to be quiet and tell the kid to stop doing it or he might be sorry some day and the kid just laughed and tore off. I told the kids parents and grandparents what he was doing and they both said they told him to stop doing it or he was going to get bitten, but he wouldn’t listen. They both said that if he gets bitten it’s his own fault. I knew darn well that if Thor ever bit the kid they would sing a different song. I had to happen.

One day Thor had enough. I just stepped out of the front door as Thor broke his chain. I looked down at the kid and his eyes were as big as saucers. He took his foot off the brake and looked like he was shot out of a cannon. Thor came down off that bank and dove through the lilac bushes like he was thought he was Underdog. As soon as he hit the road he made a right turn and took off after that kid for all he was worth, he wanted that kid badly.

I jumped off of the porch, screaming at the top of my lungs for Thor to stop but he couldn’t or wouldn’t listen. I too dove through the lilac bushes, not looking anything like Underdog but more like a bull in a china shop, and landed on the road on all fours getting a very bad case of road rash on both hands and knees. All I could do was turn my head to the right and watch the story unfold.

Thor ran that kid down in less than one hundred yards. And then with another one of those leaps he landed right on the seat beside the kid. The kid screamed at the top of his lungs and slammed on his breaks. When he came to a full stop he screamed again. When he did Thor…..just sat there and looked at him. He never growled, never snarled or barked or did any thing but stare at the kid - for five minutes!

I tried to call him a couple of times but I was too busy laying on the road laughing, the tears streaming down my cheeks. After Thor was done he hopped out of the go-cart and bounced back down the road to me, giving me a big wet kiss when he got there. How could I be mad at him? The kid didn’t go back by our house until long after Thor and I were in the house. Later that evening the kids dad stopped by and he couldn’t stop laughing. The kid had told him what had happened but what I didn’t know was that when the kid came to a stop and saw Thor starring him in the face, he wet himself. He was twelve years old. He never rode his go-cart past our house again.

Thor went everywhere I went. I had a Ranger extra cab pickup and I couldn't move it without him in it. It had bucket seats in the front and he had to sit on the passenger side - until I got to where I was going, then he sat behind the wheel. I never had to take the keys out or lock the doors because nobody was getting near that truck but me. As I was driving down the road I would talk to Thor about stuff that was bothering me. I could talk to him about anything. He sat on the seat and looked straight out of the front of the windshield like I did. He looked almost human sitting in that seat. As a matter of fact I was always running into people that said they saw me go through town talking to somebody when in fact it was Thor.

You might think I'm crazy because I talked to my dog but you see, the funny thing about Thor was that he answered me. I swear! You can ask any body in my family and even some of my close friends and they will tell you the same. I would look at Thor and say. "Thor, what do you think about blah, blah, blah," and when I finished he would look over at me and start moving his mouth, he didn't make any noise, but it was like he was talking to me. When he was done he would turn his head back away. I'm telling you it was freaky.

I would go into the living room and sit down in a chair and he would sit in the chair next to me. I would start talking to him and my mom would freak out and make me stop. She said that a dog that thought it was human just wasn't right, that it was down right creepy, and she wouldn't let me talk to him around her any more.

Another thing he liked to do is this. We had a shed down at the far end of our yard. Whenever we had some junk we couldn't throw away, it was my job to take it down to the shed. I would always load my arms with as much stuff as I could to cut down on the number of trips I had to make. I would get right about in the middle of the yard and all of a sudden my shorts were yanked down to my ankles.

There I stood, in my underwear, my arms full of junk that I didn't want to let go of, with Thor hopping around me like some kind of demented kangaroo. He knew I wouldn’t drop the stuff and chase him, I couldn’t catch him anyhow. All I could do is step out of my shorts and carry the stuff the rest of the way and hope nobody drove by.

The ladies down at the bank just loved him, when I pulled up to the drive in window they all came over to watch. I would put a check in the drawer and they would close it. They would get the cash around and put it in an envelope along with two bones for Thor. They’d slide the drawer back out and Thor would stick his huge head into the drawer, careful not to touch anything else, pick up the envelope and hand it to me.

He would sit down and patiently wait for his bones. I would give him his bones and he would make short work of them. Then came the moment all the girls were waiting for. When he finished he looked in the window at the girls and gave them a big smile. They would laugh and start clapping and that just made his smile get bigger. As I pulled away from the window, my smile was every bit as big as his.

When I became disabled he could sense there was something wrong. If I laid on the ground to do something to the truck he would freak out. He would run over and try to pull me out from under the truck or try to pick me up off the ground. I had to rub him and talk to him to try to convince him it was ok but he wouldn't leave my side until I was done. Whenever I was feeling bummed out he would sit beside me and push up against me, like he knew it made me feel better to pet him. When I was really bummed out, instead of pushing against me he would rub his head up and down on me, like he was petting me. He was unreal. When Thor died I cried like a baby and I'm not ashamed to say it. I loved that dog, more than most people I know. Is that wrong? Most people attach strings to their affections. His love was unconditional. Darn, now my eyes are getting all misty.