This old fellow is Molson, who was about the third golden we had rescued. He was a stud in a puppy mill, sold when the mill owner finally got in trouble with the law. But Molson had been controlled with a cattle prod for four years, and was lacking in the social graces as a result. He bit his new owner, and was turned over to a humane society. The society placed him with another family -- despite the history -- and he bit again. We were called the next day, and drove to get him with every intention of having him euthanized.
But the night before we had a record snowfall here in Vermont. The vet, being an avid skier, was on the slopes that morning so Molson was given a few hours of grace. We couldn't leave him in the crate all that time, so I leashed him and took him out in our snow-covered meadow. Two things quickly became obvious (1) He was an extremely well-behaved dog under controlled conditions, and (2) He was desparately afraid of me. So we stayed his execution and decided to work with him for a week.
A week stretched into two, then a month, and finally after a year I had a reliable dog that adored me and distrusted everybody else. Even my wife. Ever seen a protective golden? Not a pretty sight! He'd place himself between me and any perceived threat with every fang in his head bared...and he has most impressively large fangs!
One winter, when our water line froze solid, I had to make twice daily trips to the springhouse on foot to fill a pair of buckets with fresh water. The snow around the spring got pretty packed and turned to slick ice. One morning I slipped and fell headfirst down the spring shaft! Managed to keep my head out of the water, but there was no way I could get out by myself. I began calling for help, but didn't have much hope that my wife would hear me a quarter mile away inside the house. But a few minutes later I heard a ferocious growl and Molson began pulling me out by the cuff of my pants. With his help I managed to get out.
We've been devoted companions ever since.
Those of you who visited last year when Garry was in the area know what a big mush Molson has become since then. Sure, he's the Alpha of our pack and without him the rescue work we do would not be possible, but first and foremost he is my much-loved companion...and his ashes will be mixed with my own.
Pete
