From 1999 to 2011, Fletcher was my best friend and best protector. Originally a birthday present from Sue and Mom, he was a forlorn puppy, huddling in a corner of his pen the day I first saw him. All his brothers and sisters had just been adopted. He was just 7 weeks old, lonely, and terribly sad. But he perked up right away. He had the classic golden retriever temperament--cheerful, fun-loving, incredibly tolerant of kids and other animals, and happy-go-lucky from sun-up to sundown. As he grew up, he had a little difficulty with the whole house-training concept. But once he got it, he was good as gold for the rest of his life. He had puppy obedience training around 6 months, but it had to be repeated later, to better success. He was a few years old and Mr. Congeniality of the dog obedience class when he went back to school. Despite being used as an example of the bad dog in class early on, he was the only dog who passed with flying colors the entire graduation test--graduating valedictorian. A barn cat had wandered onto the field during the 3 minute down stay, and that was too much for every other dog. Fletcher, however, did not get up and join the chase, though every muscle quivered and he trembled so much it was almost painful to watch. Of course, he was not mister example the day I took him to agility class a few years later, and he wrapped his leash around my chair and then took off, pulling me over and dragging me when another dog he wanted to meet came by.
He was the gentlest soul I have ever known. I actually saw him pick up a fly once in his lips and set it down unharmed. I remember being outside one day when Fletcher came and pulled a "Lassie" type move, barking and taking a few steps and stopping and turning toward me. It was very obvious he wanted me to follow, and when I did, he stopped at a nest of baby blue jays that had blown down from a tree. He was most concerned for them. Fortunately, it was gentle Fletcher that found them, rather than the always hungry lab or one of the cats. Yet Fletcher was huge. Too big for the show ring, he was neutered early on, but still hit 90 pounds in his prime, though he settled for most of his life around 80. He was the classic Gentle Giant.
Fletcher was also the best friend of every other animal in the household. He perked up Dru, the senior lab, who loved him as her own puppy. And he was beloved of every cat...including the wild cat, Shadow, who would weave through his legs, and especially Poppy, who came to cuddle with him wherever he was. Gil, the younger labrador retriever looked up to him and loved him dearly to Fletcher's dying moments, and the two were inseparable for at least 8 years.
He had no real socialization with children in his early years, and we were not at all sure how he would react to the boys when we brought them home. We were pleased beyond our wildest dreams at how it all turned out, though. Fletcher was infinitely patient and loving with the boys, enduring much, playing much, and protecting much. Fletcher, even more than Gil, was the boys best friend. In later years when we sent the boys outside to play we made sure they always took Fletcher, because we knew that he would save them from anything. Lonya had a slightly rough start to his 1st grade year, but became the hero of the class two weeks in when he convinced me to bring Fletcher for his Show and Tell. Lonya proudly stood up in front of the class and announced to his classmates, "This is Fletcher. Every day when I come home, he runs to me because he is so happy to see me." The kids crowded around, petting and admiring Fletcher, and Fletcher just loved it.
Fletcher had just one real rule in life, which was recognized by all other dogs who met him. The rule was, "All balls belong to Fletcher." He was the consummate athlete. He seemed to instinctively understand the rules for various sports, and he was totally ball crazy. If he was at the lake where anyone was throwing a tennis ball for their own dog, Fletcher would leap in and retrieve it. Playing most ball sports in the lawn was absolutely impossible if Fletcher was there, because he would leap on the ball. Once, the entire family played soccer against Fletcher. He won, of course. We would have needed a lot more people to beat him. He was handy, however, for batting practice. I could pitch to one of the boys, while another one caught, and Fletcher easily and gracefully played the entire infield and outfield, retrieving any hit balls and depositing them at my feet.
Fletcher did have a few bad habits. He was relentless in his devouring of socks. It was strange, since he wasn't very food oriented at all, but socks made him lose all common sense. He also went through a money-eating phase. I remember becoming suspicious one day and prying his jaws open to find an intact five dollar bill. I also soaped a different five dollar bill found on the lawn in some dog poo one day, and managed to turn it in at the bank for a clean one. Small scraps of paper were not good to leave lying around, if you cared about what was written on them. We lost some hastily scribbled phone numbers and directions that way, and an all out search would end when someone remembered the slip of paper had been set down on some table within Fletcher's reach.
Every morning without fail, Fletcher could not think or calm down till he had his morning frisbee throw. He was slim and athletic and in shape even on the day he died. He just loved his frisbee. He taught himself how to leap and catch it, and it remained his favorite exercise throughout his life. We had to take the frisbee on dog vacations with us, so he could be happy.
Fletcher loved to travel. He loved doing anything with us. He was completely reliable when hiking, and trotted just in front or right along with us wherever we went. He would go all out on the beach, though, running along the sand, chasing gulls, playing in the waves, and stopping to roll on whatever dead or smelly fish or sea creature he saw below the high tide mark. He would have loved a dog camp, and one of my great regrets is that I never took him to one. He loved to swim, and was an accomplished and swift swimmer. That was the only downside to hiking without a leash, because if Fletcher saw the pond before you did, there would be a wet dog in the car all the way back. Fletcher did not like it when we traveled without him, though. Once the suitcases came out, he would flop down in exaggerated sadness and seem inconsolable for a long time. When I got home from any longer trip, Fletcher would leap up and try to kiss my face and cry like a little puppy. Normally Fletcher never jumped on people, and he did not lick or bark much. He didn't like to be alone, however, and the only time he ever stayed in a boarding kennel, he refused to eat. We ended up getting a dog sitter for future trips.
Fletcher's last day seemed so normal. He ate normally, caught the frisbee 5 or 6 times, and met me at the door when I got home in the evening. But unlike most days, he did not greet the boys and run joyfully after them into the rest of the house. He stayed at the door, waiting for me to come in, and walked with me into the kitchen, staying by my side. I put things down and hugged him and remarked what a wonderful and loyal boy he was. Two minutes later, he collapsed and died. A tumor on his spleen had ruptured and he was gone within 30 seconds. We raced him to the vet, but he was already departed. In the end, he spared me the agony of a long illness and a hard decision. I didn't even know he was sick.
On the table at the vet, I didn't know how to say goodbye. I whispered, "goodbye, sweet prince. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest" as I had always planned. But it wasn't enough. Fletcher was my angel. The best dog that ever lived. My astonishing baby boy, who was absolutely huge for a golden retriever, and so classically beautiful a dog that he turned heads wherever we went. But it was his soul that was most outstanding. I can only tear up and wait for my time at the Rainbow Bridge, when I'll see a golden blur run across the field and hear his little puppy cries as he leaps on me, so happy to see me at last. And then we'll never be parted again.
From 1999 to 2011, Fletcher was my best friend and best protector. Originally a birthday present from Sue and Mom, he was a forlorn puppy, huddling in a corner of his pen the day I first saw him. All his brothers and sisters had just been adopted. He was just 7 weeks old, lonely, and terribly sad. But he perked up right away. He had the classic golden retriever temperament--cheerful, fun-loving, incredibly tolerant of kids and other animals, and happy-go-lucky from sun-up to sundown. As he grew up, he had a little difficulty with the whole house-training concept. But once he got it, he was good as gold for the rest of his life. He had puppy obedience training around 6 months, but it had to be repeated later, to better success. He was a few years old and Mr. Congeniality of the dog obedience class when he went back to school. Despite being used as an example of the bad dog in class early on, he was the only dog who passed with flying colors the entire graduation test--graduating valedictorian. A barn cat had wandered onto the field during the 3 minute down stay, and that was too much for every other dog. Fletcher, however, did not get up and join the chase, though every muscle quivered and he trembled so much it was almost painful to watch. Of course, he was not mister example the day I took him to agility class a few years later, and he wrapped his leash around my chair and then took off, pulling me over and dragging me when another dog he wanted to meet came by.
The first half of fall was lovely and mild. But, sadly, we lost our beautiful 11-1/2 year old Fletcher, the golden retriever, to a tumor. We can never replace him, but we decided to give a home to a sweet little puppy, Sunny. Sunny is half golden retriever, half standard poodle--a golden doodle. She has ratcheted up the activity level around the house (and the stress level!), but she is as sweet and cute as they come.