Requiem for Nookie

Minds out of the gutter, folks, this is not a salute to promiscuity but rather a tribute to an old friend of mine who passed away yesterday. His name was Nookie, he was a scruffy black terrier/schnauzer mix, descendent of a thousand breeds. My good friend Sherry adopted him twelve years ago after he followed her wandering in the street from his previous untold existence. She gave him the moniker "Nookie" after his repeated attempts to mount any other dog he encountered. This activity, actually a conventional canine act of dominance, was his signature behavior.

Not many obituaries are written for dogs. Given how much they contribute to our lives, how they become de facto family members, eternal children with an unlimited capacity for love and loyalty, not honoring them in Memorium seems inhumanely negligent. There will be no funeral oration for Nookie, whose remains will be cremated and then kept in an urn by his guardian. But for the happiness his existence imparted upon Sherry and the rest of us he deserves at least this much recognition.

Nookie was a very feisty little fellow, not above a scuffle with a larger dog who would apparently threaten him or his mistress. His aggressive nature evolved from his early life struggles to survive, so common among found street dogs. He even had one or two human bite victims among his tussle partners. To a certain extent Nookie was what we would call many decades back a "juvenile delinquent." But as he aged and mellowed his capacity and need for love emerged as genuinely as in any pooch, and he fell comfortably into the role of lapdog.

It was my role to babysit Nookie when my friend went off on trips, so for long stretches, even a few weeks, he would become a de facto member of my family, sharing food and sustenance with my own dog, Josie. His visits would be marked by subtle territorial battles with Josie, most of which he would win. Traditionally I would have to scuttle all of Josie's toys because of Nookie's predilection to eat them through until he found the creamy foam center. And rarely a visit went by when he didn't, uh, consecrate my carpet with some personal deposit. But I got used to his quirks and we easily came to terms with each other. Then I would sit back and laugh while watching Nookie's unending attempts to mount Josie, who would coquettishly escape from his clutches in apparent indifference to his advances. Even cuter were his similar mountings of Sherry's cat Louis, a giant white hair ball twice Nookie's size. Nookie would hump away until Louis suddenly turned around to slap Nookie's face with his paw. Funniest thing I've seen since "South Park."

I got to say goodbye to Nookie as his lifeless body lay in his bed before delivery to the vet. It was an emotional moment for me, as I had also bonded with him over the years, and was surprised how moved I was at his passing. I gazed at his stiff corpse and still expressive face, contemplating the life force that had simply vanished, and my thoughts turned metaphysical for a moment. I expressed a wish to him that there really was a Doggie Heaven, though that possibility does not fit comfortably into my naturalistic atheism. Then I comforted myself with the thought that his last twelve years had been lived in Doggie Heaven, which is the home of a loving human, and that his passing, which had been expected, came after a long and satisfying life.

I have said and will say again, in the realm of nature, there is nothing more beautiful than the tie between humans and dogs, the perfect symbiotic relationship. Their simple needs and contributions to our lives represent everything positive; they are a truly honorable species. Nookie Boy, we thank you.