Bourbon

This is a true story about a dog named Bourbon.  Bourbon was a Doberman Pincher.  We bought him when he was three years old, from a cousin.  Boy, what a sight he was, nothing but skin and bones.  When my mom brought Bourbon home and I saw him for the first time, I felt so sorry for him.

I was an eighteen-year-old woman, full of anger and bitterness at the world.  Even though I lost my hearing when I was twelve years old, I was still angry. Maybe in his dog mind, Bourbon felt sorry for me also, because we became best pals.  Bourbon would always go everywhere I went.  If he heard something that I didn’t, he would press against my leg so I could feel his growl.

Bourbon was a strange dog because he loved to play more than he loved being a watchdog.  Oh, he would guard the family when he had to.  My father said that Bourbon was pretending to be a cop-dog and looking for lost children, because he loved to play hide and seek with the younger kids.  I believe that deep down in his doggy heart he was wishing that he was a cop dog.

Bourbon loved to go swimming.  We would take him with us when we went camping, and every time I went into the water he would think he was a duck ... he would run and jump right into the lake.

Whenever I was angry or upset, Bourbon would do a stunt that most Doberman Pinchers wouldn’t think about, like trying to do a cartwheel, or trying to stand on his hind legs and dance.

I had Bourbon from the time he was three years old until the day he died when he was thirteen years old.  I wish I had a videotape of him.  All I have are pictures.

 
Sympathy
Riviere, Briton
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