Memorials
Magic
A Memorial to Magic aka Pig
Magic came to us in 2015 when he was 10 years old. From the very first time he visited our home to “scope things out”, we knew he was…different. An Airedale that age is normally borderline geriatric, noticeably showing signs of aging or at least slowing down. This particular Airedale, however, was…. not.
Upon first meeting my son, Magic approached him and leapt on him. My son was sitting down on a glider and Magic immediately threw his front legs and better part of his body on his lap, hind legs planted on the floor and tail wagging furiously while his upper body swung with the glider. Sniffing, licking and slobbering were his first impression of Magic, along with a cold and wet nose leaving no stone unturned when making his initial introduction to the family.
Magic got along swimmingly with the other adult male Airedale in the house, and played with the little yippy dog like they had known each other for years. On more than one occasion (more like dozens, to be honest) – my son and I marveled at Magic’s vivaciousness and vitality, simply shaking our heads and wondering what it would have been like to know him as a puppy. The best way to phrase it, is simply to say that this dog was a HANDFUL. At 13 years old, he was more prone to incite shenanigans than most dogs a quarter of his age.
From digging through the trashcan, to rifling through a Walmart bag filled with freshly-purchased clothes (to be chewed on and savored and used in a tug-of-war, of course), Magic was never the type to ensure a dull, uneventful household. Multiple times a day, emptying the toy-basket of every single last toy to chew on, shake, thrash around and release into the air landing willy-nilly everywhere from the floor, to the lampshade, to the kitchen counter, to behind the television, to hitting the ceiling fan and ricocheting across the house – was Magic’s trademark.
When he thought it was time to eat (as in, be fed by us, not pillaging the cat food as he was known to do) or he just thought things around the house were too quiet, he would stand directly in front of us being sure to make eye contact. He would then stand there and bark, bark, bark, woof, bark, bark, woof – ears flopping around on his head, putting so much *oomf* into is that his front legs would fly up off the ground with the force of his barking….tail wagging the entire time.
My brother, an avid Scotch enthusiast, was over to the house with his family for a holiday dinner one year. His glass full of whiskey, ice and water, he was in the middle of conversation with us when he looked down to see Magic, muzzle buried in the Scotch glass, lapping up some liquid courage (not that he ever needed it!). To our consternation, entertainment and overall delight this dog slurped down almost the entire glass, wandered off and burped loud enough that we all heard it from across the yard…before throwing himself down on the ground and rolling over into his relaxation pose.
To say that Magic had an oversized personality does not do him justice – he was the most mischievously entertaining dog my son or I have ever met, and numerous friends and family members have agreed.
In my decades of keeping Airedales in my home, I have never come across such a youthful little old man as Magic. He came to us late in his life, but the few years he lived with us was nothing short of a miracle. Witnessing this dog entertain himself, break rules, and generally stir up mayhem (often at our expense, but always to our amusement) was nothing short of a pleasure. It is with a heavy heart that we said goodbye to Magic on the final day of June 2017 – one week before his thirteenth birthday. Time had finally caught up to him, and though his spirit was as youthful as ever…his body just couldn’t keep up with him anymore.
A quote from General George S. Patton, often used to discuss the passing of military service members, comes to mind – “It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.” That perfectly describes how we feel about Magic having lived with us. It is sad that he has left us, but during the time he shared our home with us it is simply a fact that he made our lives so much more fun. He was sometimes a nuisance and not afraid to nip at you when he felt threatened – but Magic was also the sweetest, most fun-loving and downright proud Airedale that I have never met. My son and I are both even bigger dog-lovers because of him, and consider ourselves blessed to have known him for the time that we did.
We will never know what it would have been like to raise him from the time he was a puppy, but we know for sure that it would have resulted in even more stories - and definitely a few extra grey hairs! The two-plus years he spent with us were filled with more than we had any right to hope for when we adopted him, and even at age 10+ he was very much a dog young in spirit, with the tales of mischief to match.
Magic… you are and will always be so, so missed – and memories of your antics will be bringing smiles to our faces for many years to come. Thank you for brightening our home – the pleasure was all ours.
Goodbye, Pig. We love you.
Magic came to us in 2015 when he was 10 years old. From the very first time he visited our home to “scope things out”, we knew he was…different. An Airedale that age is normally borderline geriatric, noticeably showing signs of aging or at least slowing down. This particular Airedale, however, was…. not.
Upon first meeting my son, Magic approached him and leapt on him. My son was sitting down on a glider and Magic immediately threw his front legs and better part of his body on his lap, hind legs planted on the floor and tail wagging furiously while his upper body swung with the glider. Sniffing, licking and slobbering were his first impression of Magic, along with a cold and wet nose leaving no stone unturned when making his initial introduction to the family.
Magic got along swimmingly with the other adult male Airedale in the house, and played with the little yippy dog like they had known each other for years. On more than one occasion (more like dozens, to be honest) – my son and I marveled at Magic’s vivaciousness and vitality, simply shaking our heads and wondering what it would have been like to know him as a puppy. The best way to phrase it, is simply to say that this dog was a HANDFUL. At 13 years old, he was more prone to incite shenanigans than most dogs a quarter of his age.
From digging through the trashcan, to rifling through a Walmart bag filled with freshly-purchased clothes (to be chewed on and savored and used in a tug-of-war, of course), Magic was never the type to ensure a dull, uneventful household. Multiple times a day, emptying the toy-basket of every single last toy to chew on, shake, thrash around and release into the air landing willy-nilly everywhere from the floor, to the lampshade, to the kitchen counter, to behind the television, to hitting the ceiling fan and ricocheting across the house – was Magic’s trademark.
When he thought it was time to eat (as in, be fed by us, not pillaging the cat food as he was known to do) or he just thought things around the house were too quiet, he would stand directly in front of us being sure to make eye contact. He would then stand there and bark, bark, bark, woof, bark, bark, woof – ears flopping around on his head, putting so much *oomf* into is that his front legs would fly up off the ground with the force of his barking….tail wagging the entire time.
My brother, an avid Scotch enthusiast, was over to the house with his family for a holiday dinner one year. His glass full of whiskey, ice and water, he was in the middle of conversation with us when he looked down to see Magic, muzzle buried in the Scotch glass, lapping up some liquid courage (not that he ever needed it!). To our consternation, entertainment and overall delight this dog slurped down almost the entire glass, wandered off and burped loud enough that we all heard it from across the yard…before throwing himself down on the ground and rolling over into his relaxation pose.
To say that Magic had an oversized personality does not do him justice – he was the most mischievously entertaining dog my son or I have ever met, and numerous friends and family members have agreed.
In my decades of keeping Airedales in my home, I have never come across such a youthful little old man as Magic. He came to us late in his life, but the few years he lived with us was nothing short of a miracle. Witnessing this dog entertain himself, break rules, and generally stir up mayhem (often at our expense, but always to our amusement) was nothing short of a pleasure. It is with a heavy heart that we said goodbye to Magic on the final day of June 2017 – one week before his thirteenth birthday. Time had finally caught up to him, and though his spirit was as youthful as ever…his body just couldn’t keep up with him anymore.
A quote from General George S. Patton, often used to discuss the passing of military service members, comes to mind – “It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.” That perfectly describes how we feel about Magic having lived with us. It is sad that he has left us, but during the time he shared our home with us it is simply a fact that he made our lives so much more fun. He was sometimes a nuisance and not afraid to nip at you when he felt threatened – but Magic was also the sweetest, most fun-loving and downright proud Airedale that I have never met. My son and I are both even bigger dog-lovers because of him, and consider ourselves blessed to have known him for the time that we did.
We will never know what it would have been like to raise him from the time he was a puppy, but we know for sure that it would have resulted in even more stories - and definitely a few extra grey hairs! The two-plus years he spent with us were filled with more than we had any right to hope for when we adopted him, and even at age 10+ he was very much a dog young in spirit, with the tales of mischief to match.
Magic… you are and will always be so, so missed – and memories of your antics will be bringing smiles to our faces for many years to come. Thank you for brightening our home – the pleasure was all ours.
Goodbye, Pig. We love you.
Murphy
Farewell, Good Friend
"A really companionable and indispensable dog is an accident of nature. You can't get it by breeding for it, and you can't buy it with money. It just happens along." ~ E. B. White
Ian Murphy a.k.a " Big Wubba," " Mur-Mur," and "Sir Mur" was indeed an indispensable dog. He came to us from Airedale Terrier Rescue of the Virginias (ATRVA) in July, 2013 and immediately made himself at home. He was a great ambassador for his breed, making several home visits for ATRVA and giving his paw of approval to future Airedale “staff.”
Wubba was all Airedale: nosy, bossy, loud, loving, obstinate and charming. No handbag or grocery bag was left unexplored, much to Mom’s chagrin during parties or book club nights at our house. The rabbits and squirrels are breathing a sigh of relief as their routines are no longer interrupted by a large “hoovering” Airedale nose on their tails. We have noticed that the squirrels are running along the back fence “highway” again without disturbance. On occasion, they stop and listen for the sounds of that bossy bark that sent squirrels and rabbits scurrying for safety under the shed or way up in a tree. The opossum, in particular, are pleased with the current state of affairs as they too now have unimpeded passage along the back fence.
Murphy loved surveying his kingdom from the back seat of the car and on the end of his leash. Car rides and daily neighborhood patrols were two duties he took seriously. Reading and depositing “pee mail” were important parts of his morning routine as was bush pooping. No bush was safe from being pooped on or plowed over in search of elusive prey.
Murphy was a “hugger,” leaning into you for a back rub, if you were judged worthy of the task. Visitors to our home knew they were “in” when Murphy nosed through their bags and then leaned in for some love. He was partial to the Boy’s back massages and would position his back right in front of Boy and then lean back so that the Boy could comfortably reach his whole back. Mur Mur was a shameless beggar for love and would offer wilting looks of disdain, complete with a sigh, if the staff cut his back rub short. He ate on a schedule, but felt compelled to challenge it at every opportunity. Restless sighs, grumbling, standing in your path and pitiful looks of a starving Airedale generally started about an hour before feeding time. If the staff laughed at his antics, he became indignant and stomped away to briefly pout. After meals, a back flop and snoring generally indicated your job was done for the moment. His best rest was achieved lying on a bed pillow that he stole from the Boy while recuperating from knee surgery in 2014. He also enjoyed his flannel blanket on those cold winter nights, but only if his ears were left uncovered. He needed to have an ear on anything that might be going on!
Sir Mur’s happy place was the beach. Last summer he learned to “snorkel” with Jerry’s help. He got his nose into the water and kept his eyes out so he could spy treasures that needed to be fished out. Murphy became a master of fishing for seaweed and his all-time favorite: dead and smelly horseshoe crabs. Nothing was better than attacking a dead horseshoe crab! The more sand he carried off the beach in his fur, the better!
He was a connoisseur of cheese, particularly sliced extra sharp cheddar and mozzarella cheese sticks. He could hear the cheese drawer in his sleep and would appear at your elbow from a sound sleep. Scrambled eggs and bacon were also delicacies not to be missed. Many weekend mornings, Mom fried bacon with Murphy’s nose stuck up in the air smelling the upcoming treat and a careful eye on Mom (just in case she kept all the bacon for herself).
Murphy passed away peacefully on March 25, 2017 with his family surrounding him and the staff from his vet's office in support. It goes without saying that he is sorely missed by his family and Lab pal, Jerry. He will be interred under a tall tree in the back yard where many squirrels reside.
"A really companionable and indispensable dog is an accident of nature. You can't get it by breeding for it, and you can't buy it with money. It just happens along." ~ E. B. White
Ian Murphy a.k.a " Big Wubba," " Mur-Mur," and "Sir Mur" was indeed an indispensable dog. He came to us from Airedale Terrier Rescue of the Virginias (ATRVA) in July, 2013 and immediately made himself at home. He was a great ambassador for his breed, making several home visits for ATRVA and giving his paw of approval to future Airedale “staff.”
Wubba was all Airedale: nosy, bossy, loud, loving, obstinate and charming. No handbag or grocery bag was left unexplored, much to Mom’s chagrin during parties or book club nights at our house. The rabbits and squirrels are breathing a sigh of relief as their routines are no longer interrupted by a large “hoovering” Airedale nose on their tails. We have noticed that the squirrels are running along the back fence “highway” again without disturbance. On occasion, they stop and listen for the sounds of that bossy bark that sent squirrels and rabbits scurrying for safety under the shed or way up in a tree. The opossum, in particular, are pleased with the current state of affairs as they too now have unimpeded passage along the back fence.
Murphy loved surveying his kingdom from the back seat of the car and on the end of his leash. Car rides and daily neighborhood patrols were two duties he took seriously. Reading and depositing “pee mail” were important parts of his morning routine as was bush pooping. No bush was safe from being pooped on or plowed over in search of elusive prey.
Murphy was a “hugger,” leaning into you for a back rub, if you were judged worthy of the task. Visitors to our home knew they were “in” when Murphy nosed through their bags and then leaned in for some love. He was partial to the Boy’s back massages and would position his back right in front of Boy and then lean back so that the Boy could comfortably reach his whole back. Mur Mur was a shameless beggar for love and would offer wilting looks of disdain, complete with a sigh, if the staff cut his back rub short. He ate on a schedule, but felt compelled to challenge it at every opportunity. Restless sighs, grumbling, standing in your path and pitiful looks of a starving Airedale generally started about an hour before feeding time. If the staff laughed at his antics, he became indignant and stomped away to briefly pout. After meals, a back flop and snoring generally indicated your job was done for the moment. His best rest was achieved lying on a bed pillow that he stole from the Boy while recuperating from knee surgery in 2014. He also enjoyed his flannel blanket on those cold winter nights, but only if his ears were left uncovered. He needed to have an ear on anything that might be going on!
Sir Mur’s happy place was the beach. Last summer he learned to “snorkel” with Jerry’s help. He got his nose into the water and kept his eyes out so he could spy treasures that needed to be fished out. Murphy became a master of fishing for seaweed and his all-time favorite: dead and smelly horseshoe crabs. Nothing was better than attacking a dead horseshoe crab! The more sand he carried off the beach in his fur, the better!
He was a connoisseur of cheese, particularly sliced extra sharp cheddar and mozzarella cheese sticks. He could hear the cheese drawer in his sleep and would appear at your elbow from a sound sleep. Scrambled eggs and bacon were also delicacies not to be missed. Many weekend mornings, Mom fried bacon with Murphy’s nose stuck up in the air smelling the upcoming treat and a careful eye on Mom (just in case she kept all the bacon for herself).
Murphy passed away peacefully on March 25, 2017 with his family surrounding him and the staff from his vet's office in support. It goes without saying that he is sorely missed by his family and Lab pal, Jerry. He will be interred under a tall tree in the back yard where many squirrels reside.
Maggie
Maggie came into my life in February of 2011. I didn’t really adopt her; I think she adopted me. When I picked her up, she jumped right into the back of the Jeep, laid down, and looked at me as if to say, “I’m ready. Let’s go home.” When we got home, she took a good look around and decided what was hers and what she would let me have. Mind you, she didn’t try to claim anything that she shouldn’t have. She seemed to know what was appropriate for her. Of course, she laid a huge claim on my heart that remains.
She was a bit underfed and underweight, but never tried to grab food away from anyone, including her canine friend and housemate Rufus (a Wire-Haired Fox Terrier). She was gentle and well-behaved. She would not get up on the furniture, even if invited. At least she wouldn’t if anyone was around. Once I came home, and Maggie wasn’t at the door to greet me. I looked around the house and found her sound asleep on the couch. When she woke up and saw me standing there, the look on her face was priceless! She looked so guilty and just slunk off the couch. It became a game between us when I came home.
Maggie was a true Airedale, to be sure. There remain a multitude of holes in the back yard to attest to that! And the games that she and Rufus played! One of their favorites was “King of the Deck.” Rufus would chase Maggie off the deck. Maggie would run down the steps and around the yard, while Rufus remained on the deck. Up the steps Maggie would bound, only to have Rufus chase here off the deck again! Self-exercising dogs!
The bond we shared was like no other. Her favorite place was always at my side or sitting or laying at my feet. She loved other people to be sure, but she owned me.
Maggie’s life was cut short by lymphoma. When it was the inevitable time, she told me so. She was a trooper to the end.
“Thank you, Maggie, for adopting me!”
Brent
She was a bit underfed and underweight, but never tried to grab food away from anyone, including her canine friend and housemate Rufus (a Wire-Haired Fox Terrier). She was gentle and well-behaved. She would not get up on the furniture, even if invited. At least she wouldn’t if anyone was around. Once I came home, and Maggie wasn’t at the door to greet me. I looked around the house and found her sound asleep on the couch. When she woke up and saw me standing there, the look on her face was priceless! She looked so guilty and just slunk off the couch. It became a game between us when I came home.
Maggie was a true Airedale, to be sure. There remain a multitude of holes in the back yard to attest to that! And the games that she and Rufus played! One of their favorites was “King of the Deck.” Rufus would chase Maggie off the deck. Maggie would run down the steps and around the yard, while Rufus remained on the deck. Up the steps Maggie would bound, only to have Rufus chase here off the deck again! Self-exercising dogs!
The bond we shared was like no other. Her favorite place was always at my side or sitting or laying at my feet. She loved other people to be sure, but she owned me.
Maggie’s life was cut short by lymphoma. When it was the inevitable time, she told me so. She was a trooper to the end.
“Thank you, Maggie, for adopting me!”
Brent
Reese
Reese was perfect so we thought, a standard Airedale about four years old. We agreed to adopt Reese, sight unseen. But you can’t have too many surprises if you’ve lived with Airedales for forty years. We all know they are perfect pooches, and how many variations can you have on perfection?
When Reese stepped out of the car, my first thought was “What is this?” It was followed immediately by “Oh, my gosh! That is the cutest dog I’ve ever seen. He should have been a movie star!” Reese would have been a perfect Ribsy or Benji or Sandy. But the film industry’s loss was my good fortune.
So Reese was a little different in appearance and a few years older, but who cared? Not my family!
We tried to feed Reese up, but he was a dainty eater. Many times, he wanted to be spoon-fed, and spoon-fed he was. He loved dainty dishes such as scrambled eggs with feta cheese, hamburgers, and lasagna. When Reese put on ten pounds, I was ecstatic. Mission accomplished!
Reese was a very anxious boy when he joined our family. He was afraid to go outside in our small, fenced-in backyard by himself. After many months, he realized we weren’t going to abandon him mysteriously while he took a potty break. Confidently, he remained outside by himself -- with the other dogs, but no human parent -- for at least five minutes. Mission accomplished, and another milestone passed.
Reese was an outstanding companion. Wherever I went, he followed me. All he wanted was love and just a little attention. During the day, if I was working in my study, he snoozed beside my desk. At night, he slept right next to the bed on my side. Reese showed us the meaning of love and faithfulness.
Reese’s passing was quiet. His illness was so peaceful that we didn’t realize he was sick until two days before he died. When he wouldn’t walk up the stairs to bed on April 9. 2010, we knew something was not right. After a trip to our caring veterinarian, we hoped our boy had many more years. However, Reese slipped away from us on April 11.
In the four years Reese was a member of our family, he taught us lessons on love, faithfulness, trust, patience, hope, and dignity. I will be forever grateful to the Airedale Rescue ladies who thought that we could provide a suitable home for such a special fellow as Reese.
When Reese stepped out of the car, my first thought was “What is this?” It was followed immediately by “Oh, my gosh! That is the cutest dog I’ve ever seen. He should have been a movie star!” Reese would have been a perfect Ribsy or Benji or Sandy. But the film industry’s loss was my good fortune.
So Reese was a little different in appearance and a few years older, but who cared? Not my family!
We tried to feed Reese up, but he was a dainty eater. Many times, he wanted to be spoon-fed, and spoon-fed he was. He loved dainty dishes such as scrambled eggs with feta cheese, hamburgers, and lasagna. When Reese put on ten pounds, I was ecstatic. Mission accomplished!
Reese was a very anxious boy when he joined our family. He was afraid to go outside in our small, fenced-in backyard by himself. After many months, he realized we weren’t going to abandon him mysteriously while he took a potty break. Confidently, he remained outside by himself -- with the other dogs, but no human parent -- for at least five minutes. Mission accomplished, and another milestone passed.
Reese was an outstanding companion. Wherever I went, he followed me. All he wanted was love and just a little attention. During the day, if I was working in my study, he snoozed beside my desk. At night, he slept right next to the bed on my side. Reese showed us the meaning of love and faithfulness.
Reese’s passing was quiet. His illness was so peaceful that we didn’t realize he was sick until two days before he died. When he wouldn’t walk up the stairs to bed on April 9. 2010, we knew something was not right. After a trip to our caring veterinarian, we hoped our boy had many more years. However, Reese slipped away from us on April 11.
In the four years Reese was a member of our family, he taught us lessons on love, faithfulness, trust, patience, hope, and dignity. I will be forever grateful to the Airedale Rescue ladies who thought that we could provide a suitable home for such a special fellow as Reese.
Holston
This was the first sign, in a list of many that showed he might be later known as: The Naughty, pomplumouse, and scrambles. And of course, his favorite things were the Walk, and The Big Nap.
Towards the last couple of months, he seemed to like me more. He would get excited when I would take him on walks, he would wait for me by the door when I got home from school, and even sleep at the foot of my bed. Or, more often, on my feet. Of course, he still napped a lot, and battled it out with Oscar for attention.
It was tough for all of us when he died over spring break. He had been a fixture, and the house seemed empty without him. One of our favorite memos from a dog cemetery in a small town was for a dog Jack Daniels. It read: he never knew he was a dog. He never cared. Holston may have known, but that didn’t matter to him. And that’s why we loved him.
Towards the last couple of months, he seemed to like me more. He would get excited when I would take him on walks, he would wait for me by the door when I got home from school, and even sleep at the foot of my bed. Or, more often, on my feet. Of course, he still napped a lot, and battled it out with Oscar for attention.
It was tough for all of us when he died over spring break. He had been a fixture, and the house seemed empty without him. One of our favorite memos from a dog cemetery in a small town was for a dog Jack Daniels. It read: he never knew he was a dog. He never cared. Holston may have known, but that didn’t matter to him. And that’s why we loved him.