The pain of losing Banjo was more than one can imagine. Banjo was no ordinary dog. Banjo was unique. I have never met another dog like him and I don't expect to again. His intelligence was nothing short of astounding and it made him an extremely complex individual. Had Banjo had offspring, he might have been considered a canine evolutionary milestone. Banjo was a thinker with a capacity to reason not normally considered part of his species. This at times made him moody as he would ponder his situation, particularly when he was bored. Yet, his eyes, constantly darting around, searching for input, even with his head to the ground belied an extreme intelligence and curiosity about his environment, and his mood and mine. He could look at you and see into your soul, and thereby you into his. His ability to understand operated at almost a telepathic level.
Banjo had such a regal stature. He could easily have been a show
dog, holding himself in a posture as proud as any dog in a king's
court. His beauty brought attention from nearly anyone who saw
him. Once we exchanged phone numbers with a couple that had a
very nice looking female golden. They were very upset when we
decided to have Banjo neutered - but we did so to improve the
quality of his life, and because we believed that with all of the
homeless dogs, it made no sense to bring more puppies into the
world.
Banjo never needed any formal training. He was self educated for the most part, taking his cues from the subtleties of our interaction. He potty trained himself quite rapidly. He learned how to use a doggie door with little input from me - it was quite apparent to him. And yet he would expand on the intuitive knowledge with experimentation to figure things out. Although he understood the doggie door concept quickly, he wasn't content with that. He had to figure out how to bring a stuffed toy, at that time approximately the same size as he, in and out through the door. He taught himself to push it in front of him.
He never needed to be on a leash, although for
his own safety at times we would use one. Several years ago, just
for fun, we took Banjo to an obedience training class - not
because he needed it, but because we thought he'd get a kick out
of it. And he did. It was all so easy for him, that the
instructor singled him out and used him as an example for the
other participants.
I could take Banjo anywhere. He was equally at home by my feet at
the sidewalk café, at friends' houses, (he loved the attention
he got at parties) at the beach, in the car at the bank drive
through (expecting a treat of course), on long trips, etc. He
always responded to my voice, and always tried to understand what
I wanted.
Banjo certainly had a light side and was the ultimate show off. At a fairly young age, he decided that stuffing as many toys into his mouth at once was quite a feat, and he would use it to show off. He was able to get up to 4 tennis balls into his mouth at once - something we did not teach him to do, and he would do this, particularly when there was an audience of people, so he could strut around and show everyone how proud he was of himself. |
He would walk around, swishing his tail end,
quite the prima donna, knowing he was pretty hot stuff. He also
delighted in stealing toys from Sutter, my older (and mentally
quite a bit slower) golden. Sometimes he would have a couple of
stuffed toys in his mouth and one or two balls. He was even able
to hold a large softball and two tennis balls on the side, his
thin jowels expanding to hold them all.
Banjo would pick up toys to show off. He would also do it to get
attention when he was scared. If I batted a mosquito against the
wall, he would get very agitated and pick up a bunch of toys and
start bugging me with them. If he did something wrong, like grab
a piece of food out of my hand so quickly that my hand got nipped
in the process, he would pick up a toy and start walking around
with it while breathing hard. Thus, the toys were objects that
Banjo could transfer emotional outlet to - in fun, fear, and
folly. He particularly liked to be chased when he carried toys.
Out in the front yard, we'd chase him all around, while he
cleverly eluded us by quickly changing direction and running past
us. In the house, he'd love to be chased from room to room,
easily outsmarting us as we changed direction or our running
pattern.
I remember the day, quite vividly, when I took him home. I wasn't
even certain I wanted another dog at the time - it had been only
a little over a year since Brandy, my previous golden retriever
had died. As a surprise gift, I was driven out to Chico
California in the Sierra foothills to Pat and Robert Littell's
house - their dog Cleo had puppies, one had been reserved for me.
When we got there, the house was filled with golden retriever
puppies, running all over the place, peeing on the carpet,
napping, crawling over each other, etc. The Littels were great
since they didn't care - they loved their dog and they loved
those puppies.
While playing with the puppies, there was one that stood out, and
it wasn't the one that had been selected for me. One puppy, a
little darker than the rest, was extremely friendly and came
right up to me and started chewing on my finger. The other one
that had been earmarked for me acted fairly disinterested by
comparison. I decided right there that "Bud" as he had
been called up to that point, was for me and the Littels agreed
to the substitution. We were told that Banjo had been the first
puppy out of the weaning box - the first one interested in
exploring his new world. He was curious, energetic, and obviously
very smart. But his intelligence and ability to bond would
continue to grow as rapidly as he did, until it was nothing short
of remarkable.
On the way home, we stopped by the side of the road to see if we
could get him to relieve himself. As if he were a much older dog,
he did so, almost on cue from us. We then climbed back into the
car, already amazed at this little 3 month old genius, and
continued the long drive home.
The first night, concerned about his lack of potty training, we
made up a bed in the kitchen and closed the door. He cried so,
being left alone for the first time in his life, that we couldn't
stand it, and we went and got him and brought him into the
bedroom. There was a small space, only a few inches, between the
headboard of our bed, and the wall. He promptly squeezed into
that space, which was secure (and difficult to reach should we
change our minds) yet very close to us, and went to sleep. We let
him sleep back there from then on, until he got too big to fit.
During the day while at work we did have to leave him in the
kitchen, but he had access to the back yard once we put in the
dog door (which he quickly learned how to use). The kitchen was
somewhat unfinished, with the linoleum exposed on the edges where
it curled up against each wall. One day we returned to discover
that Banjo had figured out how to grab an edge of linoleum and
rip it across the floor. He had pulled up huge strips of
linoleum, completely destroying most of the kitchen floor. Served
us right for leaving him all day.
He also destroyed a couch. Well, it was an old couch so we didn't
care that much. But he figured out how to start a hole in the
middle of it and gradually helped himself to most of the
stuffing. Eventually we moved the couch out to the back yard
where he could continue to work it over.
I remember taking him and Sutter on walks up into the Richmond
Hills. Banjo unlike our older dog Sutter, never needed a leash.
We would walk until we came across cows that were grazing. Banjo
was always curious about the cows, yet sensing my apprehension,
kept his distance. Sometimes he would charge up the side of a
hill, particularly if there were pinecones to look for. Sometimes
I would toss pinecones down the hill, and let him take off at
high speed to find and return them.
Banjo was a pacifist. He was never in a dogfight in his whole
life. Not that he couldn't defend himself - as a large healthy
Golden Retriever he presumably could have, yet he chose not to,
always turning his back on any kind of aggression. This
invariably took the wind out of any other dog's sails - perhaps a
good lesson for us all.
Banjo was great on trips, and we tried to take a lot of them. He
loved the beach and while in California we tried to get to one as
often as we could. There were cabins we rented in northern Sonoma
County a number of times, across the road from the beach. We
would take the dogs down to the beach where they could play with
long pieces of seaweed and run in the surf. We took him to the
mountains as well - he loved the snow and the back country.
Once, at the Russian River in Sonoma County
California, we stopped at a restaurant to have dinner. After a
while, we heard people laughing and pointing out the window. A
car horn was also honking. We went to look and it was Banjo
sitting in the front seat of our car, with his paw on the horn.
Once, he fell asleep sprawled across the bed in a motel and we
didn't have the heart to wake him so we slept on the floor the
rest of the night.
After moving to Oregon, life on the farm was fun for Banjo when
he was outside. When one of us worked out in the garden or
greenhouse, Banjo learned to look for gophers. He soon realized
that simply digging for the gopher was too time consuming, he
decided it was faster to use his mouth to churn up the ground. He
would put his nose into the gopher hole, hold it there and take a
number of deep breaths to pick up the scent. Then he would grab
the edge of the hole with his mouth and rip the ground up,
alternately digging and ripping dirt out with his mouth.
Ultimately his mouth would be full of dirt and his tongue black
before he would give up.
He also loved to chase squirrels. He once saw that a squirrel was
hiding out in the wood pile so each time we went out, he made a
beeline for that woodpile. Then he would head for the well house
where he had also seen a squirrel go. It didn't matter how much
time passed between the time the squirrel was first spotted, he'd
know exactly where he wanted to go. Champoeg State Park was a
favorite of his - particularly because of the squirrel
population.
There are a great many things about Banjo I will miss. Here are
but a few:
The way he put his head on my shoulder when he was riding behind me in the car
The way he huffed when I would chase him around when he had a stuffed toy in his mouth.
Picking up a rock when he was excited. He sometimes brought rocks from our gravel driveway into the house.
Playing at the beach: tossing a stick or a ball into the water. Playing with other dogs who's owners were throwing toys into the water.
The way he would lie down when another dog was approaching and wait until the dog got close, then at the last minute get up and check the dog out.
Begging for bread. Some called him "the bread dog" since he loved bread so. When I'm sitting at the table, the way he put his head in my lap as a subtle way to beg.
Pretending to chase him around the kitchen when he had a mouth full of toys
The way his eyes would look around, even when he was at rest with his head on the ground, ever alert and deep in thought.