His eyes opened. A discordant wall of barking and howling hits his ears. His nose fills with the putrid smell of ammonia, and rotting food. His feet slip on the floors that are so caked in feces, that the line between floor and filth is indistinguishable. Theres no food, save for day old frozen chicken, but one of his 80 siblings have gotten to it. Theres no fresh water, and his face stings from the infection that has been growing. The rot of the house, infects not just his mind, but his body.
This is how Trapper John started his life. He was found wallowing in filth, his very extended family suffered chronic cherry eye, a condition that is painful and can impact vision, bloat, a condition where the stomach fills with gas and twists quickly and painfully killing the dog, and a revolving door of infections and viruses. This is where his life began, and I am so grateful that the rest of his life was filled with love and joy.
Trapper John was rescued at just a few months old. I am pretty sure there are a few pictures of him floating around the news articles at the time. He would spend the next year housed in a warehouse that was converted to hold him, and all 84 Great Danes that were seized. A veritable army was recruited to provide care for these dogs. This is where our stories intersect. I had just begun an apprenticeship as a dog trainer. Two close friends were given a chance to go up for a day to volunteer, and asked if I would like to tag along. At the time I had no dreams of adopting a Great Dane, I thought they were so lame. I grew up with bullmastiffs, big bulky dogs, and Great Danes just did not fit the bill for me. So I thought it would be cool to meet a bunch of dogs, maybe flex some new training muscles, and generally just do some good for animals who were given a rough deal.
I spent the morning shoveling piles of shit. Seriously, do you have any idea how much poop 80 Danes make? What crossed my mind is how fun this was. Seeing the sheer volume of the operation of getting these dogs into their kennels, providing care. Being a teeny tiny cog in this machine to help these dogs was such an amazing feeling. The highlight of the morning was getting to make these enrichment bags. It was just stuffing brown paper bags with food and fun treats for the Danes to shred up. During some of the lulls, I was really drawn to one of the staff only dogs. This grandmother Dane. She was massive, a black brindle, and she had some pretty serious cherry eye. She had lived her entire life being abused, and now at the tail end of it was given the care she deserved. She made me realize that yes things are changing for them, however for many of these dogs, the wound was already rotting.
It was the afternoon, when they asked if I wanted to spend some time with one of the dogs. Obviously. I was led to a quieter section of the shelter, that was fenced in with a couch, and a collection of toys. A few moments later a young dane was introduced to me as Elvis. He was so worked up, and excited to be let loose. The moment the leash came off he began to zoom around the room. The sheer joy he expressed running around, barking, and doing a superman pose as he flew off the couch. In spite of everything he was so happy. He found joy in the rubble that was his life. Before leaving I spent a few moments by his kennel, trying to give him treats. They warned me that he was the pickiest eater. He gave me a play bow through the kennel and began running around. I left with his slobber all over my shirt.
Fast forward a year. This makes just shy of two years in the Humane Society’s care. I received the email that would change my life. The dogs were up for adoption, and if we were interested to reach out. Elvis was the top of my list of course, but I assumed that because he was basically a puppy he’d be in high demand. I was so excited and nervous that the scale of getting all 80+ dogs out probably meant they weren’t too concerned about any particular one of them getting adopted. We had lost our previous dog several years before, and it was so hard. Brandy played a huge part in our lives and losing her wasn’t easy on any of us. Opening up to a new dog is always challenging, I knew I was ready, and after convincing my mom, we devised a plan to trick my stepfather.
We had to schedule picking up Trapper several times, I was in and out of the hospital before picking him up due to a bug bite, and then a reaction to medication. Talking on the phone the second time “You are sure you want this dog?” Yes! I am literally just in the ICU trying not to die. This is where our clever ruse was discovered, and begrudgingly my stepdad learned his fate of having a random dog come into his home. He couldn’t say no while I was hooked up to every type of monitor known to medicine. The day finally came, and we drove the two hours to get back to the shelter. Walking back in the energy was so different. There were fewer dogs but you could feel the stress emanating from the dogs. After a lifetime of noise, the silence must have been an eerie feeling.
Trapper John came out, and he was not the same either. His excitable energy had been replaced with an awkward nervous energy. After several tries to get him to walk to my car, the staff picked him up. As they walked with him in their arms to my car, I tried to open the gate for them, and we all stopped. All they could see was my arm, around his neck, and they assumed I was petting him. Frustrated they kept asking me to let go of him. I looked at them and smiled and with a jolt they could finally move. It was at this point they saw the blood pouring from my hand and they realized I wasn’t holding him. Trapper had bitten me. That was our first interaction in several months.
The ride home I was excited, nervous, scared, but just so happy. He sat in the back of my car, and I kept trying to pet him (with my good hand). He just panted and looked away. I was so nervous to let him out of the car, so we backed up to the back of the fence, put three slip leads on him and let him go. Watching this giant dog walk around my yard was energizing. The fear I felt when he went to the chain-link fence in the back, and there is 0 question he could have hopped that without any effort, but he never tried. He quickly got comfortable with our space downstairs but never felt comfortable to venture to the top half of the house. We always talked at dinner that it was kind of sad that Trapper never joined us. About two months passed and finally, he made his way up stairs, and began begging at the table. From that point on we were inseparable.
Thanks to working with dogs, everyday Trapper and I got to be together, going to work, you bet Trapper was there, going to the store, well they are dog friendly so lets go for a ride buddy, going to other friends, of course they didn’t mind a 110-pound dog in their house. Our bond was unbreakable, and I planned everything around him, he was my world, and I am pretty sure I was his. The sounds his tail made when I came home, or even looked at him. The mega-sized zoomies he would do when I would run into the bedroom. We were best friends.
I have so many amazing memories, and trying to fit what fits on these pages is hard. I could fill an entire book with all of the amazing things he did. The one that feels the most Trapper John to me was on June 2nd 2020. Emily and I were celebrating our first anniversary. We began to dance to our favorite song, and Trapper John stood there and was absolutely bullshit that I was dancing with her, and he began to WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO at us until we stopped. He spent the rest of our relationship reminding Emily that I was his first and foremost.
As many of you know Trapper had a laundry list of health issues. His organs were in the wrong place, he was high risk of bloat, as he got older, wobbler’s disease, kidney disease, and Cushing’s disease all wore on him. Trapper defied death repeatedly, there have been at least four occasions were we thought we had reached the end of the road, and he bounced back with a shocking amount of vigor. Every time that puppy I met years ago would reappear even in spite of all of the problems he was beginning to have. Even towards the end of his life, he was able to take so much of his mobility challenges in stride. He learned how to communicate by grumbling when he wanted to go outside, or barking at Emily when she hugged me, she obviously forgets the previous lesson.
Trapper John to me is a dog who embodied the human-dog bond. A dog who was loyal to a fault, a dog who knew exactly what I was thinking and what I was going to think, and a dog who was content to spend time with a dork like me. Curling up on the couch we watched Re-Animator probably 20 times together. When I was sick, he would be there to muzzle punch me, and lick my face. When I was hurt, he would make sure to stay close and not bother my bad side. When I was in a crappy mood, or sad, he would just do give me a look or bark at me. How could I stay upset when he did that?
Trapper is gone now. He went peacefully Friday April 12th, 2024. His body had failed him again, and he was unable to walk, and he was in pain. I had asked him to make it to the wedding, and he did. I asked him to make it to the new house and he did. I couldn’t ask more of him, he dutifully and joyously met me there. Reconciling the pain I feel in losing my best friend with the amount of peace and joy he gave me is difficult. I know that I can draw a straight line between Trapper, and all of the good things in my life. He was the reason for my first date with Emily, he was the reason I went back to school and pushed myself to be better. I now sit in a house that was meant to be his home. I sit alone at my desk, where he would be curled up next to me to intercept Emily. As I imagine for him, the silence is unsettling, there is a pervasive wrongness that fills the air.
I have been writing this for five years. From the day he came home, I knew that our time would be far too short. He was a two-year-old Dane, from a terrible situation, there was only one logical outcome. Every day with Trapper was a gift. What has filled me with such gratitude is hearing these amazing stories about him. This one dog touched so many people. He shared his joy with the world as generously as he shared his slobber. I hope if you have a story about Trapper it brings you the same joy that it has brought to me. He filled my life with immense love, and that so many people got to share in that is the greatest gift.
I love you Trapper John, I hope that I will see you again, and know that you are with me always.
With all the love in my heart
Matt
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