It's just a dog.

[old goat]

We may get love, respect, laughs, grief from our families. Dogs just make us happy. Until one day they don't.
Good dog, Bella.

[tango uniform]

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[KQ]

[liv2ski]

I sure hope I get to see them all again someday. Sorry for your loss Powdrhound. You gave Bella the best life. RIP Bella...

[garyfromterrace]

So sorry powdrhound, you were the best dad she could hope for man. What a good doggie and buddy she must have been. RIP Bella.

I lost a damn fine adventure buddy. A few days ago now my pal Tomba left this plane to go chase more rabbits and deer. We first met in 2012, and lived together for a year and a half when I was in Calgary. He did his first tour with me, and also his last back a couple of years ago at Arolla. Fittingly, it was a short day as he was getting up in age even back then and we capped off lounging around a beautiful little hut eating Raclette and basking in the sun. I wrote this little obit for him to share with his parents and friends.

Tomba

You’ve possibly heard the term “renaissance man”, but I’m betting you’ve never heard the term “renaissance dog” before. That’s because: 1) I just made it up in trying to describe one of the greatest dogs ever and, 2) you’ve probably never met Tomba. If you are one of the lucky folks that did happen to meet this big lug, then you understand.

Tomba was a big, black, beautiful guy. I’d say a buck ten if he was an oz. They say he was black lab and maybe Cane Corso, that made sense. He loved chasing rabbits and deer (never coming close I might add), the thrill of the chase was strong with this one. An ordinarily absolute chill dude in every other social situation (why else was he the favorite of every waiter he met?). Did he care that the ill-behaved seventy-five pound punk dog was yipping at him? No, he was the bigger dog (physically most of the time, but mentally, all of the time). Walking with Tomba, with the exception of in a rabbit field, was generally a mellow pleasure. The big lummox made friends with all who wanted to stop and pet him. He would revert to a puppy with chosen dogs (not every dog made his list) well into his tweens. It was hilarious.

He grew up in the mountains of Invermere and came of age in the mountains, bars & restaurants of Innsbruck. He lived in two provinces, three countries (Canada, Austria, Germany) and travelled through seven. As much at home in a fine restaurant, a beer garden or pizza house, traipsing through streams and over mountains, ripping down a bike trail in Invermere or a spring ski run in the Swiss Alps. That glorious big beast was “at home” wherever he went.

Tomba (luckily) entered my life purely by circumstance. His mom, Charlotte, was going to South Korea for a stint and asked if we could look after him for six months. Hell yes! The six months became a year. To Vivian and my great pleasure of course. We had a chance to take him ski touring for his first time, and of course he was right at home. He became my bike buddy ripping up a little line down Scotsman’s hill after work daily that glorious summer in Calgary. And then it was to the swimming hole. Would I have done scores of swims out to the little island where the Bow meets the Elbow if not for my inner-city adventure buddy? No, probably not, but Tomba was of course, at home in the moving water. I’m positive we did a man-dog mental connection the first time we crossed the Elbow and were in the full current of the Bow. We exchanged a glance that transcended the species, and it was “ok, let’s not fuck this up”.

Tomba knew when to stop as well. Proving that he was a better ski-mountaineer than I was, he stopped about a hundred metres or so from the top of a slope I was skinning up and across near Mt. Sir Robert in Kananaskis Country. As he sat there and waited, looking at me like I was an idiot for going farther than his spot, I slipped and fell about 30 vertical metres below the skin trail. He kept looking at me as I dusted myself off, and my partners and I laboriously skied to the saddle. All the while Tomba was quite happy to just wait for us at his own “high point”. I know he was judging me there. The ski down as always was great fun and I distinctly remember looking back at him knowing that he was doing what he loved and I reveled in the connection of skier and man’s best friend ripping down a slope together. Free.

As much as he was a sporty big lout, Tomba really knew how to cuddle. I’m happy to say he totally pushed me into both the dogs-sleep-on-the-bed camp and the couches-are-made-for-dogs team. Another testament to his demeaner and worldliness was the ability of this large dog to disappear under a table in a restaurant and be no bother to anyone. Of course, when an impressed waiter would bring a morsel from the kitchen (imagine if you will, that this is in a restaurant in Italy once they learned his name was Tomba) he would come out of his below table den and very gently take his offering. A sacred offering to Dog.

Tomba very gracefully morphed into old age in Bavaria still doing what he loved to do. His Mom and Dad (Vivian’s daughter Charlotte and husband Oli) kept him vibrant and engaged and deserve high praise keeping his quality of life super high sometimes at the expense of other things in their busy life. His outings gradually tapered off to lower intensity, but he was still keen and he was so loved by any and all of his newest pack in Munich. Not the least of which was little Kira, Charlotte & Oli’s daughter). Although witnessing from afar it appeared the gracious Tomba morphed into a big, black, loving, stuffed toy and was the ultimate first pet for little Kira!

Today was a truly sad day, and I cannot imagine what Charlotte and Oli are going through. Thank you both for being with him, laying down with him, and holding him as he took off on his next adventure, albeit not on this plane. You’re the best dog parents any pup could ask for.
I know all of us who knew Tomba wish we had more time with him. But, I think it was his time. I’m positive that if one could have conversed with that dog among dogs, he would have said “let me go, and remember me for the dog I was”. I will Tomba. Thanks for making me cry again baby zubu, thanks for being such a great dog for all of us. What a good boy.


Tomba's first ski tour


Tomba and I at Hero's Knob in K country west of cowtown


Tomba says stay. I go. Tomba was right.




Tomba enjoying Robertson Glacier in K Country


K Country in the dog days of summer


Nothing finer than a beach day with Tomba in Italy.


Although Tomba was a Renaissance dog, he was after all, a dog. Here he his proving this point in Cinque Terra, IT.


He loved water. Salt, fresh, it just didn't matter. Here he is in Croatia.


Portrait of big, beautiful, friendly, happy boy. We'll all miss you buddy.

[Norseman]

Beautiful, Gary. Thanks for sharing the tribute.

[liv2ski]

Tomba had a better life than most people. Just what a good boy deserves.

[stapes]

Damn Gary. So sorry.

It’s dusty in here this morning….

3 months after we put down Bea and my wife and I seem to be missing her more than ever lately.

[Timberridge]

Condolences Gary. Looked like a well-traveled and happy dog.

[skiJ]

Beautiful, Gary. Thanks for sharing the tribute.

+ 1. Condolences, Gary.

skiJ

[bendtheski]

Sorry for your loss Gary, looks like you helped Tomba live his best life, and vice versa.


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[powdrhound]

I believe that this is the first published canine obituary that I have encountered.
Sasha was loved.

[TNKen]

Gary, sorry for your loss.

[waxman]

Well fuck, today my lab cross went over the rainbow bridge after a short bout with cancer/old age issues (14yo). She was an awesome shop dog, although semi-retired for the last 2 or so years. She "rode" every trail in the Fernie area multiple times and was good for 30KM+ rides when she was younger. Never complained about anything. Never growled at the "don't worry he's friendly" type dogs you run into on walks. Great with my kids from the time they were 2 and 4. For the last 2 years she put up with my wife's Cavalier King Charles with no issues.
I never want another dog. Ever.

https://www.facebook.com/jay.carter....eric&ref=notif

[::: :::]

RIP Tomba & your lab cross

Peace, Gary & Waxman

[Art Shirk]

I’m sorry waxman


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[Choss Jonger, Sr.]

Dalmation dog, or possibly Dalmation-anvil mix, Sacha , 14, wingmanned me on many of my missions to impregnate his mother this summer. He passed most peaceful in his person’s embrace Wednesday the 16th of November shortly after 2 in the afternoon.

I protected his owner, the mother of my child-to-be, from any unpleasant sights of his lifeless being in transit from where he passed. I kept his limp 75lb form dignified and well honored from packaging and wheeling him out, to carefully setting him to rest in the vet’s vehicle.

Tomorrow, Chaco, my family’s 14yo 55lb Pittski will cross into the beyond. She can no longer eat. Hardly drinks water, her vet says that dog’s pancreas (wtf does that even mean? But…not my dog) is done. She still looks beautiful, sitting with young tom cat perched on a stool above premourning the loss of his best friend. 1PM MTN time tomorrow. Tears finally coming on this one now for me.

Chaco and I jogged the 38 mi Knowles Mee loop on maybe the first anniversary of the Boston Marathon atrocity. She had already has surgery and metal put in prior to that. Badass b, that sweet blue-eyed Huskie-breed 1/8th-Akita ruffed carmel and cream coat. But that dog, that badass scary looking serial killer blue eyed Pitt-Huskie-Akita thing that chased me down the canyons and across the ledges and hopped the crick all day and then refused to cuddle in the cold air’s night for my first unplanned bivvy….that doggie is gone and she looks to be ready as the pain is heavy with her.

Chaco belongs to my extended family and when she goes, only my dearest old man, best companion and kindred being, daemon and fellow seeker, boldest follower of the raggedest ledgiest scrappiest trails and sheeproutes and slots - have you ever seen a canid stem?!! - happiest-jack on the warm sunny tours, ladykiller charm, nose-in-crotch-for-crotch-tap-std-check, stream-slopping-joy-sprayingest manure-eating-est, deafest old Zappa-dog…only 14 yo Zappa dog is gonna remain.

I expect to get another 14 outta him, slick little 45 lb heeler-border collie mutt….at least I dare to hope he makes it to meet the new human in the family. He loves family.



Too much of a luddite in my grief to add pics but I will, just to prove for the skeptics that I am indeed in a few fairly amusing-to-others (semi-intentionally) self-induced intersecting tight spots.

Brash men have old dogs too. HS sweetheart making baby had old dog too.


Pat your pets and give grace to your people, people.

[skifishbum]

sip poured outta the water bowl and a tear shed for them rainbow bridge bound mag furkids.

[garyfromterrace]

Take care choss jonger and waxman. May your dog buddies RIP.

[Core Shot]

[liv2ski]

As it should be for all the good dogs. RIP Sacha and Chaco

[Art Shirk]

It’s just a dog. Just a dog who has spent the last 16.5 years as a loyal friend and savior during some of my hardest times. It didn’t matter where I was going, she was going with me. Having no doors on your truck meant she could bound in any time. Then, I got married, I got doors, and I had kids. And she didn’t get to come to as many places so her places were pacing from one kids room to another all night keeping watch. Spending an hour at each door before moving to the next job.

You used to have springs for legs and now they can barely support your weight. You can’t control your bowels and I know how humiliating it is for you to have to wear diapers. But you get to cross the bridge on Thursday and I’ll be right next to you when you do.

Of course, I snapped two of my fucking toes in half two days ago so I’ve got to figure out how to dig that hole in the corner of the property. Fuck. That’s not a job for a neighbor so I’ll get it done if I have to use my hands.




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[Buzzworthy]

So sorry to hear your buddy is on his way. That feeling on Thursday, it hurts so damn much.

[liv2ski]

Sorry Art. What is your girls name?

[stapes]

Damn Art. So sorry. Sounds like she had a great life.