Trike: May, 1992 - March 1, 2009

Trike effectively had a stroke on Friday night and fell asleep one last time as Adrienne and I both held him early this morning. He was almost 18 years old.

Trike was born near Chico, California in a Jack Russell breeding kennel owned by a country Vet. A teammate of mine at the time lived and worked on the grounds. I remember him talking about the puppy the Vet offered to give him. When Aaron saw the scrappiest, littlest, most aggressive of the puppies off in a corner growling, alone, he knew his new dog certainly had an attitude of his own.

Trike got his name because when he took a crap, he lifted his right rear leg as if doing the Heisman pose.

Trike completed the Wild Flower Century in a Berkeley Farms milk crate on the back of Aaron's' bike. Riding in a basket, feeling the wind flap his ears and growling at passers by was one of Trikes favorite activities.

For work, Trike guarded Aaron's tools in the back of his truck at construction sites. Trike has lived as far north as British Columbia and as far south as San Diego. When Trike moved in with us he had been kicked around, taunted and aggravated for entertainment by laborers. The first summer we had Trike he cowered under the couch while I installed windows and siding on our house. He'd nip at my boots and run away when he saw a shovel.

For the last 6+ years Trike has spent his days waiting for the mailman's daily assault on our home. Chasing his ball up and down the alley and walking to the park were his usual evening plans. He followed me where-ever I went around the house and would not sleep or eat until I was home at night. Instead he would sit in the doorway of our bedroom and growl constantly, keeping Adrienne from sleeping as well.

He napped in bed with me through both bed-ridden phases of the broken pelvis and broken hip. For the latter he would sit all day on my lap in the wheelchair as well, only waking to clean up whatever lunch scraps might fall his way.



After Adrienne's second return from the hospital post child-birth last summer, Trike saved her life. She was lying on the couch with chest pain that we were told was from the gallbladder removal. Trike kept jumping up and lying on her chest. She would push him off, back to the floor and he would run down the stairs to me, then return to repeat the process. Finally, when A collapsed in the bathroom he came to me in the basement, barking as she banged on the cabinet door to get my attention as well. In the ER we found out she had multiple pulmonary embolisms in her lungs.



Trike took to Gavin with the same protective zeal. He was patient with ear pulling and drool from Gavin. Trike would regularly give Gavin a lick on the forehead, curl up next to him and watch the door for any possible intruders. Of course the one time a Raccoon tried to come through the dogie door, Trike couldn't be bothered as he was already asleep for the night.

For the rest of March I will post pictures and stories in honor of the weirdest, most annoying, best dog I have ever had.