His Wings Were Ready But Our Hearts Were Not
Compton loved to chew on noisy plastic bottles until we gave him what was to become his new favorite toy, the Giant Dragonfly
Compton Stories
happen-chance or Destiny?
happen-chance or Destiny?
happen-chance or Destiny?
From the beginning, Compton was Nancy’s dog. After all, she saved him from the numerous semi-trucks barreling down Alameda Street while going to meet her brother Michael, a trucker himself. With the help of a passing motorist, they lured him out of the congested street into the backseat of her car, trucks yielding graciously to the dog rescuers. He was collarless, skinny, dirty & clearly homeless.
Nancy immediately called me and asked me what to do. "Bring him home, take him to the vet and get him cleaned up". The vet was about to close when she arrived, but upon seeing his energy and joy, despite his condition, they decided to stay open and clean him up. Turns out he wasn't chipped, so we decided to adopt him. Since he was found there, we named him Compton.
The First Night
happen-chance or Destiny?
happen-chance or Destiny?
We knew Compton was special when, on his first night with us, he settled in and lay at our feet in front of the fireplace. He seemed at peace and quite comfortable in his new home. After a healthy meal, he was sacked out, enjoying the warmth of the fire with us. I'd set up a kennel in our room while he and Nancy were at the vet but he hadn't been in it or even seen it yet. Ready for bed, I turned off the TV, and Compton jumped up, ran out of the room and up the stairs ahead of us--to a part of the house he'd never seen. We went upstairs after him not knowing what he was up to, but he had disappeared. When we got to our room, we discovered him sitting at attention in the kennel! New surroundings, a new bed, a new family, yet he instinctively knew where to go and where his place was. Remarkable.
The First Day
happen-chance or Destiny?
Compton meets the pool
Nancy called me at work the next morning laughing hysterically. She was in our yard and Compton was racing around her and around a neighborhood cat that we'd adopted when we moved in a few years earlier. He was running so fast that she described it like a motorcyclist going at high speed around a corner, banking low and getting nearly horizontal doing figure eights, non-stop, over and over again! After being on the streets for what we thought must have been months, he was no longer living in despair. He was joyous with his new surroundings and it showed. His energy and enthusiasm was infectious, and Nancy voiced her pure pleasure at our good fortune. We'd hit the jackpot with this little dog and we both knew it. And it became more and more apparent each day.
Compton meets the pool
Compton meets the pool
Compton meets the pool
Compton was intrigued by our pool, but he didn't like to go into the water. When we took a jacuzzi, he would come visit us, slowly walking across the narrow wall between the jacuzzi and the pool, trying not to lose his balance. But once he did slip and he fell in. Fortunately, I was there to pull him out. He exploded in excitement and began running furiously around the yard, and of course, rolling in the dirt! He also preferred to drink pool water rather use a bowl. He'd go to the corner of the pool, spread his front legs out wide to stabilize himself--Nancy called it the Swan Dive--and then he'd stretch his neck down and forward to start drinking. It was quite funny because it was so awkward looking. Listening to him drink, I discovered an idiosyncrasy that I'd not noticed in any of my previous dogs. Compton licked in two's--lick-lick, pause, lick-lick, pause, etc. A weird but adorably cute, unique and quirky trait of our adopted little boy. "Want some water?" He'd run to the pool and go for a swan dive.
The Happy Dance
Compton meets the pool
Compton goes to work
Inevitably we had to leave him at the house when we went out with friends, and though he always had a canine companion--first Maxwell, then Kiera, then Kuma--he was a people person at heart, and he showed it when we returned. He did what we called The Happy Dance, a two-legged jump off his hind legs into the air and back down again, repeating the move rapidly, over and over again until we let him inside the house. This would be on the outside of the sliding door and then all over us once he was inside. His excitement was infectious and we felt wonderful that he was so happy to see us. We'd look forward to the Happy Dance as we made our way home, and he never disappointed. He would do The Dance when we broke out the leash for his walk too. I'd ask, "Are you ready to go?" and he'd break into The Dance. His energy and enthusiasm for life was contagious. The same way that dogs learn from us, we can learn a lot from dogs. "That's a Good Boy, Compton!"
Compton goes to work
Compton meets the pool
Compton goes to work
A few weeks after Nancy found him, she went to Hong Kong on a job interview. She was to be gone two weeks and so I had to take care of Compton. This also meant me taking him to work with me. At this point, he was Nancy's dog entirely. He'd follow her everywhere she went, like a shadow. But now we were bonded at the hip due to her absence. Still the wanderer, I kept him tied up in my office while I worked. When I had to go out onto the shop floor, he would begin barking incessantly. I'd come back, reassure him, and walk out again, only to have him bark again from separation anxiety. So I'd let him accompany me to my shop floor meetings with the crew, which amused them to no end. As time passed, he began to relax and I was able to take him off leash and give him some freedom. But every time I walked out out, he'd follow me. Sometimes I'd walk around in big circles just to watch him shadow me. By the time Nancy returned, we had bonded and he'd become my little boy.
More Stories
the morning routine
the morning routine
the morning routine
Every morning, I would take Compton to work with me. I'd get him to sit before I opened the front door, and he'd do it enthusiastically. Then he would bound out to the palm tree in front for a sniff and a pee, then make his way down the cul-d-sac, exploring and patrolling his crib. I'd go start the truck and slowly drive down after him. He'd see me coming and continue his brisk progress around the end and then back up the hill. He enjoyed the freedom and was reluctant to come get in the truck, playing a sort of cat and mouse game with me. Eventually, he'd jump up and in and off we'd go. In his copilot seat, he'd take in the sights ahead intently, like he might miss something. If he saw anything like a cat, dog or person, he would jump into the backseat and growl and bark until we passed by. His little growl would persist for a few more seconds then it was back to the copilot position. I'd warn him when we approached a turn. He'd use me as a stabilizer on left turns as he leaned into the corners to help keep his balance. It was funny to see and to feel. Lean left. Lean right. He was a really smart dog and easy to teach. "Good boy!"
my little copilot
the morning routine
the morning routine
Compton loved to go driving. He'd jump up in my truck when I opened the door and then hop on the console between the two front seats and assume the co-pilot position, surveying the road ahead even before I'd begun to drive. It didn't matter where we were or whose vehicle it was--if the door was open, he was up and inside in a flash and ready to go. One benefit of him riding with me is that I drove more slowly and carefully. I didn't want anything to happen to him, so speedy Gonzalez turned it down a notch. Once while visiting friends, my buddy left the door to the garage open as he unloaded groceries. I realized I had lost track of Compton and couldn't find him and I panicked. He was a wanderer and this was an new neighborhood. We walked up and down the street calling his name for what seemed like an eternity, to no avail. Dejected, I walked back to the house and through the garage to regroup. I glanced into the SUV as I passed and there he was, in the co-pilot's position, awaiting a driver, anxious for departure. He'd never even left the house! Relieved and amazed at our luck, we both laughed at Compton the co-pilot.
the escape artist
the morning routine
the escape artist
Before I built him his Perch, Compton would bolt out the front door any chance he got. Deliveries, visitors--anyone who rang the doorbell would be greeted by the little but ferocious barks of this 20 pound tidbit. One evening, Nancy failed to restrain him and out he went. I went out after him and was relieved to see him stop at the palm tree, but before I could nab him, he bolted up the hill towards the busy street. I panicked and put it into high gear but my body wasn't going to cooperate. I sprained my Achilles and pulled up in pain as he continued up the hill. It must have been quite a sight for commuters coming home to see a big man hobbling and yelling, "Compton! Compton!" as I chased the little uncooperative dog up the street. Fortunately, before we found him, Compton had survived on the streets and so didn't run out into traffic like other dogs might have done. When I finally caught him, I grabbed him up into my arms and limped home. The next day, I flew to Green Bay with friends to see a Packer game, limping and laughing at the thought of my little boy Compton. I needed to do something about his need to escape. So I built him a perch....
The skunk
the skunk part ii
the escape artist
My Mom's house has an under-house access which Compton discovered the first time he visited. On that visit, he happened onto a mother and her kittens. He barked and terrorized them to no end before I could coax him out. After that, every time we visited, he would go under the house to explore. A few months later, my Mom volunteered to take care of our boy while Nancy and I vacationed. One morning, she let him out and he went under the house and discovered a skunk. He got sprayed profusely. The next thing she knows, he's running back into the house, rolling on the carpet and rubbing his nose into the shag. Mom smells it immediately, but can't grab him as he's too quick. The hilarity of the situation grew as Compton now jumped onto both sofas, rolling and rubbing. Then he sprinted upstairs into Mom's room and up onto her bed, rolling and leaving the stink everywhere. She laughed out loud as she relayed the story to us upon our return. Needless to say, the smell was still there.
Asiago dog
the skunk part ii
the skunk part ii
At Compton's first Thanksgiving, Juliet served up a block of rosemary asiago cheese with crackers. By the time we sat for dinner, little of the cheese had been eaten--none of us wanted to spoil our appetites. After dinner, my nephew Ian called out to me from downstairs. "Uncle Matt. Compton's got the cheese!" Somehow, he had managed to grab this block of asiago and he had it in his mouth like a tennis ball. He couldn't figure out how to eat it so was running around eluding me as I tried to get it from him. I didn't want him get sick, but my worry was unnecessary for a dog that had survived for months on the streets. A similar thing happened when Nancy and her sister Theresa took Compton for a walk on one of the local horse trails. He spotted a road apple and it was in his mouth before the girls could stop him. He carried it for the rest of the walk, followed by a couple of giggling girls. When they came home, he ran to me and gave me a big, sloppy kiss before the ladies could warn me. Yuck!
the skunk part ii
the skunk part ii
the skunk part ii
One evening after dinner, the dogs (Kiera & Compton) were out in the yard on their nightly patrol. Suddenly, Compton comes running into the house through the doggie door looking spooked. Before we could figure out what had happened, Kiera came in and told us. Well, showed us. She had a skunk in her mouth and proudly presented the gift to us. Needless to say, our reaction wasn't a grateful one. "NO KIERA! DROP IT!" which she did. Now we had a skunk loose in the house! It looked to be an adolescent, and it was unhurt but clearly frightened. It promptly ran behind the TV cabinet, making catching it difficult. Meanwhile, the dogs rolled on their carpets, beds and our sofa. It was then that the smell became all too apparent. I told Nancy to get the dogs into the bathroom and I grabbed a broom. After opening the slider, I was able to shoo the skunk out the door. I followed it to make sure it cleared the yard and then went back inside. PEW! Nancy was in hysterics and I managed to find the humor of the situation.
More Stories
the perch
CROWS, CYCLES & SWEEPERS
CROWS, CYCLES & SWEEPERS
During the first months with us, Compton would like to escape from the yard and wander the neighborhood, which worried us both. But he had been on the streets for what we theorized was many months before we found him so it was an understandable urge. So Nancy did some research and found that there's a thing called "Little Dog Syndrome", which causes small dogs to not only wander but also to bark incessantly. Evidently, they do this because they can't see over our walls and fences, yet want to know what's going on in the outside world. So I built Compton a perch on our second floor deck which allowed him to see out into the front yard as well as up and down the street. He loved that perch and would remain up there for hours, napping, barking and watching the world go by. Sure enough, his desire to wander soon faded and he became comfortable just hanging out in our yard. The Perch did the trick--he lost his wanderlust and began to relax in his new environment. After we got Kuma, he'd go up to The Perch to avoid being pestered by her wanting to play. He discovered his own little safe space to be by himself.
CROWS, CYCLES & SWEEPERS
CROWS, CYCLES & SWEEPERS
CROWS, CYCLES & SWEEPERS
One afternoon when I arrived home, I heard Compton barking uncontrollably. But when I went outside, I couldn’t see the source of his angst. I was puzzled and also worried--nobody wants a dog who barks incessantly. It wasn’t until I watched him for a few more minutes that I noticed him raise his head to the skies, and that's when I saw them: two crows circling overhead. I don’t know what it was about crows, but he really disliked them. I thought back to my fear when I first watched The Wizard of Oz and saw the witch's flying monkies. Perhaps he had the same emotion about crows that I had about flying witch monkies. Whatever, Compton's hatred of crows became an almost daily source of amusement for Nancy and me. Perhaps he just wasn't into murder... He also barked at motorcyclists & street sweepers. Motorcyclists would laugh when he barked at them. When we'd drive pass a sweeper, he'd bark ferociously at it, probably the result of a bad memory of each. When I'd see one up ahead, I'd slow down and say, "There he is!" He'd amp up and nearly jump out the window trying to tell off that nasty street sweeper. I always got a kick out that.
play and Fetch
CROWS, CYCLES & SWEEPERS
big versus small
Before we began buying him toys, Compton would play with just about anything, but it soon became apparent he liked my socks. He'd grab them in his mouth and shake his head back and forth furiously as the ends of the sock batted him on either side of his face and head. Then he'd drop it in front of me so I'd throw it to him. He'd sit and wait patiently, never taking his eyes off the sock. Each morning, I'd lie down on the floor to stretch, and he'd bring the sock to me and drop it front of me. He was really persistent and it became difficult to get any stretching in, so I rolled onto my side, my back facing him, hoping he'd leave me alone. He was having none of that, and soon the sock came flying over me, landing in front of my face! He actually threw it to me. Literally ROTFLMAO! Then he became enamored with the tennis ball. I'd throw it across the yard and he'd race after it. I'd also throw it to him in my shop, where smooth concrete and sawdust made for a slippery slide, and he'd race after it. But I'd throw it so it would carom off the side of a machine and he'd slide right past it as it shot back towards me. Funny like the old cartoons...
big versus small
A trooper till the end
big versus small
I'd always had big dogs growing up cause I'm a big guy. I thought little dogs were dainty and goofy and I paid no attention to them, whether with a friends' family or a stray running the streets. They just did nothing for me. Then along came Compton. At first, I still felt the same, and was a bit embarrassed taking him to work or walking him. I remember one time early on, we went to Home Depot. I couldn't leave him in the truck due to his separation anxiety, so I put him on his leash and took him into the store with me. How humiliating! Big guy with a little dog in a manly store. But as we spent more time together, we bonded and enjoyed each others company more and more, and soon we became inseparable. For Christmas one year early on, Nancy bought me a Compton headcover for my driver and a six-pack of poker chips with his photo on each side. I carried one of those chips with me everyday, whether he was with me or not, and I still do to this day. It makes me feel like he's with me and it makes me smile when I feel it in my pocket or when I'm sorting my change. There he is, still with me.
Patrolling
A trooper till the end
A trooper till the end
Compton became territorial as time passed and as he became more comfortable in his new surroundings. He would bark when the doorbell rang or anybody knocked at the door--friend, mailman of delivery person. He was a great watchdog because he heard or sensed it when anyone or anything (like a UPS truck) approached. He'd bark and alert us to the arrival long before we heard anything. He would also patrol the yard, pacing the fence around our yard and make sure we were safe. "Where's Compton?" I'd ask Nancy. "He's out patrolling." Sometimes, after a patrol, he'd lay just outside the door, watching and waiting for the next big thing to happen. When he heard something, he'd jump up and run to the fence barking his little dog bark. Even more amusing, when he'd hear a siren, he'd raise his snout to the sky, stand and howl as though he was talking back to the siren. If we were driving and a firetruck or police car came by with sirens ablaze, he would wail at them from inside my truck. The first time it happened it was totally unexpected and it went on for a number of howls. Very funny.
A trooper till the end
A trooper till the end
A trooper till the end
We'd had Compton for about 7 years when the vets found the tumor. Though it was an invasive procedure, the doctor was confident she could get it all during the expected 3 hour surgery. Turns out it took far less time than she thought and they even reduced the cost as a result. This not only impressed us but it furthered our confidence in Compton's doctor and staff. He recovered quickly and was back to his old self in a week. Within a year, however, the tumor returned, so a more extensive surgery was required. Nancy and I have no kids so spending the money on our boy was never a question. Compton rallied again after the second surgery and once again, the vet thought she got it all. But his 6 month check-up revealed it had spread and this time she said flat out they couldn't get it all. In addition, both chemo and radiation would be required to get any longevity out of the procedure. We decided to let him live as happy and relaxing a life as he possibly could, foregoing another surgery. He lasted 6 months and we enjoyed every moment with him. You are sorely missed. RIP, Big Boy
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The Life of Compton
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