Joe Beartooth: My Partner in Crime
Joe Beartooth and I grew up together. We’ve been through hell and back, wreaking havoc to others along the way. After a good fourteen-year journey with me by his side, Old Joe decided to make the inevitable journey alone to wherever we creatures go when our time on earth is up. In his last days, Joe was so full of joy because I came home from college for winter break and my family said they had never seen him so excited and full of life like that in a long time. As soon as I opened the front door, I saw once again a pup so fiercely full of love and life, I almost forgot that he was stiff and full of cancer.
If you told my grandparents 15 years ago that we would soon have in our possession a Karelian Bear Dog (puppy) from Montana, they would probably wonder what kind of drug you were on. Well, soon enough that’s what happened. Now, Karelian Bear Dogs aren’t the first breed of dog you would consider for a family pet. They’re incredibly aggressive—and for good reason. In Montana, Bear Dogs are used to keep the local bear population away from the local human population and within national park property lines.
One day, my grandma decided she needed a break from the family (we aren’t that bad, I promise!) and decided to go to Montana for an indefinite amount of time. While out and about in the Beartooth Mountains, my grandmother came across a ranch that bred Karelian Bear Dogs. The owners had one little runt that they needed to get rid of because it “wasn’t aggressive enough for the job,” so they gave it to my grandma. The next day, I got to meet Joe Beartooth, the soon-to-be dumbest and smartest dog a family could ever love. From being kicked in the head by horses, to fighting off neighborhood dogs, to getting a face full of porcupine quills, Joe was a survivor. I also actually believe that biting my stepfather in the ass was the highlight of his biting career. Joe raised and protected me and I fiercely love him for that. Every day during my elementary schooling days, he would wait at the end of our gravel lane at 3:30pm to walk me home. We built forts and hunted birds in the summertime together, and for lunch, we would share a can of Vienna Sausages with slices of cheese. He knew how to give high-fives and when he laid down, he would cross his paws with an arrogant air. Joe was my partner in crime. He taught me what selfless love meant. He taught me that no matter how much you love someone/something, there will be a time that you have to let go and do what’s best for them. Because when you love them--truly love them—you can’t let them suffer.
There is a poem by Beth Norman Harris called A Dog’s Plea that sticks in my mind whenever I think of Joe:
“Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.
Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I might lick your hand between blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me learn.
Speak to me often, for your voice is the world’s sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when the sound of your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.
Please take me inside when it is cold and wet, for I am a domesticated animal, no longer accustomed to bitter elements. I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth.
Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst.
Feed me clean food that I might stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.
And, my friend, when I am very old, and I no longer enjoy good health, hearing and sight, do not make heroic efforts to keep me going. I am not having any fun.
Please see that my trusting life is taken gently so I may leave this Earth knowing with the last breath I draw that my fate was always safest in your hands.”
B.D. & Joe, Summer 2014
Farewell, Joe. You were always so good to me. Thank you for giving me the best years of your life.