We hope our readers will enjoy the heartwarming story of Charlie. Even though Charlie was not from Grand Bahama, he is very representative of our beloved Royal Bahamian Potcakes and we are pleased to share his story.

My Life as a Rescue Dog (by Charlie Scheel, late 2003 (Abaco) to Jan 29, 2015 (Oakville, Ontario))

I was one of 4 pups born in late 2003 at a garbage dump on Great Abaco Island, The Bahamas. Were it not for a caring local resident, Molly Roberts, I may not have survived a week. I don’t remember very much of my brief stay with Molly living on a beach south of Marsh Harbour. Molly found homes for a lot of us using personal contacts and the internet, whatever that is.

A Canadian family had a small vacation condo in Abaco for twenty years. Alana, the youngest, thought of it as her place. She loved the wild beach dogs and always saved some food for them. The condo was sold when Alana was 22; she wanted a memory of The Bahamas and organized getting me through Molly. She adopted me from photos and named me Tipsy.

On the day of my expected Toronto arrival with Air Canada in January, 2004, I was left behind on the tarmac at Nassau Airport. Apparently, only my papers made the flight. My expectant owners made panic calls to the Nassau airport and found that I was there in a crate. The airport night watch crew agreed to look after me. I recall eating some KFC given to me by a very kind security guard. That eased my trauma.

This is me before my trip:

I arrived the next day, 24 hours late. The travel papers and I matched and Alana, her brother, Jay, and their mom, Karla picked me up. My crate was soiled and the experience of peeing in foot deep snow was traumatic. Snow is nothing like sand.

I was taken to a vet (a ‘dogter’) for shots, parasite treatment and delousing, followed by a spa wash a few days later. There was one problem – I hated the name ‘Tipsy’.

I learned that Alana had always fed the beach strays with an old friend named Charlie who had recently died. She called his kids to see if she could rename me ‘Charlie’ in honour of their dad. Support was unanimous. So I quickly became Charlie.

My Nassau airport experience left me with a habit of watching planes until they disappeared in the horizon. I knew what they were. Also, I was neat forever and soon refused to go into the night crate Alana had waiting for me. In a few days I learned of planes, vets, crates and being neat. There was so much more to learn.

I knew my life would be different when Alana took me to dog school. The wild roaming beach parties soon became a distant memory as did my loving mom who I so much had wanted to know. Alana worked increasingly outside Toronto. In her absences, I seemed lost and then slowly started bonding with her dad, John, to the point that I followed him everywhere.

I think that prompted his need of another Bahamian rescue dog as a companion for me and so Cooper arrived in a blizzard along with four of his siblings a year later. All were pre-placed by Alana to loving homes. Cooper and I soon perfected working John over for cookies, walks and meals.

Cooper, a smaller dog than I, often daringly growled at me. Who was he kidding? I just ignored such insolence. Life was good, my true “owner”, Alana, would come by often and Cooper and I easily settled in as family dogs with overlapping owners. We all got along with maybe John serving as Alpha Dog.

Each of my owners had a special relationship with each of us, and we, vice versa with them. We were accepted as equals although Cooper and I were so very different and not even related. He was over 40% a Shar Pei while I was about 35% Weimaraner. I grew to 89 pounds of abs and muscle. Cooper hit a flabby 69 pounds.

Over the years I became the signature of the household. I met all visitors with a soft ‘woof’ on arrival and wished them well on their departure. Unknown to me, I performed at the door like a Walmart greeter. It was my way of saying that this was a good home and that the people in here were really nice, especially to wayward rescue pooches like us. I was very proud of a rubber fish shaped squeegee toy that I played with my feet like an accordion while howling like a wolf at the same time. I even managed to alternate paws. My owners and their guests cracked up. I smiled after those performances.

I had dozens of toys to play with and some to cuddle with; some became pillows and I would carry toys randomly all over the house. At times Karla threw them to the basement and I would slowly bring my favourite ones back upstairs until everyone was tripping on them again. Cooper never appreciated a single toy, just food. He was very basic in his needs and enjoyments. With food, Cooper rarely breathed. It didn’t matter what was on the menu, he rarely tasted it. Me, I sniffed it, tasted it lightly, picked at interesting parts and always left a little in the bowl maybe to share with a Bahamian left behind. After every meal, I thanked whoever fed me with a fast nuzzle on their leg.

Over time, I became quite smart and developed a human listening vocabulary of about 300 words. I always learned more by overhearing human conversations and began to understand the difference between past, present and future. When John would say ‘Alana or Jay is coming’ I barked and then waited at the front door. The slightest mention of ‘bath’ caused me to run to an upstairs tub and climb in; I liked being clean and lying by a fireplace later to dry off. Cooper, to be different, ran to hide in the basement or outside behind some evergreens.

‘Brush’ meant getting combed so I ran out to the deck. ‘Food’ meant let’s gather in the kitchen to check the menu. I learned mostly of the 4 letter words like ‘home’, ‘walk’ and ‘wait’ but I knew some 3 (‘run’) and 5 (‘nails’) letter words as well. My owners got to know some of my own words too. We communicated easily. Verbally Cooper was in his own world of words but we loved him all the same.

What did I learn? Above all, there was mutual unquestioned love, trust, respect and friendship. Never, ever, were those bonds between us doubted. We extended these expectations to other humans and their dogs, although there were some bad dogs from time to time. Twice I had to step in between Cooper and a larger dog that was attacking him. We were never mistreated by any humans. And in return, I never even growled at a human although Cooper once bit a house guest. For that he served time locked up in a powder room for an hour. Shameful conduct!

When I was about 4 we moved from our large downtown house and yard to a townhouse as part of a downsizing exercise, whatever that meant. For Cooper and I this was a great change which took getting used to because our walks were soon taking place in some pretty wild nature areas – not concrete sidewalks among 100’s of humans, cars, buildings and very few trees. We loved the change.

Sometimes John let us loose to snoop around and several times I took off after a deer or coyote. I knew they were in the area because my nose found them long before I ever saw them. Did they have owners like me? We got along with so many wild animals in our neighbourhood. Some we saw in our backyard, others on walks in the nearby green spaces. Unfortunately, Cooper did kill a couple of rabbits that got too close to him.

I regarded the deer, coyotes, raccoons, ducks, geese, frogs and rabbits as my friends. But garter snakes always spooked me. I learned to go far off paths to poop so my owners would not have to scoop up. Peeing was different and any grass tuft or brush or tree was fair game. I never peed where Cooper peed and he peed 3 times as much as I did. I guess we were marking our new found territory.

I was keen but cautious. I was wary by nature and always approached new situations carefully with short warning barks. I had to know where all my owners were in the house and always nosed open bathroom doors when the occupant was taking too long in there. When John worked with an electric tool, I would sit snuggling beside him wanting to help.

Smelling grocery bags coming into the house was important as was sniffing my owners to see if they had been disloyal with other dogs. Car rides were fun; I never slept no matter how far we went and always nudged John’s shoulder or head just to show my interest. New destinations needed a thorough careful reconnaissance on arrival – one never knows! In a way I was always a bit on edge and never allowed myself to lie on my back to expose weakness or subordination. I needed to understand my environment.

I did all the expected dog things including tricks both for my amusement and for my owners. I could do a one paw or a two paw handshake or stand at bank or pet food store counters waiting for treats. I had strict evening rituals and refrained from getting petted then. Getting to REM sleep state took time but when I got there my feet would run and I would grunt, all with a smile on my face. I sometimes snoozed on Cooper’s bed but he never dared to try out mine. Subtle Alpha Dog stuff was necessary at times. Ten happy years sped by with so many new things to try and experience. Cooper always tagged along but never caught on as much as I did.

Here I am in 2010 with Cooper on a fishing trip. I retained some Bahamian quirks. For example, I rarely lay in the sun much preferring the shade. I even went further and dug cooling pits in soft earth in shady parts of John’s garden. I don’t think he liked that but he never complained.

In Abaco we had run on Molly’s huge ocean beach in mixed packs of small, medium and big dogs of all colours and I did the same at some Oakville dog parks where I was one of the fastest dogs until a greyhound showed up. That was an ego buster. The biggest problem at these dog conventions was finding Cooper who dawdled and usually wandered off by himself. He seemed to be a loner and was happy by himself. We were so different and yet very close.

Heritage was very important to us. We were Bahamian ambassadors for those of us still awaiting adoption.

There were some downs in our lives. Everything was not always rosy. Both I and Cooper caught a strange virus which got us to the vets for intravenous fluids and antibiotics. I overheard that the cause was the rabbit poop we ate! We also had major skin rashes, Cooper ended up at dog emergency with a digestive disorder and I had my testicles and a growth around my anus removed when I was 10. My thyroid needed daily ‘medicine’, a long word that I knew well.

My owners were always concerned. John also had some health problems and I loved him back through prostate cancer, radiation, many colon cauterizing procedures, kidney stones, a blocked bladder, a heart stent, a fractured pelvis and mild diabetes. I sensed his needs and hope I helped. He hugged me a lot so I knew I was appreciated.

About two years ago on one of my fast runs I think I ruptured a heart valve. All of a sudden I was out of energy and had no desire to run. I would stop to rest on simple walks. Playing with other dogs was no longer fun. My good Labrador friend, Spencer, who had a $6000 knee reconstruction disappeared without an explanation. I got sad for the first time since leaving Abaco as I felt I was letting my owners down somehow.

They, too, sensed a change. Six months ago I almost choked on some very heavy white mucous which the vet said was due to congestive heart failure. There were grave concerns and I was given many pills which did do a lot of good. I began to feel better although I was now peeing every 2 hours because lasix, one of the pills, was a diuretic.

John had to get me up several times a night so I would not wet my bed. I was aging fast and it was so frustrating to know all the things I used to do were no longer possible. We did our best but with a cloud over all of us. I overheard that I could die, whatever that was.

I was getting prematurely old in late 2014:

On January 28, 2015, a human date, I had a tasty dinner of sardines over kibble and felt fine until about 8PM when something happened. My breathing and heart started racing, I could not sit or lie down and I started pacing. I was drooling; I threw up and then pooped on my bed – so embarrassing. I didn’t want my owners to see me like this because I always kept my dignity and aloofness.

I tried to stay outside in minus 15C temperatures and I even lay down in the deep snow trying to get rid of pain and calm down my organs, all of which were in a mess. John managed to carry me into the house where I cuddled with him and then Karla, each for maybe 15 minutes. This was so important for me.

I kept closing my eyes and tried to relax, not knowing what was happening. My mind was everywhere, in The Bahamas, wondering about my mother, thinking of Cooper and of Molly, my first owner, of the waste water run-off pond I knew so well from thousands of walks, of Alana and of my many human and dog friends. So much confusion and no experience on which to rely!

John and I drove to the vet’s where we had been so often recently. Outside one of the examining rooms, I stepped on the scale as always but hesitatingly because I sensed there was no purpose. I weighed just 69.2 pounds. I walked into the little room with John’s coaxing.

They brought a large bright red fluffy blanket and I settled on it right away. I put my head on a paw and stretched out with my hind feet sideways. I was so tired. My eyes were closed. John snuggled beside me and put his arm under my head with his chest pushed lightly onto my side. I kept my eyes closed. My breathing slowed considerably as John stroked my head and body.

The doctor came in and gave me a sedative shot in the shoulder. I did not flinch at all. About 2 minutes later she started shaving a rear leg and then gave me another needle. Again I was calm. John was hugging me and sobbing. I felt warm on the blanket.

My last thought was that I wanted my owners to remember my nice smell and be happy for all the time we knew and loved each other. My physical heart stopped in about 10 beats. My other heart never will.

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