Taz.
His name was Taz. Exactly what kind of dog would merit a name like that? He obviously would be unpredictable, like the cartoon Taz. Sweet one second and a raging lunatic the next. A crazy looking, furry tornado personality on four paws.Yep, that was our Tazman.
Taz the Wonder Dog as we nicknamed him, rescued us in February of 2000. We knew we had met our match when he loaded himself into the car...into the front seat to be exact, and refused to demote himself to the back seat. Taz was a larger than life ball of 100% pure attitude. He loved a good argument, never content with the outcome unless he managed to get the last word, or “Woof!” in. When things got to be too quiet around the house, he would instigate some mischief to stir things up. Anyone new to visiting would be taken aback at the sight of a small, delirious bear charging at them. They were always relieved to know it was just a Taz looking for a friend to scratch his butt. As much as a tough guy that Taz thought he was, in actuality he was a big ball of mush. “What a wimp!” we used to say to him. He never went anywhere without his baby, a gingerbread man shaped squeaky made out of lambs wool. At bedtime we would yell “Bedtime, Tazman! Get your baby!” and he’d gleefully grab his baby and trot off after his daddy to catch some zzzzz’s. And if we were sad and crying, Taz would come and lay his big head in our laps and look at us as if to say: “ Stroke my fur and let your tears fall into my eyes and I will absorb all your hurt.”
For a homebody, Taz was actually well traveled. From the countryside of New Hampshire, to the beaches of Connecticut, to the Foothills of the Blue Ridge in North Carolina to the Gulf Coast of Mississippi, an open car door was a ticket to adventure, and his baby always rode shotgun. Taz also had a reputation as a ladies man. He was into blondes. Two legged or four legged, it didn’t matter as long as their sole attention was directed towards lavishing love on him. Tazzer was a lover, a couch potato, a wheeler and dealer and a TV and food connoisseur. His favorite movies and TV shows either involved animals or vehicles with sirens blaring. His food tastes ran the gamut from steak to McDonald’s hamburgers to ice cream from DQ to fortune cookies from Chinese takeout. The only things he turned his nose up at were vegetables. He’d wolf down cheese and loved coffee, but don’t dare give him anything green. He was a snow bunny at heart. He would greet the crisp winter air with a deep breath in and his face taking on the breeze. He loved to romp in the snow, rolling in it, prancing through it and digging tunnels through the drifts. Whenever he came inside after a decent snow romp he always looked as though he had just run the whole Iditarod in a blizzard. Taz was not only smart, but a smart-ass as well. He perceived himself to be one of the most intelligent beings on the face of the Earth. Loved by all who knew him, he had a presence so large you could feel him before you saw him. He was a canine that was 100% convinced he was human, and related to all other humans as peers. We quickly learned to spell words around Taz. He countered this by learning what the spelled out letters equated to. C-o-o-k-i-e. B-y-e-b-y-e. O-u-t. It didn’t take long before we couldn’t even abbreviate around him.
Taz went on to greener pastures, ripe with squirrels and cats, on January 30, 2006. He lay on his bed, head on his paws and napped his way into eternity. We figure Jesus is running around Heaven right now looking for the Angel responsible for letting in a crazy mutt. But even still, knowing that my puppy is somewhere (previously) peaceful, I know in my heart he is not at rest quite yet. You see, it was a long trip… and he forgot to take his baby.