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Rex By Michael Milligan
It’s the late 1960s, early 1970s. I’m a preteen and my Uncle Doug works at a large military installation. He has a friend that works with Military Working Dogs. One is about to be retired and the friend wants to know if Uncle Doug wants him for a pet. Uncle Doug is a sucker for his friends and tells him yes, but he thinks he’ll get out of it later. The friend goes to his car and brings back “Rex.” “My God, what kind of an animal is that,” Uncle Doug exclaims. His friend tells him this is “Rex” (you know, T-Rex). The dog is huge – not fat, just huge. He’s not in the retirement age group. “Can’t be more than three years old,” says Uncle Doug’s friend. The handlers (how do you say this delicately?) couldn’t handle him. He’s a well-behaved, well-trained and a friendly German Shepherd Dog. Apparently “Rex” was so well-trained that, for safety purposes, he was not allowed to do any bite work for fear of actually hurting his handlers. He could easily bite through any sleeve offered. For fun the handlers would give “Rex” a cow femur and he would bite it in half. Imagine if that was your arm? Uncle Doug begrudgingly takes “Rex” home. As Uncle Doug drives home he thinks “dog will probably eat me out of house and home.” When Uncle Doug arrives at home, Aunt Mary is waiting at the back door. Uncle Doug sits in the car thinking what he’s going to say to his petite wife about this monster that he’s about to unleash on her pristine household. Because it’s almost dark, Aunt Mary cannot tell what “Rex” is and thinks he is a friend that her husband has brought home for supper without telling her – again.
As Uncle Doug exits the vehicle, Rex bolts out from the front passenger seat, through the driver’s open door and straight up the stairs to Aunt Mary, who now has this mass of dog hurling at her at the speed of sound. Startled, Aunt Mary screams the only command she knows for a dog, “SIT.” And Rex promptly sits, awaiting the next command from his new mistress. “Doug, where in God’s name did you get this, this thing from?” Aunt Mary asks. Uncle Doug explains, and like most Southern women, when faced with the unknown, Aunt Mary proclaims, “He must be hungry. I’ll get him something to eat.” So began the life-long attachment to a woman who, up to that point, had never owned any type of animal. Rex must have bedding, a bowl for food and a bucket for water, and a nice, warm place to sleep, preferably by the gas heater where it’s warm. Rex has already made himself at home and no matter what the humans want, he has all he needs for the moment: a new mistress. Rex will not let Aunt Mary out of his sight, not even when put in the bathroom with the door closed while she attempts to get everything in order for Rex’s first night at home. You see, Rex is an extraordinary dog. He can open any door, gate, latch and box, and just about anything you can close and secure. With this first of many soon to be discovered talents, Aunt Mary just tells him, “Sit!” and he does, never moving a muscle until she is finished making a bed for him from old quilts in front of the gas heater. Aunt Mary then calls Rex to her and she tells him, “Lie down on the quilts and go to sleep.” Mary and Doug proceed to go to the bedroom for the evening. When they get there, who do you think is in the bed already? Rex decided not to let Aunt Mary out of his sight whatsoever. After the first couple of days, Rex established a routine and realized that Aunt Mary was not going to leave him. Aunt Mary and Uncle Doug have only one child and he is grown and in the Navy, so most of the time the house is quiet and peaceful. On Sundays, after church, everyone in the family meets at Aunt Mary’s for dinner and to catch up on what’s happened the past week in the family. After eating, the men retire to the living room to watch whatever sports are on and the ladies go to the kitchen to clean up and get the coffee and desserts ready for later. The children are ushered outside into the fenced in back yard to play and not disturb the “grown folk.” In the backyard there is an old swing set and one HUGE doghouse that we use as a fort, when Rex will move over and let us in. On sunny days, Rex will lay on top of the doghouse and sleep. Any child put in the backyard automatically becomes a charge of Rex’s, and is not able to leave without Aunt Mary opening the gate. Adults cannot enter the backyard alone when children are inside without being escorted by Aunt Mary because Rex does not allow anyone to enter the backyard. His vantage point is from the top of his doghouse. He can see a full 360 degrees with just a slight rotation of his head. If a child attempts an escape, he would run to the offender and pull them back to the center of the yard. No one ever escaped from the backyard. On one occasion during a weekday, my cousin and I were in the backyard when his babysitter showed up to take him home. She by-passed Aunt Mary and came straight to the backyard. I don’t think that memory will ever fade from that poor girl’s mind. Rex never even barked, he just charged the fence. My cousin and I were reminded with a switch that we should not laugh at other people’s misfortune. Rex remained the only animal my Aunt ever owned. She died shortly after Rex passed on at the golden age of 14. German Shepherd Dogs are beginning to be a constant part of my life now. Even though I don’t own one yet, fate has already chosen my breed.
Michael Milligan is a contributing writer for The German Shepherd by Design. He can be reached at thunder999@juno.com.
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