Dogs of the North The Pack Luke

In Memoriam

My introduction to Alaskan Malamutes came quite by accident when a big, easy going dog of roughly a year in age wandered into my life. Luke was a stray who, I learned over time, had escaped an abusive owner and taken to the street. His owner showed up to claim him one day, but I wouldn't give him back. He was a happy dog, who adapted to a diverse series of lifestyles and accommodations in the years he was with me. He moved from a home with his own yard to a parsonage with virtually no yard to another parsonage with a big yard to an apartment with a yard he used sparingly. Luke didn't mind the changes as long as he had plenty of company and a full food dish.

Luke introduced me to animal assisted therapy. Or rather, my brother Dave, a doctor in a small Iowa town, introduced it to Luke who introduced it to me. Dave had a patient whose eyesight was failing. She had been moved to a nursing home across the street from his house, and was struggling with depression at the loss of her independence and health. While Luke and I were visiting, Dave decided that we should bring the dog over to the nursing home to visit his patient.

When we walked into her room, I saw a woman lying on her bed and facing the wall, showing no interest whatsoever in my brother's visit. He jokingly said something like, "I know you don't want to see me, and you probably don't care that my sister from Minneapolis is with me, but this dog she brought with her is a BIG sucker, and I wouldn't cross him if I were you." Luke lay his head on the side of her bed and wagged his tail as she slowly turned to look at him. Then, breaking into a big smile she sat up and began to pet and hug him. It was a real break through for her, and it awakened me to the therapeutic value that animals often bring to counseling situations.

Luke loved to visit. He was great with little kids. Toddlers could hang on his neck and kiss his muzzle and he would grin with pleasure and lick their foreheads. He would lay his head gently in the laps of senior citizens and rough house like a puppy with the kids in my church's youth group. I could take him anywhere and often did. My friend, Claudia, and I took him to a festival one summer evening and bought him a glow necklace to wear. He trotted around with us looking for kids to play with. I think that evening must have been one of the happiest of his life, as child after child came up to pet the big hairy dog with the necklace. He was never happier than when the center of attention!

For several summers when I was in seminary, I taught introductory Greek to incoming students. Luke often accompanied me to class. One year, my students took his picture and made him a seminary ID. They even put him in the year book with the caption, "Luke Taylor, D.D. in Dogmatics" He thrived on playing the clown. When I received my master's degree I dressed him in my graduation gown and took his picture. Christmas time often found him decked out in jingle bells and a Santa hat. He loved it.

He wasn't the brightest dog I have ever known. He once put his nose through a chain link fence and tried to bark. But he was a genius when it came to stealing food. If there was something edible within a mile radius, Luke would find a way to get it. He would pull whole pots of chili off the stove and eat frantically as I ran down the hallway to stop him, all the while yelling, "Luke! No! Bad dog! Put that down!!" He'd hear me coming and eat faster. He stole bread off the counter, meat off the grill, cat food at any opportunity. Occasionally he would run away, but always to the bar down the street where he would eat the popcorn off the floor. The neighborhood guys who hung out there would simply keep him in tow and feed him tidbits until I discovered his absence and came to claim him. "Oh, that's the Reverend's dog," they'd say.

Luke's greatest achievement came when he learned how to open the refrigerator door all by himself. I returned one day to find that he and Kierkegaard had eaten everything inside except a jar of olives!

Luke lived to the ripe old age of fourteen.... Pretty good for a Malamute. I still miss him, but his memory always leaves me smiling.

Read about Hagar.