If they don't, our Olaf has now officially achieved perfection.
It's just his family that's a mess....an absolute mess.
Olaf was, without a doubt, the world's cutest puppy.
I carried him home from the breeder's on my lap, a warm, wiggly, bear cub of a dog.
Would you check out the size of that paw? Even as a baby, it was clear he would soon be shopping at the big and tall store.
His doggie brother Charlie, our labrador retriever, five years his senior, was named after Charlie Brown. We wanted to stay in keeping with the Peanuts theme, but this dog was certainly no Snoopy. Or Pigpen. Or Linus. Bruder piped up that Snoopy had a fat brother in a fur hat and that his name was Olaf. Lightbulbs dinged over the heads of all family members and it was decided instantly. He was Olaf.
When he was still a baby, we took a trip to the Oregon coast, but since we couldn't imagine leaving him in a kennel, we rented an RV and he came along for the ride.
He's always been so gentle that even toddler Rose could hold his leash.
We learned on that trip that Olaf detested water, wouldn't even step paw in it, but would happily run along the beach. Basically anything with his people, he was game.
He grew at an alarming rate. By 10 months he was pushing 100 pounds.
Here he is during his gangly teenage stage in the Olympic Mountains with the kids. I've always loved mountain photos of Olaf. Being a Bernese Mountain Dog, it just seemed fitting. If we could put the kids in lederhosen and get them yodeling, the scene would be perfect.
I can't tell you how many times I heard, "Holy cow! What a
cool dog!" Or, "Is that some type of Saint Bernard?" Or my favorite, "Oh, I know what he is! He's one of those
Burmese Mountain Dogs, right?" I always commended the proud individual on their canine knowledge, but inwardly laughed at the image of Olaf in his thick black coat, lounging on the tropical shores of Burma.
For almost seven years, Olaf has been such a huge part of our home and family.
Whether it's been welcoming trick or treaters on Halloween,
laughing with the kids on crazy dress day,
or sending off his boy on his first drive in his new car.
He's been there for landscaping and dirt moving projects,
bike rides and lawn games,
kid's birthday parties,
and of course, the Christmas Eve pyramid. Oh, how he hated the Christmas Eve pyramid. If he could wring his hands, assuming he had hands, this annual event would make him do it. He was a bit of a worrier at heart. More than once, he tried to hide behind me when some toy breed barked at him. He also worried about our laminate floor. Not the whole floor, just one particular section. He'd stand there, hemming and hawing over what he should do, then he'd always turn around and throw it into reverse to slowly back into the carpeted family room. Lyle added the BEEP, BEEP, BEEP sound of a truck in reverse. People thought it was some trick we taught him, but no, it was just his own little brand of weirdness shining through.
Olaf was always gentle and kindhearted. Never once in his life did he show the slightest hint of aggression. Our lab will growl, as most dogs would, if say, a raccoon saunters onto our porch, but never Olaf. Not a single growl ever escaped his lips.
He went on countless walks around our two mile loop.....not just with our family, with anyone. He was positive that everyone adored him, and as far as I can tell, he was right. He was beloved by the whole neighborhood and many walkers would get to our property and cup their hands around their mouths and yell, "OLAF!" and he'd join them for a jaunt. When our neighbors heard he was sick, one brought him a cheeseburger, another a bone. They shared Olaf stories and fought back tears.
Olaf loved the recent arrival of our goats. In this photo, he was staring with rapt attention, along with the kids, as the goats were let into the pasture.
He chased them with tail wagging glee and then sat outside their fence and stared at them. He found them endlessly entertaining.
When visitors came to our home, Olaf gave them a little sniff, then promptly turned around, sat on their feet, and threw his head back at them in a big Berner grin. I believe he had a 100% success rate in getting a pat.
He went on many scout campouts and was the ultimate tent warmer. On a cold night, everyone wanted to sleep with Olaf. He accompanied the boys on numerous hikes,
almost all successful.
There was one notable exception when he laid down mid-trail and refused to take another step.
I've had hikes like that myself.
But when I picture Olaf, I won't see him on a trail or in the mountains or at the beach. When I think of him, I'll always see him on the hill above our house.
Without fail, when our car turned the final dusty, bumpy corner for home, he was there, waiting for us.
Tonight, with the help of our neighbors, we buried our gentle giant on his hill. Everyone agreed that that's where he should be.
As much as our hearts are breaking right now, I would bring home that furry bear cub bundle again in a heartbeat. I can see our children, years from now, with their children, sitting snuggled on their laps, and they're telling them,
"When I was a kid, we had the coolest dog....." And then they'll smile.
"His name was Olaf."
