Whistler

(Sadly, there was a photograph associated with this blog entry.  When transferring it from one site that was shutting down to this site, the photo was lost.  I am unable to locate it among my possessions.)

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One of the first dogs I ever encountered on the mail route I’ve been delivering for over the last 15 years was named Whistler.  As I pulled up to place the mail in the curbside mailbox, this yellow lab came charging toward the mailbox at full speed.  Wonderful.  Brand new on the route, and I’ve already found a territorial dog.

He arrived at the mailbox in mere seconds, and then hit the brakes – coming to an almost instantaneous stop next to the mailbox.  It was then that I noticed two important details; Whistler was wearing a shock collar (for the Invisible Fence) so he had an ingrained concept of boundaries, and secondly (and most important to Whistler) was that he had a tennis ball in his mouth.

Whistler was not in “attack mode”.  He was in, “I’ve found a sucker to throw my ball” mode.  And he was right… in no time at all he had me trained to throw the ball for him whenever I showed up. 

This became a game for both of us; I’d show up at the mailbox and so would Whistler.  I’d throw the ball toward the back of the house (their yard sloped downhill from the street) and Whistler would run at full-tilt to retrieve the ball and make it back to the box before I was done getting the mail sorted and off to the next stop.  Whistler always got two throws of the ball because of his speed.  On heavy mail days he usually got three tosses of the ball.

This went on for a few years, and then one day one of Whistler’s humans was out in the yard, waiting by the mailbox.  When I got there, they told me that Whistler had cancer and wasn’t going to be around much longer.  They also asked if I’d do them a favor and pose for a photo with him.  They were compiling a photo album for their kids, tentatively called “A Day in the Life of Whistler”, where they were going to document his daily goings-on.  My routine stop there was apparently on Whistler’s “to-do” list, so it was only natural that it should be part of the documentary.

The photo that appears above is a copy that was given to me from that day’s “photo-shoot”.  It’s also a pleasant reminder of the dog who helped to make a game out of delivering the mail to that one address on my route.  Even though Whistler has been gone for years, I still pull up to that one mailbox expecting to see him standing there with his ball, waiting for the game to begin.