Death of a viceregal dog
My wife and I took Ado, our 14-year-old Belgian Shepherd, on his last car ride to the veterinarian last week. I cried quietly and unashamedly all the way and during the merciful procedure that ended his life. I am still secretly crying.
I think people bond with their pets, especially dogs, just as deeply as they do with members with their own species. Perhaps because dogs are non-judgmental? And in the case of Ado, who never could do wrong as far as I was concerned, ready to defend me with his life if need be?
For 14 years, Ado slept on the floor at the foot of our bed, ignoring the cats who slept on the covers and the grandchildren who often paid surprise visits, invading our room shortly after dawn on weekends. He was the self-appointed greeter of visitors who came to our front door in the years I was lieutenant-governor, never overtly hostile, but making clear was he was suspending judgment until either my wife or I delivered our own opinion.
Ado liked nothing better than to go on long walks and for swims at nearby lakes, and, being a paragon of doghood, he made his wishes known with discretion. In the last weeks of his life, as his breathing became shorter and heavier, he implored me with his eyes to ignore the desperate state of his health and take him for a swim, or for a walk in the shallows. Returning to the shore, he would forget he was dying and, with the doggy version of a smile, roll in the tall damp grass for a minute or two before running out of breath.
Like complicit dogs everywhere, he shared his secrets with me through soft woofing sounds and eye signals, and he did an excellent job pretending that he was interested in my never-ending chatter about my early life in Muskoka and adventures as a Canadian diplomat. He even considered it a mark of distinction (and I swear this is not imagination run wild) to share my official duties when I was Ontario’s lieutenant-governor. The official viceregal vehicle, replete with viceregal pennant, polished hubcaps, antennas sticking out in all directions and driven by a heavily armed, dark-suited, silent James Bond look-alike driver from the elite OPP security detachment, came to fetch me each morning at our home to take me to my offices at Queen’s Park. Ado would walk with great dignity down the driveway, sniff the other James Bond look-alike bodyguard holding open the back door, and jump in, thereby indicating to me that it was safe for me to join him.
When we arrived at the lieutenantgovernor’s entrance at Queen’s Park, he would forget decorum, bound up the stone steps, his tail wagging, and give a short, sharp bark at the door. The butler, waiting just inside for this signal, would open the door, salute and give Ado a treat. By the time I had reached my office, Ado had done the rounds of all the offices to let everyone know that the Queen’s Representative had arrived, and it was time to get down to serious work! He would then spend his day lying under my desk ostensibly guarding me but usually just napping.
He was a great hit with the legislative pages. They were kids from across the province who carried messages from MPPs and legislative functionaries. Inevitably, they were homesick, at least for the first week on duty. Each incoming group, some 30 or 40 strong, called on me early in their tenure, and I was supposed to give them briefings on the role of the viceregal representatives in Ontario. Although they pretended to be interested, they weren’t … the information was dry and boring. That is when Ado went to work approaching each page with a silly grin and tail and tongue wagging, shoving his nose into their outstretched hands and inviting them to pet him … and the ice would be broken.
Ado was so beloved after more than five years backing me up as lieutenantgovernor that when my portrait was painted several years ago, he was included beside me in the 10-foot-tall official picture that hangs on the otherwise formal walls of the Music Room in the lieutenant-governor’s suite. He has become a hit with crowds of visitors, stealing the show from his friend and former master who sits uncomfortably beside him. He may have passed away, but generations to come will have the privilege of getting to know him.
James Bartleman was the 27th lieutenantgovernor of Ontario.