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Old 05-31-2016, 11:21 PM   #1
baygo
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Default Doggy heaven gets new welcomer

13 years ago I got tired of carrying my golf clubs. I did some research about drafting dogs and learned that the Bernie's Mountain dog was bred to pull milk carts from the fields for farmers in Switzerland. I did additional research and found a breeder and anxiously put myself on a waiting list. A little bit over a year later I became what I thought was the master of this little puppy. I named him bagger after slang for a golfer's caddy. My assumption that I was the master was based on my experience with a German Shepherd. The Shepard is a dog that the master can command and the shepherd will respond. Little to my knowledge the burner on the other hand is a being who must be coerced or perhaps pleaded with. When asking A Berner to sit better results are more likely received when sit is preceded by "please". Nonetheless my relationship with bagger blossomed and in time he was trained to pull a cart with my golf clubs.

Bagger and I showed up at the golf course and were greeted by an unwelcome "No you can not have your dog on the golf cours". To which I replied " then I guess I don't have to pay my high-priced annual dues anymore, and I'll just go bye my dog is own golf course." That led to my wife and I moving from Colorado to New Hampshire to purchase an abandon par three golf course in the Laconia in July of 2009.

The golf course also had an abandoned restaurant. Our original plan was to rent the restaurant out however the economic environment of 2009 2010 was not one that encouraged risk taking in the restaurant business and we found ourselves without any potential tenants come January. The decision was made to go back into the restaurant business. As luck would have it an artist emerged with a knack for humorous illustrations of the Bernie's Mountain dog. Bagger became the inspiration behind our logo.

May 4, 2010, the day before we opened the restaurant bagger was hit by a car. This unfortunate incident impacted him the same as it would any great athlete and brought to an end his days as a golf caddy. Eager to work Bagger stayed on as the official tavern 27 Welcomer.

Bagger did his job with unparalleled enthusiasm, and it is with great regret that I announce that Bagger was poached by a headhunter searching for a blue-eyed welcomer in doggy heaven.

I wish Bagger the best in his future endeavors, and I hope that he be so lucky to catch a loop for Payne Stewart, Bobby Jones, or maybe even Ben Hogan.

By the way he was a great kisser :-) and if you're one of the ones who enjoys what we offer in our restaurant I must make you aware, we likely wouldn't be here in the Lakes Region had it not been for Bagger.
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Old 06-01-2016, 02:54 AM   #2
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What a beautiful tribute to Bagger
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Old 06-01-2016, 04:21 AM   #3
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Wonderful story--would you kindly post a photo of Bagger caddying if possible?

Sent from my XT1528 using Tapatalk
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Old 06-01-2016, 05:30 AM   #4
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God bless our fury friend...
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Old 06-01-2016, 06:29 AM   #5
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That is the cutest face!!! I love the story. We feel the same. If our dogs aren't welcome we don't go. So sorry for your loss.
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Old 06-01-2016, 10:39 AM   #6
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Default Sorry to hear

Since we just lost our 9 year old dog two weeks ago, I feel your pain!

Thinking of you and your family.
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Old 06-01-2016, 02:33 PM   #7
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Default A Wonderful Tribute and Great Story !

Our thoughts are with you....we love our dogs and can't imagine the pain in losing them..... we wish you the best.

Thanks so much for sharing,

GBGx2 (and Winni & Sadie)
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Old 06-01-2016, 02:48 PM   #8
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So sorry for your loss. It's a heartache like no other. I know there are no right words to say right now, but please know our thoughts are with you and Your wife.
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Old 06-08-2016, 05:25 PM   #9
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Great story and timely for us. We had to put our "Dwarf Lab", Eddy down just yesterday after 14 great years. He was my youngest daughter's 10th birthday gift. It's amazing what those little guys mean to the family and how much it hurts to lose them. My daughters took the day off from work yesterday to be with my wife and I when we took him to the vet. Together we made a tribute video to him, as much for our own therapeutic reasons as anything else.
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Old 06-08-2016, 06:06 PM   #10
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Gatto Nero View Post
Great story and timely for us. We had to put our "Dwarf Lab", Eddy down just yesterday after 14 great years. He was my youngest daughter's 10th birthday gift. It's amazing what those little guys mean to the family and how much it hurts to lose them. My daughters took the day off from work yesterday to be with my wife and I when we took him to the vet. Together we made a tribute video to him, as much for our own therapeutic reasons as anything else.
A wonderful tribute to a family member who obviously brought you and your family much joy and happines. Thank you for sharing your memories.
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Old 06-09-2016, 04:22 AM   #11
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Gatto Nero View Post
Great story and timely for us. We had to put our "Dwarf Lab", Eddy down just yesterday after 14 great years. He was my youngest daughter's 10th birthday gift. It's amazing what those little guys mean to the family and how much it hurts to lose them. My daughters took the day off from work yesterday to be with my wife and I when we took him to the vet. Together we made a tribute video to him, as much for our own therapeutic reasons as anything else.
I watched your video-tribute, and noticed how much your "Dwarf Lab" resembled our mini-dachshunds. (Even to the toed-out feet and "studied" demeanor). While I'm not much on writing essays, your video reminded me of a tribute I'd made to a mini-dachshund I'd been given as a puppy after my four-year stint as a Communications Technician in the US Navy:

Quote:
My old dog Fritz stood by the front door after his dinner.

It was the "wrong" door: We had a perfectly good back door with only a single step into a huge fenced-in yard . Fritz was 16 years old -- blind -- and three years past having heard anything at all. Sensing my approach, he wagged his tail as best he could...so...I opened the door he had selected. He waddled down the four steps into a darkness that was equally black to both of us.

He wouldn't want to go far... the yard was wet and, though this was Florida, a very cold, windy, drizzle had dominated the evening. I left the front door slightly ajar, so Fritz could "nose" his way back inside; after all, he was trusting and trustworthy. A long-distance telephone call from an old friend interrupted.

It was the second call in as many days regarding the U.S. Navy's U.S.S. Stark, patrolling off Iraq's coast. A friend had been aboard the ship participating as a civilian field representative when it was struck by two Iraqi Exocet missiles -- with 27 fatalities.

I couldn't hear the caller very well now, as the rain had become hail -- rattling firmly on the skylights of our cathedral ceiling.

I sat down on the hallway floor, changing to a portable phone on the way. Our friend was, thankfully, uninjured. Comforted by the good news and, after commiserating for a few minutes with the caller, I dropped into my overstuffed chair with relieved thoughts and re-opened my book.

Then came this distant faint wail: "Ah-Oooooooooooo" -- Holy Moly! Fritz!

Fritz' wet footprints were present, but Fritz wasn't on the front porch.

Another "Ah-Oooooooooooo" -- now from next door.

Our neighbors had left on a cruise, and there stood Fritz sitting below a dim porch light -- once again at the wrong door!

I splashed over in cold and wet stocking feet, and scooped up my dog. Fritz was even colder and wetter than I, and seemed to be shivering his last. Getting him home, I firmly rubbed his coat dry with fresh fluffy towels. (My spouse, an RN, had switched on an electric blanket in the guest bedroom -- no small sacrifice on her part).

Under the electric blanket, he gradually regained normalcy -- with his ears actually warm for the first time in years -- and by morning seemed none the worse for the experience.

He continued soldiering on for another six months -- unconditional love personified -- collapsing at last in our hallway.

Two decades later, on a black -- and bitterly cold -- autumn evening at Lake Winnipesaukee, I step out into the blackness to retrieve a few logs for the woodstove. As I pick up the last log, I hear a wail, "Ah-Oooooooooooo".

It is the sad, mournful, voice of a Loon -- of course. "Ah-Oooooooooooo" -- fainter this time.

Arms full, I close the door behind me with my heel, place the logs next to the stove, and dab at my wet eyes with my sleeve.

It's been twenty years, but...

Sounds carry.
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