Bennie Forever

Gentleman Ben the Newfoundland, a Landseer late of Dundas, was such a compelling character that even in his favorite but ludicrous upside-down pose, spread-eagled to enjoy the most of a blowing fan, he dominated the room. I had the privilege of joining forces with him and his fellow female Newfoundland to house sit and generally keep the routine in order, and, as I soon discovered, god help me if I didn't follow the schedule to the letter and to the hour. Like a crotchety old General, he would start his wheezy woofing ordering me to get going and should I not immediately hop to it, he would pull himself a little closer and bellow in my ear just to make the point.



Benny preferred lying in doorways...the better to monitor the progress and change of activities. He would ensure the rawhide chewies of the lightest quality were only his to take, and slobbily enjoyed a clean bucket of water like the any other Newf the world over. He took the morning air on the front porch and I was encouraged to wrap myself with a horse blanket with my tea out there so that this routine could be continued. It is testimony to either my submission I suppose or Benny's personality that I never questioned this process and complied willingly. I have now quiet and prolonged memories of those porch sits as Benny welcomed his public passing by.  His need to “control” clearly had established a pattern that I found weirdly similar to my own aging parent's habits and so I now suspect all of us no matter the species, would do well to note the warning for our own later days.



The need to rescue they say is ingrained in the Newfoundland breed , and so Ben proved his genetic quality when I turned too quickly at a counter and tripped over his fellow Newf (who loved to stay “close”) falling in a twisting motion that was quite spectacular. While the other younger female bounced about and woofed excitedly, Benny dragged himself to my side and rapidly began to lick my face. Was it noble resuscitation? Or mere selfish sequential thinking: “I'd better get this dame up p.d.q. or there won't be any supper tonight!” Who can say



Now Benny, despite his impressive physical compensations, is safely rescued from the increasing struggles of old age by his wise and deeply loving guardians. Doubtless somewhere in that home world to which we will all return eventually, he is bounding over hill and dale in his prime and just as likely to clear another escarpment cliff with ease but no fear of danger and disaster to restrict him! Benny of the penetrating stare out from under his Einstein eyebrows and the great big sighs of contentment as he sprawled out at the end of another “busy” day, I count myself as terribly fortunate to have known you and consider it a tremendous honour to have been allowed to watch over you if only for a short while...goodbye for now old thing,Benny the Ancient of Days, of the forceful presence and the incredibly strong minded soul.

Robin Baird Lewis

July 19,2008