By Travis Henry

Frasier never met a hamburger he didn’t like. The same could be said about sandwiches, hot dogs, chicken or anything else he could get his paws on.

Frasier came into our lives in the fall of 2003, really just as a companion dog to our favorite little furry baby Ralph The Spy Dog.

Erin and I adored Ralph and didn’t want him lonely while we worked during the day. So we took our young kids, Lauren and Joel, to the same place we had found Ralphie.

Erin and I were really hoping for another corgi like Ralph, but 4-year-old Joel fixated on a tiny beagle with a fat belly.  His sister, Lauren, agreed. After trying to persuade the kids to look at some other dogs, we eventually gave in and adopted the beagle.

On the car ride home, Lauren and Joel, who at the time were watching Brendan Fraser’s latest movie on repeat, insisted we name our new dog George of the Jungle.

That wasn’t going to happen. But our beagle did look distinguished and intelligent in an English sort of way, so we offered up the name “Frasier” as a compromise. The kids agreed.

Little did we know that Frasier would never be considered either distinguished or intelligent, but instead simple, gentle and loving.

He was just what we needed.

 

Ralphie and Frasier

 Ralphie and Frasier were brothers, best friends. Although they were less than a year apart in age, Ralphie assumed the role of wise big brother who taught Frasier what to do and how to act. (Ralphie the Spy Dog was also named as a result of a movie compromise with the kids, but that’s a different story.)

Frasier followed Ralphie wherever he went and let Ralph do all of the speaking. We never heard Frasier bark, bay or howl until some years later when Ralph was sick and had to go to the hospital.

While Ralph was a sweet dog, it’s clear now he let Frasier take the blame for everything. We blamed Frasier for ripped up toys, missing sandwiches and holes dug in the grass.  Whenever there was trouble, Ralphie was nowhere to be found. Frasier, who didn’t know better, always found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

One summer day, Erin happened to be in our second-floor laundry room at our first house and looked out the window. In a corner of the yard, obscured from most window views, Ralphie was going to town on one of Joel’s stuffed animals, tearing it up with his teeth. Erin yelled out the window and Ralph, who knew he had been caught, fled the scene. This is one of the rare times he couldn’t pin it on Frasier.

Ralph and Frasier were inseparable. They ran away once, were found together, and never strayed too far from home again.  Their days together were spent lounging, hiking, playing with the neighbor dogs, Spot and Ted, and loving on their parents and siblings.

In 2012, Ralphie was diagnosed with bone cancer. Our corgi, who was our family’s herder and stubbornly tough, was in pain, but wasn’t sure he could leave our family to our own devices. Could Frasier, a faithful – yet not too bright – follower, fill his spot?

We are pretty sure Ralphie had a conversation with Frasier before he left us. “Take care of these guys. They really don’t know what they are doing, but they are our family.”

Ralphie, who had been the center of attention for so long,  left us on Dec. 31, 2012, at 10-years-old.

We weren’t too sure how long Frasier would last without Ralph, but in some ways, this was a new beginning.

It was a gift to Frasier really. Always a second fiddle before, Frasier would grow into his role and get the love and attention he deserved.

Frasier and the coyote

In 2009, Frasier was at the peak of his fatness. Although he suffered daily seizures due to what we thought was epilepsy, he had no diet restrictions.

We fed him a lot. And Frasier fed himself a lot. He often somehow slipped out of the backyard and visited neighbor houses for a snack. Frasier would wait for our next-door neighbor’s garage door to open and would sneak in to take a crack at their dog bowl. Unbeknownst to us, our neighbors started to enjoy his visits and would give him a treat when he would stop by.

Frasier could unzip a kid’s backpack with his teeth, seek out the lunch box inside and extract a leftover sandwich without damaging any of the containers.

On a particular September evening, right at dusk, Frasier was outside near our back fence which borders a large swath of open space. Ralph was inside the house with Erin and the kids. I was driving home for work.

Erin looked out the window to check on him and saw a horrifying sight. A coyote had jumped the fence and grabbed Fraiser by the neck, trying to yank him over the fence as a meal-to-go. But Frasier was much too heavy and the coyote had to let go.

Erin rushed Frasier to the animal hospital and saved his life. Frasier would have half his face semi-paralyzed and a droopy eye for the rest of his life, but all in all survived pretty much intact.

Food, Frasier’s favorite thing, had fattened him up and served as a lifesaver.

Frasier and the hamburgers

 In early July of 2010, Erin was almost ready to give birth to our youngest son. We convinced our next-door neighbors, the Belmonts, to host the annual Fourth of July barbecue we used to put on.

At least 100 hundred people showed up and at around 2 p.m., Brian Belmont yelled out “food is ready,” and dozens of kids who were playing stopped what they were doing and ran to the grill at their parents’ prompting.  Each kid grabbed a plate and was served either a hamburger or hot dog with some sides.  Each kid then promptly set their plates down on the grass, most of the food untouched, and went back to playing.

Frasier entered through the gate we kept open that connected our yards and surveyed the scene. While everyone was preoccupied, he proceeded to eat every single hamburger, hot dog and side until he was so bloated he could not move. He looked like a huge balloon with tiny limbs sticking out.

If it was a different time we may have rushed to the vet. But Erin went into labor soon and Frasier would just have to survive. This would just be one of the many times where Frasier’s penchant for food would leave him hurting.

I’d like to say he learned a lesson at some point, but then I’d just be lying.

Our son Brooks was born on July 6, 2010. When we came home Frasier had recovered and the two began their love affair.

Much to Frasier’s delight, Brooks would have a tendency to drop food on the floor for years to come.  In turn, Frasier would let Brooks and big brother Alex climb on him, pull his ears and dress him in all sorts of costumes.

Alex, and in particular Brooks, would continue to love on Frasier daily until the day he left us.

Frasier the survivor

 In 2016 Frasier went blind. One day he could see. The next day he could not.

We rushed him to the animal hospital and learned he was suffering from cataracts from diabetes. Our lives changed right then.

I had never used a needle in my life. All of a sudden we were required to give him two insulin shots a day. Frasier could no longer eat regular dog food. He was restricted to prescription dog food, which he seemed to love just as much. But snacks were now a no-no.

We were told that many dogs seemed to get along fine with being blind. Dogs have a sense of their home and can navigate the familiar surroundings, we were told. Frasier was not that dog. Although his nose could lead him to food, he otherwise kept running straight into walls.

We elected for cataract surgery and after hundreds of eye-drops later, Frasier could see again.

And although many vets have told us there is no correlation, Frasier stopped having daily seizures the day we started giving him insulin.

Frasier’s mishaps and trips to the animal ER are legendary.

He had a cancerous and non-cancerous tumors removed. He survived an unfair attack by two off-leash rottweilers at the neighborhood park. In 2013 alone, he had a tumor removed from his right thigh and dislocated his left hip sliding off the dining room table hunting down a sandwich my in-laws had left unattended.

Then came December of 2018. After a trying year for my in-laws, my wife was attending to her parents in California.

A couple of days before the new year I took the kids to an indoor trampoline park for a few hours. When we returned, Frasier was shaking, otherwise non-responsive and had vomited profusely all over the house.

We found the reason right away. Frasier had opened up a kitchen pantry door and dragged out a box of dark chocolate energy bars and eaten all of them. I think there were at least 30.

I took Frasier to the animal hospital right away. They said they would keep him overnight and try to stabilize him, but it didn’t look good. I received a call at 2 a.m. from the vet who suggested I come back as soon as I could to say goodbye. A lump formed in my throat. There is no way Frasier could leave without saying goodbye to his mother, could he?

I got to the animal hospital and saw Frasier lying peacefully on the dog bed I had brought, oblivious to his surroundings, not moving, breathing slightly.

“He’s been like that the past two hours,” the vet said.

“Yeah, that’s how Frasier is normally for a large bulk of the day, for the past 10 years,” I replied. “Let’s give him a night to sleep it off.”

A day and a half later Frasier was home and back just as he was before.

Despite Frasier’s maladies, he always kept on trucking. He went on hikes, loved to dig and still visit the neighbors (sans snacks of course.) In his last year, Frasier went on a camping trip and boat ride.

 

Frasier and food

 While Frasier had always been a quiet dog, he picked up a habit of baying and jumping up and down when we would feed him his prescription dog food. Even in his last couple of years, when he would sleep a lot, Frasier would act like a puppy come mealtime.

A few weeks ago, we knew his time was almost up when he stopped eating. When he was looking worse for wear, we again brought him to the animal hospital emergency room. They gave him some fluids and after he responded positively, we took him home. However, in his medical notes we noticed the doctor had observed that “the owners weren’t quite ready to let Frasier go yet.”

A wonderful neighbor of ours, JJ Wellman, happens to be the best veterinarian in Broomfield (Colorado? The World? ) and we turned to her when Frasier resumed vomiting and not eating. I could go into the medical measures we took, but she did something even more profound. She gave Frasier a treat.

My wife and I were in shock when, at a vet’s appointment,  she reached into a jar and gave him a dog treat. We had been religiously strict on the diabetes diet for years and kept all food away for him. JJ gave him another treat and then another one. He gobbled then up.

We all agreed that while Frasier didn’t have much time left, he should enjoy the time he did have.

So we baked him chicken breasts. After years of eating prescription food and at least a week of refusing to eat and getting sick, Frasier had two days of enjoying chicken breasts and being active with his family. My wife videotaped a dance the family did while Frasier gobbled down some chicken and wagged his tail.

On Tuesday, Frasier decided he had enough chicken and was ready to go see Ralphie and hopefully move on to as many hamburgers and hot dogs he can eat.

I can’t tell you that I’m not sitting here brokenhearted, that I’m not trying to type through tears.

Losing your most loyal, trustworthy family member who has seen your best and worst, but always been by your side unconditionally, has got to be one of the hardest things to do. And Frasier was that to not only me, but his mom (especially his mom) and the kids. He was constant. And sweet. And peaceful. And now we are trying to figure out how to do this without him.

But despite the heartbreak, I wouldn’t change the love and companionship, and time, and memories, for anything.

Hug your furry ones tight.