Fairhope Famous, a Tribute to Moose

By Trey Barnard

Someone once said, “Once you have had a wonderful dog, life without them is a life diminished.”

When our first German Shepherd, Wolf, passed away, my wife, Kim, was insistent that we get another. Bear was in mourning and would barely lift his head off the sofa for days. After a couple of calls, Kim and I, along with two of our four sons, Harris and Noah, made the trek back to Memphis for our second German Shepherd. Moose became our family member.

Moose was the smartest dog I have ever had. He was a real Houdini. He could open most doors and he could escape the most complex kennels. Moose would wait for the boys’ friends to walk through the door and he and Bear would make the most of every opportunity to bolt. They typically headed straight to Springhill College where they would be fed by plenty of college students and receive excessive attention. I can’t recall how many times the security guards called the house to let us know our dogs were back on campus.

Whenever outdoors, Moose was Bear’s keeper. He never let Bear out of his sight. If Bear wandered off, Moose would grab him by the hind leg and work his way up to his ear. Once Moose had his ear, Bear had to surrender until he was walked back within my reach. They went missing for almost three days several years ago. Kim and I left the door unlocked in the event they came home. In the early hours of Sunday morning, the door chime went off, and in walked the dogs. We knew they would be together; Moose would never leave him. They looked like they had been on a three-day bender in New Orleans. That is the one time I wished they could talk.

One unique trait of German Shepherds is they are usually attached to one person. I was Moose’s person. Wherever I was, Moose was there also. I could not take a shower or go to the bathroom and close the door without being barricaded inside by his one hundred and forty-five-pound massive frame. A gentle giant he was.

The only times I ever saw him show any aggression was when Bear was attacked by another dog and when Jack came in one night late to set the alarm. Moose was startled and jumped on the bed to protect Kim. Before he could pick up Jack’s scent in that unlit room, he was airborne and took our six foot-one, two-hundred-pound college athlete off his feet. The third time was after another large, male dog tried to establish dominance by putting his front legs on Moose’s back. Within seconds the dog was pinned to the ground. Moose was a gentle giant you did not want to test.

Two years ago, we moved to downtown Fairhope. We are the only house on our street amongst numerous shops and restaurants. Letting the dogs out in our very small yard was no longer an option. For two years, we have picked up hundreds of pounds of dog excrement. The blessing that has come out of our frequent walks is the number of people we have met. Dogs are a magnet for conversation, especially our very large white German Shepherd. People who may normally walk past with a slight nod or a quick “hello” would become engaged.

Soon after settling into Fairhope, I had a misdiagnosed health scare. The prescription was a very strict diet and a rigorous exercise routine. Bear was too old to make the long walk, but Moose was still a spry, seven-year-old, slightly younger than I in human years. Moose and I logged twenty-five to thirty-five miles per week walking along the eastern shore of Mobile Bay. Within a short time, it seemed like everyone knew or knew of Moose. Kim was frequently greeted with, “You must be Moose’s mom.”

Even on the days that brought the most unpleasant weather; Moose expected the walk and would stare me down until I grabbed the harness and leash. He was the motivation I needed to stay the course. I reached the majority of my goal in six weeks. To my surprise, Moose almost lost a pound for pound. I could not have done it without him.

Six short months ago Moose was diagnosed with an aggressive form of bladder cancer. When the surgery was complete, we were told it was a success and the margins were negative. I learned from my days in the oncology and surgery arena that many times there can be residual cells with certain, aggressive cancers. We were instructed to keep our eyes on Moose for any signs of recurrence.

Moose’s body took a toll after that surgery and our long walks became multiple short walks around town, still logging approximately three miles over the course of a day. One of Moose’s favorite spots was the coffee shop at the end of our street where the girls knew our order when we walked in the door. Moose would receive his daily cup of whipped cream. In the mornings when the line wasn’t too long, they would come around the counter to feed him. He became a fixture in Page & Palette.

People would often ask where he was if we missed a couple of days. He would lie at my feet while blocking half the aisle and was greeted by the majority of the patrons. Certain locals would bring him treats. He could put a smile on anyone’s face, both young and old alike. He loved our boys and would greet them at the door every time they came home. He would wrap a front leg around Harris as if to hug him. Most recently, he loved it when Trenton, our oldest son, would visit with his new lab, a mini version of Bear.

Two weeks ago, Moose began losing the use of one of his hind legs. When a hip and knee injury was ruled out, we ended up back in New Orleans for advanced imaging where we had taken Bear two years prior for dialysis. I received a call in the hotel room from the Neurologist indicating that advanced imaging or surgery would not be an option. It appeared that a painful spine cancer was present, and his heart was not capable of handling the anesthesia.

That same morning, he lost the use of his other hind leg. We called the boys to let them know we would have to put Moose down so that he would not suffer. Jack and Harris made several-hour trips home and back to Auburn. Trenton and Noah would not have been able to be here in time, so we Face Timed them. We stopped in Mobile at an exit off the interstate to allow my mom and brother to say their final goodbyes. He loved them both dearly. When we pulled down the street, one of the girls from the coffee shop met us outside to give Moose his final pup cup with tears running down her cheeks.

Jack and Harris were waiting on us at the house. They assisted in getting Moose out of the vehicle, but he could no longer walk. People from the restaurant across the street and next door walked over to pay their final respects and offer a comforting hug. We loaded Moose into the back of one of the trucks and made the drive to meet Bill Morrison, our close friend who grew up with Kim and our Veterinarian for the past twenty-something years. Almost all the staff walked out to say their final goodbyes, including Dr. Dawn Hoover who took such good care of him during his bladder diagnosis. We held Moose as he took his final breath and I let him know he was going to see Bear.

Today we have received multiple flower bouquets from local friends and businesses along with several cards, calls, and texts. I had three different individuals in the past two weeks tell me Moose had become “Fairhope Famous.” He has recently appeared in a local weekly blog, a national travel blog, and a magazine. The house is eerily quiet without him here. There is a void in my heart, but I will take comfort in knowing he is in a place where pain, suffering, and sickness are no longer present, and we will be together one day again. You made this life so much grander for our family and many others. You were loved deeply. Rest peacefully.