A Brother's Keeper

Fips is the most astonishing dog -- part human and sweet to boot.

Towards dusk, I looked up from the glow box and noticed that Rosco wasn't around. He did not feel nearby either. I checked around and, sure enough, he had gone for an unauthorized pad-about. I looked down at Fips who was looking up at me. "Where's Rosci?" I asked. Fips went to the dining room and looked outside. Outside the dining room, I ask again "Where's Rosco?" Fips looks toward the river and back out at the road. He lead follows to the gate. I open the gate and repeat, "Where's Rosco?" Fips heads down the road toward the bridge.

Fips is walking briskly and does not stop to sniff until we pass over the bridge. He walks to the left of the road and back to the right, where he sniffs briefly. Then down a bit and back to the left. Then to the right where he stays till we get to the Mirabel curve. These quick sniffs lead me to conclude that he is scenting for Rosco and not just getting distracted. After all, why in the world am I predisposed to thinking that Rosco left in a straight line?

At the crest of the curve, Fips stops to sniff by the pine needles and leaves. This is a usual sniffing spot for both of them. I look down the road and see nothing. I peer harder and think I detect a dark spot in the greyness of the asphalt. I squint ... yes ... the dark spot is moving ... getting closer.

"Oh Rosci!" I reach down and pat him. Fips is wagging his tail and hop-humping about Rosco. Rosco is not in the mood and gives a mild snap. "Oh no, Rosco," say as I pet the two of them. I don't scold Rosco or encourage Fips. We then make our way back.

Returning home, Fips will not stop his circling around Rosco. His tail is wagging and he nudges Roscoe's ear and butt. Near the bridge, Fips humps. Rosco stands still, morosely uninterested. "C'mon you guys; lets go back now."

Back inside the gate, I return to the glow box. After a while I noticed that neither dog is inside. I get up and look for them. I find them by the truck. Rosco is staring into the neighbor's yard and Fips is sitting by staring at Rosco. I figure I'll let them work out whatever is going on.

Somewhat later, Rosco his back inside and I notice that he is definitely not his self. He is lethargic and shivering mildly. I kneel down to feel him up and check him out, as he lays on his side. Fips is standing right by. He looks at me, looks at Rosco and looks back at me. His eyes reflect a combination of concern, curiosity and expectation...as if to say, "Are you going to make it OK?" I look at Fips and say, "Yes, Fipsie; Rosco's not OK. He's sick." There is no doubt in my mind that Fips understands. At one point, Fips either licks Rosco's penis or nudges his butt. There's no question that he wants to help.

I check Rosco's ear, paws, gums and nose. They seem normal, but he is decidedly unresponsive. I do a test by walking over to the chew-bone box. Both dogs follow. Fips is excited but Rosco could care less. Poor Rosco is definitely not feeling well.

We walk back to the dining room where Rosco resumes his laying about. I lay alongside, stroking him while I think about it. Fips pulls up into the crook of me knees and hangs his head over my thigh looking at me and at Rosco.

I am amazed. This is not just joining the cuddling. It is not mere curiousity. It is concerned curiosity. Fips knows something is wrong and is standing by with an aura of brotherly responsibility, even though he expects me to fix it.

There's not much I can do. I massage Rosco's tummy and penis, thinking that maybe he's constipated. Fips looks on. It doesn't seem to do much good and so I eventually stop. With these two critters, one never knows how much of the shivering is drama. So I leave Rosco alone for a while to see just how much of the shivering is purely physical and how much is his way of saying he's not feeling well.

After a brief "departure" I return. Fips is sitting upright by Rosco. Rosco's shivering seems to be only "20%" of what it was. So I leave them alone for a while longer.

After a while, I check up on them again. They are still upstairs. Fips has not left Rosco's side and Rosco is still laying on his side. At this point, I call the vet to talk things over and to make pre-arrangements should I have to call her at 3 a.m.

Poisoning is the main concern. We go over the details of the area, likely causes and so on. Lisa says that if it was freon "he's toast" no matter what. There's nothing that can be done. But we decide that there was not likely to be any freon where he was walking. What about snail bait, rat poision and the like? What kind of "trembling" and "shivering" are we talking about? I ask. She says that I would know it when I saw it. There's "brr-brrr" type shivering, there's convulsions and vomiting and, in between, there, shaking, spasdicating type trembling. Rosco's seems to have the first and which is indicative of general discomfort. So we decide to wait and keep an eye on things.

I go back to the glow box and after a while, still not noticing the dogs, I check around. Roscoe is on the front "lawn" and Fips is standing by him. I walk over, check them out and return inside. The dogs follow.

Keeping an eye on things, I go to bed. Fips is on the bed and Rosco is on the floor. Lights out. I feel Fips jump off the bed. So I get up, turn on the lights and notice that Rosco has gone outside and Fips has followed to the flap of the doggie-door. Rosco heads into the garden, Fips follows. In the beam of the flashlight, I see Rosco lying in the garden and Fips standing by him.

Eventually Rosco comes back inside. I go back to bed. After a while I hear some rustling and get up again. This time I find the two fuzzies in the office. It's obviously going to go on this way all night long and so I decide to lock all the doors so that Rosco will be inside where I can hear him if he starts to convulse or something.

Throughout all of this Fips has never left Rosco's side. I finally doze to sleep with the odd assurance that if something does start to happen, Fips will wake me.

In the morning, Rosco seems to be a little better. Still pokey, but alive. Fips is still shadowing at Rosco's haunchies. I'm pretty blown away by Fips' awareness, sympathy and sense of responsibility. He knows, he wants to do something and no question but that he loves his little brother.

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