The passing of an icon

King, whose real-life image exists as the readily recognizable icon for our pursuit of the unbiased and unfiltered truth in radio and print, fought valiantly against his cancer and nearly debilitating arthritis like no other canine and few humans I have ever known. Last Saturday afternoon during early autumn like conditions, King lost his courageous battle with this hideous disease. But as strong-willed as he was in life, so too was he in death, for he seemed to die on his own terms, at the time and place of his choosing, with my wife and me at his side.

He would have celebrated his tenth birthday sometime next month, although we’ll never know the exact date as he came into our lives unexpectedly on a blustery Christmas day in 2004. We accepted him into our home as a small puppy who was underweight and malnourished, who was deliberately and unceremoniously abandoned by someone’s unconscionably inhumane decision and selfish actions. Ultimately, it was their loss, for King proved to be the most valued friend and protector our family could ever have. He grew from a small handful of mottled and frozen fur with a bloated belly into a 130 pound family member whose near human-like intellect and instincts far surpassed whoever left him. Moreover, he will live on forever as the iconic symbol of watchmen worldwide, as the symbol of those in dogged pursuit of truth. An icon of courage and integrity, with an almost supernatural intensity and sense of purpose. Much like our position as watchmen, King “stumbled” into his position as the icon of our endeavors. Like us, he did not ask for his particular position, but accepted it without reservation. He even became quite a celebrity in his own right, and was “adopted” by a huge number of followers of our radio program, The Hagmann & Hagmann Report. His picture is on countless bumper stickers, circular and oval logos as the living symbol of our search for truth buried in a field of lies. He even received occasional e-mails, a few dog bones, and even some holistic medication from some very kind and generous listeners.

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As he matured into his position as the icon of watchmen, King seemed to become much more protective of his home and family. Although he was loving, he was quick to assess and judge people by their actions, and was intolerant of threats to our well-being. If he sensed or saw danger, he protected us by leading us out of the way through a nudge or a pull on our coat tails. If that was ineffective, he would venture ahead of us and “stand in the gap,” selflessly protecting us from what was ahead. He was often protecting us from ourselves. He could sense deception and quickly discern the truth, and through his actions, helped us to do the same. He taught us how to be honest watchmen, a quality all of us must learn and perfect in the coming days. He taught us to be judgmental and even intolerant, for it is our failure or unwillingness to judge and to tolerate the intolerable that leads us on a path of self-destruction. Yes, you read that correctly. We need to become more intolerant and more judgmental, not less. Like King, we need to be fearless in the face of evil, and recognize evil and deception when we see it. We need to be honest with ourselves and with others, and to loudly warn others of the growing number of threats we are facing from all sides. King seemed to be able to discern deception, ill will or plain evil, and was unafraid to alert us loudly to such dangers. He didn’t care what others thought and was impervious to criticism when he felt the need to expose perils through his growl or bark, or worse, his silent stare. Yet, how many two-legged watchmen quickly scamper away with their tails between their legs, whimpering at the first volley of criticism lobbed at them? King taught us an important lesson here, a lesson in honesty and integrity at all costs. He taught us to stand our ground in the face of criticism, follow our God-given instincts, or face the consequences. It seems to me we need these qualities in watchmen today more than ever before. Just as he taught us to be watchmen, he taught us perseverance in the face of adversity. “Coach” Dave Daubenmire, founder of Pass the Salt Ministries and a man who is unafraid to take a stand for righteousness, recently asked a question of watchmen on the wall at the White Stone Remnant Conference in Bozeman, Montana. It was a question to watchmen who claimed to stand for the truth but have been seemingly hobbled by the sting of criticism during our fight for truth, justice, liberty and freedom. The kind of criticism that leads to cynicism by others for sounding alarm bells about the direction of our country and leaders. He asked, “Are you injured or just hurt?” Consistent with being a great football coach, Mr. Daubenmire admonished all watchman that unless we’re injured, we need to get back and stay in the game and fight for victory. We can… and must play hurt, for that pain will subside as we continue in the game. It was shortly after the conference that we learned that King was not just playing his position hurt, but playing the game injured. We learned that he had cancer that metastasized from his spleen throughout his entire body, especially his lungs. This, combined with the pain of his severe arthritis, should have sidelined him from his duties. According to the treating veterinarian, King only had a few weeks at most to live. Despite this dire diagnosis, King played through with a surreal vigor, on a mission where every minute counted. He outlived the doctor’s timeline with a steel will. Nonetheless, his physical problems progressed. For the last few months, King had trouble climbing the stairs to our bedroom. Because of his needs, the sofa in our family room became my nighttime bed, where I could be near King and tend to him during the night. The last few weeks, we seemed to fall into a particular routine, where he would wake me up about five o’clock in the morning and we’d take a walk outside, although the walks became shorter as his breathing became more labored. He’d carry one of the nearly 800 baseballs he found over the years in his mouth as it seemed to help him breathe. The last few morning walks, though, he left the ball for me to carry, but he always made sure I had it. He wanted to maintain that sense of normalcy, perhaps. This past Saturday morning, King took a dramatic turn for the worse. When he did not wake me for his walk, my internal body clock jolted me from the couch. I sprung up to find him standing at the door with a knowing, distant look in his eyes. I quietly called his name. Our eyes locked only momentarily, but he knew… and I knew. It was into the afternoon that I, my wife and stepson spent our last precious moments with him. Reluctantly, my stepson left for a business engagement, leaving him in our care. It was an hour later and with a sudden burst of energy combined with confusion, and most certainly the anticipation of his own mortality, King walked down a nearby staircase, where he laid at the foot of the steps knowing that he would be unable to climb them back to the top. Flanked and being comforted by me and my wife, right there at the landing, King placed his head on the bottom stair and took two final breaths. His body then became limp as the ravages of his cancer no longer held its grip. For the first time in weeks, King looked at peace. It was there that we sat with him for a long while, holding vigil, as our stream of tears dampened his coarse coat. We carefully moved his head from the step and gently placed it on his front paws, giving the almost surreal appearance that he would awaken and jump up from a deep slumber. Joe immediately came when summoned. Together, we carefully wrapped and gently lifted and carried his lifeless body into the very van in which he had ridden so many times since joining our family. This time, it was his final ride to his place of interment. He will be buried near the top of a bluff overlooking many other pets from countless other families, still keeping watch and blazing the way for others into eternity. A watchman’s plaque is being made especially for him, engraved in granite exactly as it appears in our logo. Right at five o’clock Sunday morning, I left the house carrying a leash and a baseball, and walked to King’s most favorite area at the nearby park we would visit. I hung his leash on his favorite tree, and placed the ball in a large, deep knot inside its trunk. As I sat against the tree, the light mist of pre-dawn rain struck my face, covering the tears of emptiness. It was at that moment I heard the words of Coach Daubenmire. “Sure, it hurts. But get back in the game. We’ve got work to do, and it’s what King would not only want, but expect.”