Otter, my precious protector and partner
On Thursday, May 21, 2026, at 10:30, Otter crossed the rainbow bridge. My last command to him was, “Go find Karen!” and my daughter said, “She is waiting for him.” I knew this day was approaching, but I did not expect it now.
Kelly goes downstairs early to get ready for work and was quite upset. Otter not only tossed his last meal, but threw up three more times and pooped on the carpet. In the 10 years he was with me, he never had a problem like that. He then wanted to go outside and slowly climbed the steps. He stayed out quite a while in a heavy rain, which he normally hated. When Kelly went to check on him, he was laying in the yard. I think he wanted to die outside but could not find a hiding place. Trying to get him back down, it was obvious he was in so much pain in his back legs that he could not descend the steps.
He was on pain medication that was injected into his hips at the beginning of each month. I told her to just give him another shot to give him some relief. He even refused food that morning, including a pain pill disguised as a treat. He made it halfway down the steps and just sat there. I called the vet, explained the situation, and told them, “It is time.” She told me whenever I could get him there, they would be ready.
Otter loved the vet and the staff, but he did not even lift his head to greet them. The only excitement he showed was for some very special treats they keep for dogs in this situation — Hershey Kisses. He ate about ten of them and looked for more. The vet has a large staff, and one girl asked if she could intrude to say goodbye. At least seven girls, all crying, came in to say goodbye to Otter. They all loved him.
I told them a few stories about Otter, and my favorite memory was how we argued at certain intersections. Otter was the proverbial route traveler. On our first day of training, we walked up three blocks, made a right on 12th, then a left on Market and went about ten more blocks. Returning home, we reversed the route. From that day on, whenever we walked back on Market and reached 12th Street, he always insisted on making a right. That is when the argument would start. If Otter could speak, I think the conversation would have gone something like this: Otter: “Ok Dad, I got this. We are going up the hill, turning left, and heading home.” Me: “No! Find straight! I do not want to go home right now.” Otter: “Dad, this is the best way!” Me: “No! Find straight.” Otter: “Really think we should go up the hill.” Me: “No! Find straight.” Otter: “Are you sure?” Me: “Absolutely.” Otter, reluctantly: “Ok, you win.” I eventually got to the point where I looked forward to the argument and sometimes let him think he was correct. About fifty feet before the intersection, I would say either “Find right!” or “Find straight,” depending on where I wanted to go. When I gave the “find right” command, his tail wagged, his head went up, and he looked proud. When I said “find straight,” his tail stopped wagging. It was so funny to watch. I think that is my favorite memory of the boy.
Although there are so many wonderful memories this is another favorite: Otter aka Clepto This was one truly embarrassing moment., Otter loves plush toys. I took him to the groomer about two weeks before our first Christmas. After he was spit shined, the groomer brought him out on long leash. Now, In the waiting area there are shelves of plush toys. In an eyeblink he lunged and snagged this real big red bone. They discounted it for me , it is probably the most expensive toy in his collection. He loved it and was so proud of his prize. He took great care of it for ten years often using it as a pillow. For his account they changed his name from Otter aka Clepto.
Several months later I took him to Dr. Landis for his first free eye exam. I told her a few stories including him stealing a toy at the groomer. After the exam, she ask if she could take him back to show the staff. When she came out she was really laughing, saying he really is a thief. At the hospital they have some plush toys for the cats and dogs that stay overnight after surgery. Without her noticing, he snagged a toy on his way back.
It took both of my daughters and a neighbor to get him into the van. They got him onto a blanket and used it like a stretcher. At the vet’s office, the two girls who brought the gurney were both crying while petting him and telling him he was the best dog they had ever worked with. His passing was so peaceful, and he enjoyed some candy right beforehand. I guess he was thinking, “I was never allowed to have this before.”
Otter was my fourth guide from Freedom Guide Dogs. Karen had watched my previous guides — Indy, Micah, and Toga — and she noticed that Otter and I had formed a total bond within three or four hours. With Otter, I felt as if the other three guides were also with me. Otter showed personality traits from each of them. I never really saw shared traits between Indy, Micah, and Toga, but somehow Otter carried pieces of all three. Indy was a fantastic guide and had a sense of humor much like Otter. Micah and I had an incredibly strong bond — maybe a little too strong. When the kids were small, they could not play with him unless I stayed in the room. If I left, he followed me. He also annoyed me at mealtimes because I had to stay in the kitchen until he finished eating, and he ate very slowly. If I walked away, he would stop eating to follow me. Otter also had a strong bond with me, but he would never leave food behind to follow me.
Toga loved plush toys and took care of them just like Otter did. One funny thing about Toga was that she had OCD tendencies. She carefully arranged her toys in an upside-down U-shape. She would step back, examine them, move them around until the shape was perfect, and then lay down inside the pattern. Both Toga and Otter were very possessive of their toys. They could be happily playing with one toy, but if I picked up another, they would immediately come take it away from me and then go back to the original toy they had been playing with.
So, with Otter, it was like having all four of my guides wrapped into one beautiful package. Right now, I feel so empty without both Otter’s and Karen’s presence. I am grateful for the time we had together and will never forget Becky. She did a remarkable job as his puppy raiser, and I will always cherish the memory of the day she drove to Pottsville to see Otter. I am sure she saw the love I had for that wonderful big ball of fur.
A dear friend Pastor Marianne wrote this poem for me: Lenny knew the sidewalks by memory and sound— the hiss of buses kneeling low, the sparrows hopping 'round, the clink of cups from diners, the church bell’s solemn chime, the steady paws beside him, keeping rhythm, keeping time. Otter was his Labrador, broad-hearted, calm, and wise, trained by Freedom Guide Dogs with gentle, watchful eyes. He guided Lenny faithfully past every crack and curb, through rainstorms, snow, and summer heat, without a single word. At times they’d walk to the Barber Shop, three blocks and one red light, where clippers hummed like honeybees from morning until night. Lenny liked to go there, to laugh and tell old tales, while Otter rested at his feet and thumped his heavy tail. But sometimes on the corner, when the haircut time was through, Lenny would decide he had “one extra thing to do.” Perhaps the corner grocery, or the hardware store instead— while Otter planted firmly and refused to forge ahead. “go straight right here now, Lenny’d say, with stubbornness and grin. But Otter would not budge an inch— he knew the safest win. Traffic growled like distant thunder, danger crossed the lane, and Otter the Retriever stood resolute against impatience’ reign. So there they’d have their arguments, man and dog alone, upon that busy corner just a few blocks from their home. Till Lenny got his way at last, And Otter led him back beneath the sky so blue. A bond between dog and man A love so strong and true. This morning heaven opened wide beyond what eyes can see, and somewhere past the shining gate, beyond eternity, a Labrador named Otter runs where pain will never trod, his leash exchanged for endless joy within the hands of God. And maybe angels smile to hear a familiar loving spat: “Otter, wait—I’ve one more stop.” “But Dad, we finished that.” This bond of love does not grow dim, nor leave when life is through. A faithful guide still walks beside the heart that he once knew. (Dear Lenny, it's not a perfect poem, but I hope it brings you some comfort. Feel free to edit as you wish. Lovingly, Pastor Marianne)
Amy, A nurse that worked with me after my bypass surgery sent me this: What a sweet tribute to your everlasting friendship. My sister has some type of poem tatooed on her arm, it goes something like this...If you love one dog and lose one, they remain in your heart, you have never have lost them, if you have a 2nd , 3rd, 4th, eventually your heart will filled up with all of your doggie loves. Your never alone! I wrote back my heart has 4 chambers and all are now occupied.