When you walk into E’s house, invited or uninvited, Cairo, their almost 7-year-old Doberman will bring you a shoe in greeting. Is it a cheap shoe that he chews on you ask? No…no it’s not, it might be J’s dress shoe or Nike running shoe or E’s stilettos or wedges! Yep, Cairo had a liking for good quality shoes and bringing it to you was his sign of accepting you into their family. I’d often find shoes, slippers and sandles in his bed, long thought of as lost or forgotten.
Cairo also had a love for food – any food, cake, meat, flour, paper towel? Oops that’s not a food item, but trust me, if you left it in his view, it would be chewed to pieces and remains would be left all over the floor, couch, kitchen table for E and J to clean up later.
He was the smartest dog I ever met. He managed to figure out how to get himself out of locked doors time and time again – the contraptions E and J have on their bedroom door looks more for prisoners or escape artists than for a Doberman, but Cairo was clever. He had no trouble doing exactly what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it.
You’d think that maybe this made him unlikable, but it was actually quite the opposite. Cairo, and their other Doberman Vegas, are probably two of the most loved dogs that have ever existed. I don’t mean just by their owners, I mean by everyone who lays eyes on them.
If someone new came around, Cairo demanded attention. If your hand was not placed on his head or body he would push his head onto you until you gave up and petted him, and don’t you dare stop after a minute because the whole process will start again. He looked terrifying – he was a 90 pound Doberman after all, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t hurt a fly if it landed on his nose. I’ve never seem him aggressive, he loved E and J till his last breath and we, his friends, loved him just as much.
There are a lot of sad people today. Cairo passed away yesterday two weeks before his 7th birthday. His brother from another mother Vegas will now be alone and E and J are heartbroken. Their dogs are their everything. I miss him. I’m grateful he is no longer suffering, but the selfish parts of us want him back, want him to give us our shoes when we come in and shove his way onto our little laps in order to receive some loving. I’d do anything to have the opportunity to push him away and giggle when his massive body jumped on the couch with our noses touching to have my hands petting him.
Goodbye Cairo, my friend. Wreak havoc in puppy heaven!