Shinto was the the Japanese hearth religion that believed the spiritual permeated the world and was present in animals. Shinto was my spiritual companion, my soulmate. From that bundle of love to the great defender and hunter he became he was always a joy and marvel.
I’d leave him at home when I went to work in Comox coming back at noon to feed and walk him. I lived with a grave yard behind the Anglican Church manse I was renting. We’d walk there. As well we’d go to the beaches around and he’d come on long forest hikes. He loved to fetch. In the fall I’d lace wings of ducks and grouse to boards to teach him to retrieve birds.
I’d bought the Vanagon as much for him so that I could leave him in the Van when I had to go inside to work.
There are so many stories that come to mind. I always had a cat. Moon was the first.she thought of Shinto as her own. Moon had a litter of kittens. I was home drunk and the door to my bedroom had closed. Moon was terrorizing Shinto to get out of the bedroom or wake me up or whatever. He obviously needed to pee but it was more than that. The cat was up in arms with her kittens. I was hungover and unwilling to get up. I brushed him aside a couple of times despite the sounds of hissing and whimpering. Then I looked up and there was Shinto squatting on my chest taking a dump. He flew outside, carried with me departing the bed, going through the doors and chucking him outside in the back yard. The cat seemed relieved. I had to shower. Shinto remains the one dog that lived to tell of his taking a big steaming crap on his owners chest. I deserved it.
Shinto became a great hunting dog. Bill Mewhort ,not quick to praise another man’s dogs, was thoroughly impressed with Shinto.
I was once on a mound and watched him chase a grouse in the bushes below me bringing this bird in a wide circle till he was just perfectly placed so his flush would make a perfect shot. At that point I saw Shinto increase speed and nip the bird’s tail. The bird took flight and made a perfect trajectory in front of me. I’d been so mesmerized by Shinto’s skill that I wasn’t prepared and missed the perfect shot.
Shinto was miffed. He had such a personality. The rest of the hunt he pouted. Didn’t range, walked by my side but didn’t raise birds for me. I envisioned him putting an ad in a doggy newspaper looking for another hunting partner. He’d fired me. Thankfully I shot a bird which he duly fetched and I was once again in his good graces.
He’d raise grouse which would fly up in trees and hide. With his keen sense of smell and his ear for the little cooing noise grouse make on perch he’d follow them through the woods and barking bring me to where they were hiding above in the green foliage. I’d easily shoot them off the tree with a head shot from my 22 rifle.Shinto was so happy with our team on those occasions.
Deer hunting I remember this one occasion we were hunting and this man asked us at noon if my dog could track a deer. He’d shot it and it had got away but he was sure it was a mortal wound. I said sure knowing Shinto had tracked fallen game for me and tracked live game as well. He immediately picked up the scent and with me running behind him shortly began barking. There he was standing on the fallen buck, proud as could be. I joined him but when the man came up he growled at him. It was our deer and this fellow wasnt’ getting any of it.
When I moved back to Vancouver and went to work at the Asylum Shinto would stay in the Vanagon while I worked. I’d come out and walk him at night and sometimes visit for a bit during the days. This one occasion I was leaving and he was with me when I was called to the dangerously insane ward.
“There’s a man whose come to us without the transfer paper work. We don’t know why he’s here. The female nurses want him kept locked up and say he gives them a really bad feeling. The men think he’s fine. Would you be able to see him before you go. We’d’ like to let him out in the common area”.
I came over, Shinto on heel beside me. He never broke heel. Except this occasion. As soon as we entered the ward, he b -lined right for this nondescript fellow sitting alone in the common area. Standing 5 feet in front of him he began snarling and barking. I ‘d never seen or heard him do anything like this.i walked to the front desk with Shinto guarding the guy and said,
“My guess is that’s the guy.”
“Yes,’ the male nurse said.
“My vote’s with the women. Put him back in the locked cell until we know more about him. I’ve never seen my dog do anything like that.”
They put him in the locked cell. Shinto settled immediately wagging his tail and coming to my side. I’d later learn that the man had killed and rapped a woman and was sent to us because psychotic he’d raped a nurse and hurt another. Shinto had great instincts. Later when I had my own office he’d always sit with me and his reactions to patients provided great insights. He was never wrong.
He liked her though he was my dog. When we moved to Parksville he loved it. He was funny. Once I looked all over for him and he’d climbed into “ His Vanagon ’ and slept there. The message was he wanted to go for a ride.
I had lots of cats in Parksville. When Moon had her litter I’d watch her come down from upstairs where the kitties were and walk over to Shinto and rub noses. She’d then go out hunting while Shinto looking like the world was on his shoulders would climb up the stairs and lie down in front of the kittens. Just to see, I tried to get him to come, calling him, offering steak, nothing got him to move from his guard duty till Moon would return with a bird or mouse and let him go. Then he’d bound to where I was wanting the steak now that’d he’d done the heavy work.
The neighbour was a surly fellow with a mean old collie that attacked dogs that walked down the street. He was a sneaky fellow. He did his surprise chargeand bolled Shinto over having caught him completely unaware Then he was trying for Shinto’s throat but Shinto twisted away as I moved To get between them. The next time we walked down the street the dog tried the same maneuver but Shinto ,now prepared ,met his charge The dog fight to beat all dog fights ensured. I stood back. I figured it was a good match. I assumed I’d face vet bills for one or both. Rolling and snapping and up on hind legs they had at her till the collie submitted and slunk away. Shintowas noticeably proud. I was too. “That’s my boy!” Everyone was glad because they’d had to alter their walks to avoid this mean dog but no longer.. That dog stayed in his yard and Shinto was king. I was so proud.
Shinto was my constant companion. Hunting he’d find all the grouse and raise some more. He didn’t like swimming or ducks though.
The first time I was horseback hunting with my native world champion Broncho riding friend Wayne and my wife, I saw a great green mallard drake in the river. I slipped off my horse got my shot gun out of the scabbard and shot it as it took flight. It was high when I brought it down. I’d waited because though it was dawn there were farms in the area. There were four of us on horse. I now sent Shinto for the duck but he refused . Finally he swam over. But rather than bring the duck back, he dropped it on the other bank , spitting out oily feathers ,as much to say, “I don’t do ducks’. Though I called him he just stayed there with the duck.
I stripped and swam over, kicked him and swam back with the duck, Shinto swimming sheepishly back with me, me carrying the duck. My native friends were laughing uproariously and gave me the native name ‘man who fetches duck for dog”.
That was the day we did Man from Snowy River. My wife was an excellent horsewoman. She’d trained in dressage but hadn’t ridden wild like I had. With my grand dad and later in Manitoba and with my uncle cowboy and my dad’s cowboy and cow girl friends we just rode horses as if they were our bicycles. They were a friendly means of transport. There was no competition. I certainly didn’t look good but after being on bucking horses and being thrown by horses when rabbit ran in front of them and falling off horses jumping creek I’d learned to hang on and stay with the group. My wife was in heaven. WAyne was the greatest rider and a regular horse whisperer. Shinto had a great time running along side the horses avoiding getting under foot.
We were at the top of the mountain when Wayne said “lets go!” And over the side he went. He headed straight down with my wife having the ride of her life. I was on this great Morgan who decided to do the trip on two legs. It took all my attention to get him to shift into four wheel drive. When finally he did he barrelled straight down and catching up with the first two horses. Wayne’s friend was riding behind us. Shinto was running full out beside us.
When we hit the plain Wayne kept right on going and we galloped across this great field , the light going and the moon rising. Shinto was in glee. It was an unforgettable once in a lifetime day.. We never shot or even saw a deer at the top of the mountain or in the valley but we all had the time of our lives.
In Parksville shortly after we moved in across from Marion, she said, “we lost some chickens last night. I saw the culprit. I think it was Shinto.”
“Oh no,”I said. “Shinto would never hurt domestic chickens. He’s only a wild bird hunter.” I waxed poetic and promised that it couldn’t be Shinto.”
“I’ll show you ,” I said, going home to bring back Shinto.
“I walked into her yard and the Chickens were in the yard. Shinto was on heel. Everything was looking good. The next moment all hell broke out. Shinto was a lightning monster reigning havoc on the chickens with me screaming and chasing him and Marion trying to help. 6 of her prize chickens were dead in less minutes. Shinto standing looking very pleased with himself white feathers all over his face. I’d pay Marion for the 10 chickens altogether that Shinto had killed , in a couple of days, 6 in front of my eyes. No, not my dog.
I’d get chickens of my own and do some serious training until Shinto could have chicks crawling over him. I had to teach Moon and Calico the same things. These birds are family. He soon differentiated chickens from grouse.
He’d ride with us across Canada, befriend my dog loving father and mother, and come down to California in the Vanagon.
Then he’d be a boat dog on my 40 foot Folkes sailing vessel.
He was enamoured with the dolphins. They’d always join us when we were motoring liking the bow wave, being attracted by the particular boat engine sounds. They knew our boat. Shinto knew them. Suddenly he’d be running up and down the deck loudly barking gleefully as the dolphins jumped out of the water and splashed him. They’d sometimes at anchor come up and look at him up close. Friends.
Sailing down to Mexico was a different story. One morning we were under power with the autopilot set. She was in the cabin and I was making coffee. There was this faint whimper bark , woof , woof. It was so unusual. Shinto was walking back and forth on the deck but not barking.
Right beside us was an 80 foot grey whale and it was like Shnto was saying, “I’m required to alert my master but I won’t bark. I don’t want to disturb you “. He was definitely humbled and impressed by this great creature swimming beside us. He’d not have such a reaction to Orcas though he’d not bark loudly at them.either. Dolphins and he were having fun together whereas whales were serious mammals. He respected them and was clearly mollified by their size. They’re truly majestic. To have these great creatures swim along side you so you could reach out and touch them and go their way was quite the experience. For a little dog it was multiplied a hundred fold.
In Mexico the dogs would come at him two at a time, a little distraction , nip and run. It was a dirty game so I got together with Shinto when they tried this grabbing the sneaky dog by the scruff and lifting him off the ground leaving Shinto to easily scare off the other mutt. We were a team. We had each other’s back. I always felt safe with him.
In the woods he’d alert me to wolves and bear. I’d be tenting and have him and a gun by my side and sleep like a kitten. He was man’s best friend.
Back in Vancouver after the trauma of my divorce and my being away, he didn’t know what was happening and I’m sure stress contributed to his death.
He ‘d come with me to the cabin in the moutains where I was sober and we walked the hills together. He was a delight in those days. I was sad, lonely and he was there. Always happy always wanting to go for a trip , go for a walk, fetch a stick, always up for adventure. I’d say I was taking him for a walk but he was taking me.
When I was back in Vancouver again and had a new practice, my life on a new road he became ill. It was like he’d stood beside me through all that time and now felt he could go. I believe animals buffer the psychic attacks and take the wounds which without their help would kill you. I believe that Shinto sacrificed himself for me when I was fighting lying burocrats and lying ex wives and just trying to survive.
He developed stomach cancer. I’d taken him to the vet and got a second opinion. It was inoperable. He was in pain. I had him put down. He was 11 years old, 77 years old in human years.He’d had a good life. . The best friend a man could ever have. The vet was wonderful. We stood together and I was with him at the end. Even now I cry thinking of him and how much he gave to my life.
Good boy, Shinto. Good boy.
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