A Little Fuzz Ball

It was early summer (I think), just before dusk. The perfect time of day for shooting baskets, throwing the football, or playing meadow volleyball, when the last of the sun light trickles through the tops of the redwoods and the earth finally begins to radiate off the summer heat into the cooler evening breeze. I was on my way to the Wakemans’ to take advantage of the ideal climate and join Alex in some basketball. I had just crossed the wooden bridge, which years later would be the site of the historic Nate slip of ’02, and was emerging onto the gravel driveway, when I noticed a small furry lump in the corner of the basketball court. When the lump, which was no bigger than a football, began to move, I thought to myself, “Alex must have gotten a new kitten!” But no, that little fuzz ball was Mr. Otto Wakeman, “The Brute” himself; and while his tiny stature did not betray the massive beast of a dog he would become, that he immediately bit my fingers when I petted him, forewarned of an era of impressively destructive chewing exploits.

In honor of Otto, I present:
The Top Five Fondest Otto Memories

1. Otto chewing to the point of destruction countless items, including my minibike helmet, a cordless phone, and the entire passenger seat of the Wakemans’ car. (Not to be out done, his brother apparently destroyed a washer machine!)
2. Trying to tag Otto, while he out maneuvered both Alex and I.
3. Charging down the trail to the trampoline expecting Otto to move out of the way, but getting knocked on my ass.
4. Despite our best efforts, never being able to push Otto into the pool
5. Otto patiently standing there, while Stubby humps his face

With Otto goes one of the last of our childhood dogs and certainly one of the finest. Say hi to Stubby, Tannin, Mandy, and Sylvester for us…you all are missed.