Summit Wellness: One of a Kind - Martin the Dog

By Marc Lee Shannon - Summit FM Feel Better-ER Host

It was a December day when the decision came to make a move and go on the search for the next best friend of the Shannon boys and their dad. Now divorced for seven years, the family had seen its share of ups and downs, and by then, everyone was ready for the next chapter. A new furry friend and hopefully some love and cheer brought to fix the melancholy in the family's broken-hearted house on Brentwood Blvd.

It was a chance online ad for the “Adopt-A-Thon,” on a Saturday at the Twinsburg Humane Society that caught our attention, and off we went in the black Ford Explorer, the family hauler, with some holiday music on the radio and very high hopes in hand.

When we arrived, we discovered long corridors lined on each side with many choices of canine companions ready to be adopted and escorted to a new home and life. I told my boys we should split up and meet at the end of the line to compare choices and impressions. We did, and two stood out: a beagle and a sad but curious, well-mannered shepherd shar-pei mix, which we all felt hit the mark and gave us the right feels. We headed back to find out that immediately the beagle was taken by way of an “on hold” to be adopted sign, so we made our way to the end of a row of barking jumping pitties and a big, brown-eyed soulful fellow down on all fours looking up.

As I got down on one knee and said, “Hey, dude.” he took his big paw and put it up in the chain link fence as if to say, “Please, man, get me out of here.” For the dog named Martin and the Shannon boys and dad, it was love at first sight.

So many stories followed from that first day. Like running out a somehow left-open front door and jaunting into the neighborhood barking, “Free at last, thank God almighty!” to the nights when he would slowly hesitate to come into my bedroom, a smoky, alcohol-fueled, depressed hiding sanctuary before I got sober. We eventually landed at the happy house two years into my sobriety in Cuyahoga Falls, and in the isolated days of the pandemic, we walked three or four miles daily. Always leading the charge, he would sniff and tinkle and look back with delight as if to say, “Isn't it great to be alive, Dad?”

He was and always will be the best friend ever for this writer—non-human or not.

Martin the Dog was there when I went to my first AA meetings, waiting for me in the parked Ford and sitting in the driver's seat. He was there when I needed a walk to air my regrets from Substance Use Disorder and my post-acute withdrawal confused brain. He was there when I sat up late playing guitar, writing songs, or up early writing the essays of Sober Chronicles for the Devil Strip magazine that eventually became the book I would publish in 2022. He was there throughout every step of the journey of discovery along the path to recovery. He was there for it all.

In November of 2022, he went down in the backyard of that house in C-Falls, unable to get back up. He had a melanoma removed in 2020 but had recovered and showed no symptoms of the Cancer lurking within. I took him to the vet, and it was clear that there was only so much time left for this brave warrior. The kind and compassionate professional explained that surgery was an option, but it might be hard for him, was not guaranteed, and was very expensive. In the end, after more discussion and tears, the suggestion was made to keep a close eye on my friend and to “Feed Him Steak and Eggs.”

Amen.

The following April, he went down again in the afternoon on the 2nd night of my run of the sold-out stage presentation of “Sober Chronicles” at the Akron Civic’s Wild Oscars. I was not able to be with him on that last day at the last moments as there was no time to cancel, but my son and soon-to-be wife were able to hold his gaze and his paws as he crossed over. His last and final wish for me was to be happy, as I knew he knew I was finally okay, with a new life and season beginning as a happily married man. Somehow, he knew I would finally be ok, so his departure was OK. Dad will be fine. Anyway, I am sure that’s what I saw in his eyes as he raised his head for my hand to touch his warm, wet nose for the very last time.

I am curious to know how they know. Those mystical creatures that somehow make their way into our lives when they are needed the most. How do they know when to comfort, to saunter over to our side to rub against our thigh when our spirits need that rise and lift? How do they know?

Well, maybe there is something in the fact that DOG spelled backward is….

Miss you, buddy. I will see you again someday; I know it. Till next time, Stay Standing, Steady On, and Feel Better-ER™.