But no, it was true. So, after observing for quite some time, I chose the quietest, most "solid" dog of the group. And they were all magnificent.

On the ride home to North Vancouver, Master Pendragon tossed a few kibbles in the back seat (yes we stopped along the way and watered too!). Further, upon arrival home he immediately ran into the house and piddled in the middle of the wool carpeted living room! The last time he had a problem in either regard!

Uther was nine months old when I brought him home. His socialization had been negligible, but his great spirit and intellect meant that he was willing to accept new things as long as he could try them out for awhile in order to make sure they were not some sort of danger.

He distrusted cheddar cheese for the longest time. Further, he had quite a fear of the basement stairs for awhile. Once he had mastered them he spent days running up and down them as if he had found a new play toy that was just a little dangerous!

Uther came to work with me in all sorts of exotic locales and in some pretty incredible circumstances. This fellow who was afraid of stairs was asked on his first adventure to cross a raging torrent of a stream on the west coast of Vancouver Island just out of Port Alberni. A place called China Creek —although, I remember it then being called Chinaman Creek. Anyway, here this poor fellow had to cross this raging torrent and he was afraid of moving water! Well, he’d never seen it before. But after much coaxing across he came slipping from rounded boulder to rounded boulder. Well, about halfway across in the pouring rain, he slipped in and began to be swept downstream. In a panic I dashed in and hauled him out. After that, he tended to go out of his way to cross on fallen logs.

Further, near the end of that first wet and very trying day, we came to a series of small vertical cliffs. What to do? How was a dog to climb down a cliff? I would climb down ten meters or so to a small ledge and then call the dog to me. He would edge out, try to run down the cliff, and I would catch him free falling. We repeated this a number of times. Again, this was the dog who had been afraid of stairs not too long ago! Talk about brave.

Uther traveled in all sorts of conveyances. He loved helicopters and would get very excited when they flew in. They always went to really cool places. He travelled in small planes: Cessnas and Beavers. Small water craft. Barges. In trucks packed so high you couldn’t imagine a dog finding a space. He always found a space.

When my gear was at the door packed to go, Uther was snuggled up against the gear ready to go too. Could you get a better dog? No.

One day I was working on a little ridge above a small town outside of Penticton. It was a lovely day and there were cattle grazing all about. To say it was pastoral would be stating the obvious. As often was the case, I’d forgotten Uther was there. He always stayed near. Suddenly, he started barking his alarm bark. By the time I looked up, an extremely large black bear was charging down upon me and was well within 100 meters of me. Close beside him was Uther, legs spread wide and barking madly. For what seemed forever, the bear kept coming. Clearly, he was used to people and was not afraid. Eventually, Uther herded it, in what seemed forever, off into some bushes, never to be seen again. And I am quite certain he saved me from at least a severe mauling.

He was everything I’ve ever wanted in a dog. He was 69.6 pounds all his life, until very old and then that time he really sucked up to one of our camp cooks. Uther had a thing for camp cooks. This one he trained to cook for him. She would order in whole turkeys and he would get the choice bits. She was always afraid bears would show up and felt much safer with him around. He eventually stopped going out to work with me, and stayed in camp the whole day. He put on over 5 pounds!

On a new job I’d get out of our mode of transportation and Uther would immediately disappear. Crew members would wonder why I wasn’t worried. I’d go take care of my own business and eventually make my way to the cook shack where he would have befriended another cook. Eventually, I would hear that he was the only dog to ever be allowed in the cook shack. And, oh, do you want to see some of his tricks? He was the master.

Uther, quickly found out how his world worked and then made it work for him.

Inevitably, by dog language I suppose, he would communicate to the other dogs in camp that he was boss. Having wondered how he managed to always do this even though often times he was far from the largest dog, I started watching. What I could figure out was that he was very self composed and intelligent. He basically ignored the other dogs, would mark his new territory, and then go off on his own expedition which was inevitably more interesting than any the other guys had thought up. Very quickly the other dogs realized that if they wanted to be in on the next adventure, they had better follow this guy.

When it would get particularly cold at night, he would happily climb into my sleeping bag and not stir until the next morning. My own hot water poodle!

Uther was never concerned unless I was concerned. I could leave him the back of a truck being repaired and often times the repairman wouldn’t even know he was there. Even though the mechanic had been in and out of the truck a number of times.

People would remark they had never heard him bark even though they’d been with him for weeks on end. Until, of course, some cheating blighter of a squirrel would climb a tree and not come down to play make the furry thing squeak.

To say Uther and I bonded would be underplaying the relationship. I remember the moment when it really struck home how far we had gone when we went to pick Heather up from the airport. Uther always went into the airport and without a leash. I was standing in front of the Flights In screen and we were having a conversation. "See there, she should be here." "No, I think I’m reading this right, what were you suggesting. No, I’m right. That’s her flight number. Well yes, I’m anxious to see her. Yes, I’m sure she’ll make you a turkey dinner." And so on. I was comfortably having a two way conversation with my dog when Heather walked up and pointed out that we seemed to be having a great talk. I suppose we’d been doing it for years. No wonder people seemed to steer a wide berth.

Uther introduced Heather and I when I took him for his check up at the local vet. He was the one who suggested that I was crazy if I didn’t know she was the one. We (as in Uther and I) were walking in Cliff Gilker park at the time.

He was resplendent in black bow tie when he walked Heather down the aisle when we got married. He was the one who went, "Woof", when asked who gives this woman to this man?

When he began to get a little older I suggested to Heather that I would like to have one of his puppies. There would not be another Uther, but the only thing close would be one of his sons. Heather immediatly began a search for Igraine. It took her two years to finally find her. And she went down to Washington State to get her. When she was old enough they had a wonderful litter from which Arthur was the largest and the first born male. He looks very much like his dad except that he is a little taller and five pounds or so heavier.

We found other folks wanted what we wanted in a dog, because that first litter had six puppies in it and they just disappeared. Well, we then decided that perhaps we could be giving some people similar joy to what we have experienced with our dogs. And before you knew it our new life’s work had begun.

So what do we have to owe to this dog? Companionship. Friendship. Loyalty. Intelligent interplay. My life. My relationship with Heather. The work we do —our livelihood. You’d be hard pressed to ever have a friend like that. We owe him so much! Hell, he even leant us his last name.

When painfully Uther finally left us we took him to a spot above our home: off the trail, in the woods, looking down upon a permanent little stream and in a spot where the sun inevitably filters in.

He’s still with us and we feel his presence. And yet, we still miss him. Occasionally, one finds oneself feeling guilty over missing —just a dog- so much. But then, he never was just a dog.