As Fate Would Have It


An iconoclast with class


The End
Nigel Prescott, American-born statesdog, philosopher, adventurer, essayist, barrister, mixologist, canine behaviorist, pioneering dog blogger and ball player (he sometimes went by "Shoeless Nige") died Saturday, April 28, 2007 in his doggie dad's arms at a veterinary clinic in Palm Harbor, Florida.
He died of complications from living an extremely long and happy life.
He was somewhere between 15-and-a-half or 17.
Nigel was timeless, but he was not ageless.
The Beginning
As a legendary wire fox terrier, the facts regarding Nigel's beginnings are suitably misty. Born sometime between 1990 and 1991, he may have been born in or around Brooklyn, New York into a litter that included his brother Harry. "The Lucky Dog Brothers," as they were sometimes referred to, more than likely made their home in New York or Connecticut. They were the pampered and adored wires of a young man whose untimely death left the two dogs, at the age of 6 or 7, in danger of being "put to sleep."
Fate intervened, in the guise of a kindly and savvy secretary who looked into wire fox terrier rescue and discovered the names of Frank and Caroline Mouris, the wire breeders behind Br'er Fox Kennels outside of Nassau, New York.
They were not named The Lucky Dog Brothers for nothing.
Frank rescued the two brothers from their peril in Connecticut and brought them to his home for placement.
Nigel was the brainy brother; Harry the handsome. After some time had passed, an older couple from Poughkeepsie whose wire had recently died drove to meet Nigel and Harry.
The dog brothers interviewed the couple. Harry lavished affection upon them; Nigel, however, did not.
Harry left with the couple and moved to Poughkeepsie to begin life as Harry Ginsburg, loving wire son of Gordon and Dorothy. He entered into a life of adoration, afternoon tea and biscuits and keeping company.
Nigel was left at the Mouris Ranch to ponder the remainder of his life. His reserve had cost him a home.
A granddaughter who wanted a companion for her grandfather came upon Nigel. He left the Mourises and began life as a dog. A yard dog.
Nigel gambled with his fate and howled. He howled frequently and with gusto. After a month of Nigel's bellows, Nigel's new master requested an interstate rendezvous with the Mourises.
Nigel was returned to the Mourises care and ranch.
He again pondered his fate.
As Memorial Day weekend 1998 approached, Caroline posted a notice about Nigel's adoption "availability" on a wire fox terrier site: "One of two wire brothers I recently adopted out is back (not his fault). If anyone is interested, please contact me."
Nigel's fate was to be decided in a relatively new format: the Internet.
Caroline received word that yes, someone was interested: a couple in Florida, who had a female wire puppy and wanted another wire in their family.
"The wire's name is Nigel. He IS older," noted Caroline. He is around 7. He is a gentleman on a leash and a joy to groom. But if you just want him to babysit your puppy Gimlet, forget it. Nigel is a wonderful dog who deserves the best."
The couple had to prove their mettle.
But Fate decreed that Nigel would retire to Florida.
And vagabond that he was, he hitched a ride in early September with Florida wire folks Dave and Marsha Gemmer, who were showing that year at the terrier show at The Montgomery Kennel Club. The Mourises drove from New York to transfer Nigel into the Gemmer's care. A crate was bought for him, but Nigel did not ride in it. No, he planted himself on a rear seat in the couple's RV while the family wires were lodged in the back ... in their crates. That is how he rode in style from Pennsylvania to Palmetto, Florida, on his way to a new life.
On September 7, 1998, Nigel met his new family.
He displayed supreme disinterest in them.
'What an unusual wire," they cooed. "We love him!"
Nigel entered into his new career as Nigel Prescott, Floridian, on September 7, 1998. The birth date, he often noted, of England's Queen Elizabeth I.

Nigel and his new dad in The Terrier Temple, in the back yard of their Dunedin home. Sept. 7, 1998.
Photo by Joe the Cat

The Florida Years
Nigel brought a bit of Edith Wharton's New York when he arrived at his new home in Dunedin, Florida. His reserve was palpable, but he did have a sense of playfulness. "Nigel must have a ball!" Caroline had insisted, so tennis balls were thrown at his feet. He also had a bit of the William Powell/Nick Charles wryness mingled with independence and cool appraisal. A Mr. Nigel cocktail, as it were. He later created a cocktail modeled on his traits:

The Mr. Nigel, signature libation of Mr. Doodle's Dog.

Photo by doggie dad
Nigel in his 1971 Chevy Bel Air, beginning his Fall 1999 roadtrip to Canada. He was later detained on suspicion of narcotics trafficking at the border by Canadian authorities, but was released when he argued that no one would smuggle drugs in such an old car.
Nigel traveled frequently with his dad: sojourns to Canada, New York, Auburn, Alabama and Tallahassee soothed his wanderlust. He enjoyed dips in the salty waters off Honeymoon Island State Park in Dunedin. He loved to swim, play tug and fetch. The catch was that Nigel did not do the fetching: he ran AFTER a thrown ball but then threw the ball down like a challenge at the thrower's feet.
He was not the average dog. He was not the average wire. He was a dog of exceptions who proved himself to be exceptional in everything life presented to him.
He possessed those things in life that all dogs yearn for: a loving family and dog-friendly home, good furniture to sprawl upon, a large front window from which to observe the neighbors on parade, a dog door, a fenced-in backyard and a daily home-cooked dinner. No cans of dog food or dry kibble for this bon vivant.
And he had Gimlet. A younger, wee wire who wished to play and play with him. He sometimes indulged her.
More often, he did not.
But that was Nigel's way.
His charm always arrived two steps ahead of him, giving him instant entry into any situation. He was as at home at a cocktail party as he was at a barbecue. He enjoyed people and they enjoyed him. His credo maintained there were no strangers, only good laps.
Nigel enjoyed his years penning Mr. Doodle's Dog. Dog blogs can be found on any internet street corner now, but Nigel was one of the pioneers of the format. He won two Peebody Awards for his ruminations on life. He walked away when his eyesight began to fail him. His nature was that of an optimist, but he became apprehensive of the turn domestic events were taking.
And so he retired from the blogging scene, and his swimming, and his ball playing. He took to solitary walks in his garden after long walks in Hammock Park began to tire him.
He gave the illusion of effortless mastery of life. He approached life, and its end, with confidence and bravery. We could go on with Nigel's good qualities, but he would be aghast at the invasion of his privacy. He loved to chronicle events and not necessarily himself.

This unassuming wire who was probably born to a back yard breeder in Brooklyn used his sharp intelligence and charm to overcome any obstacle Fate threw at him. He lived to a great old age and remained independent up to his final moments.
He leaves behind his loving parents, his younger sister (me), Joe the Cat (who always showed him much kindness), a foster brother, foster parents, grandmother and aunt and his friends. He asked that he be mourned for a suitable time, but no longer.
Nigel insisted that after some time has passed we resume Mr. Doodle's Dog. The cataracts now fallen from his eyes, he sees very plainly that there is room for an astral canine blogger and yes, there are interviews to be had with fellow scribes Kurt Vonnegut and David Halberstam ... and their dogs.
He further insists that we not forget Eugene O'Neill. The playwright who gave us this entry deserves a post or two.
There are no second acts, but there is still a bit of Nigel if we only look for him.
-- Gimlet Rose
A tidbit: If Nigel taught me one thing, it's this: always refer to a dog as a "who" and not a "that"... it's all a matter of perspective.


Photo by Joe the Cat
Gimlet and Nigel enjoy a marrow bone break from Mr. Doodle's Dog editorial duties. January, 2004.

Posted: Tue - May 1, 2007 at 07:09 PM          

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