Information

Hans Rostock
Legacy Name: Hans Rostock

The Glade Kumos
Owner: mitzelpic

Age: 14 years, 7 months, 3 weeks

Born: September 13th, 2009

Adopted: 14 years, 7 months, 3 weeks ago (Legacy)

Adopted: September 13th, 2009 (Legacy)

Statistics

• Level: 157
   
• Strength: 390
   
• Defense: 390
   
• Speed: 391
   
• Health: 390
   
• HP: 379/390
   
• Intelligence: 455
   
• Books Read: 452
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

Hans Rostock has been created in loving memory of a beloved family pet named Hans Rostock Wolfgang Von Koberg I.A rather pretentious name for a dog, true, but as it turned out he was the smartest, most amazing dog I ever knew, and quite fit the name.

He was born in the Spring of 1956 in Edina, Minnesota. He came from an AKC registered purebred German Shepherd bloodline. The breeders rejected him for show because he had, what the Dog Show industry called a 'gay tail'. Meaning that Hansie held his tail up in the air, rather than down by his hind legs, as any good show Shepherd is supposed to. That was fine with us. He was our family member and deserved a better life than that of a 'show dog'. He was beautiful. His coat was silver with seven black, what are called saddles, from the top of his muzzle to the middle of his tail.

When my dad brought Hansie home, at the age of 8 weeks, he was the cutest, fat-tummied, roly-poly puppy and we all fell in love with him immediately.

Unfortunately, one day when he was about 3 months old, Black Labrador that had gotten loose from his yard somewhere in the neighborhood, came into the yard when Hansie and I were outside. The Lab's posture was stiff-legged...aggressive and unfriendly. He backed up Hansie across the front porch and little Hansie piddled on the porch and fell off. From that moment, Hansie developed a pure hatred for Black Labs that lasted all his life. That Black Lab had shamed Hansie by making him piddle and then fall off the porch.

Hans may have hated Black Labs, but he loved everything else. He loved camping, going out in the boat when we went fishing, and hunting. He loved running and exploring in the woods with my brother and me. You never saw his tail so high in the air, as when he was having a good romp in the woods!! He had to inspect every fish we caught, as though he were vitally interested in that particular fish. He taught my dad how to hunt...or rather, how to shoot a pheasant. Hahaha. That's a funny story. My dad took up pheasant hunting, knowing that Hans was a good bird dog. The first time they went out hunting birds, my dad came home with a description of their day. My dad sent Hans out to find the birds, which Hans did. He pointed, and on command, flushed the bird. My dad missed the shot. This happened time after time until finally, Hans had enough of my dad's poor aim. The next bird Hans pointed, flushed on command, and before my dad could get off a shot, Hans jumped in the air and caught the bird himself. Brought it to my dad, gave it a shake to break it's neck, and dropped it at my dad's feet. Hans looked up at my dad as if to say: Sheesh. You need to learn how to shoot, for pete's sake!! Right after that, my dad took up skeet shooting to improve his aim.

Dad also brought Hans to field trials every year, and Hansie would sweep them, taking trophies in every catagory. My dad brought home a plaque for skeet shooting, having improved his aim. Unhappily, it was at one of the field trials that Hans spotted a Black Labrador, and being off-leash, Hans charged the dog and gave it a good trouncing. The poor Lab didn't know what hit him...or why. The Lab wasn't hurt because his owner and Dad separated the two dogs so quick.

When Hans was a year old, we went camping for two weeks up in the Arrowhead region of Minnesota known as the Boundary Waters. We were in the area known as The Gunflint Trail. It was there that Hans had his first run-in with a porcupine. Poor Hansie got the worst in that encounter. He came walking back into our camp area with his tail between his legs!! That was the first of the two times I saw him do that. He had quills all over in his mouth and nose. Dad had to pull each one out with a pliers. It was heart-wrenching. My younger brother and I took the boat out and rowed around our island for a couple of hours, not able to watch. The best that can be said about that was that Hansie learned a valuable lesson that day. As painful as that experience was for Hansie, it never put him off camping. We even camped in the same area, on the same island, the following summer, and he still went exploring in the woods. XD

One snowy, cold November, our next door neighbor went deer hunting, brought a deer home, and hung it on a clothes pole to keep it cold before butchering. I was home, sick with a bad cold, so it was just Mom, me and Hansie. Hansie had learned not to scratch on the door when he wanted to go outside in the fenced back yard, but would tick the doorknob with his nose. I thought he would just use his corner of yard (bathroom), and want to come right back in, because it was cold outside, so I hung around in the kitchen and watched him through the window. Instead, when he was done with the facilities, he went to the portion of fence that bordered on our neighbor's lot and stared through the slats. It was an 8 foot cedar fence in the weave design. He stood and stood there, staring through the slats in the fence. I could see his nose working as he sniffed. I knew the deer was there on the clothes pole. Suddenly, Hansie whirled around and came loping to the back door. He ticked the doorknob and I let him in. He pushed past me to the basement stairs, and the next minute came running up with Dad's hunting boot in his mouth. He dropped it on the livingroom floor, and went to the front closet and ticked the door knob. I knew something was up with Hansie and called to Mom: Mother, come here. You have got to see this! Mom came into the room and I pointed to the boot laying in the middle of the floor. I opened the closet door, and Hansie immediately grabbed Dad's guncase in his mouth, and began to back out the closet door. The gun didn't fit being held in Hansie's mouth, so Hansie turned his head sideways so the gun was pointing up and down, and backed out of the doorway, walked over to the boot, with the gun, and set the gun down by the boot, and looked at us expectantly!!! That dog was saying he wanted to go deer hunting!!!Tell me Hansie wasn't smart!! Go ahead, tell me.

There were countless demonstrations of his high intelligence, his love of life, his love of family, and his great joy in all things. The aforementioned were just a few highlights of his life and times.

In 1969, Hansie contracted cancer of the throat. He got overweight from cortisone treatments, and he slept more than he was awake, and his eyes were no longer full of life, but rather looked at us with great sadness. My parents made the hard decision to have him put to sleep...after one last outing on the boat. I was married by that time, and had my first baby, who was at the time around a year old, so I couldn't go with. My brother had moved out to California, so it was just Mom and Dad setting out on the Last Boat Ride with Hansie. Mom told me later that Hansie was almost his old self that day. By the next day, my youngest brother was gone, and we all had a Hansie-shaped hole in our hearts.

Oh Hansie boy, the pipes, the pipes are callingFrom glen to glen, and down the mountain sideThe summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.But come ye back when summer's in the meadowOr when the valley's hushed and white with snow'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadowOh Hansie boy, oh Hansie boy, I love you so.

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