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Passing of a legend

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Born in Austin, Matthew left soon thereafter and finally made it back after years of paying his penance wandering the earth. Before coming to Austin360, Matthew co-edited Austinist.com, worked as an advertising copywriter and led tours of the Roman Forum, among other things.

When not busy pounding away on his keyboard, he can be found at book readings, concerts, gelaterias, pizza joints, Barton Springs, movie theaters, the golf course, or home with a book. The M.O. gives readers a little insight into the world of this man without a plan.

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Home > The M.O. > Archives > 2007 > September > 26 > Entry

By Matthew Odam | Wednesday, September 26, 2007, 09:00 PM

The old cliché that a dog is man’s best friend certainly rang true in the Odam household. Heisman (1994-2007) was the constant companion of me and, more accurately, my folks over the past 13+ years, always there to provide love, play and, sometimes, consternation over his long and pleasure-filled life. Heisman passed away Wednesday morning, the way I’d want to — peacefully, with little pain, and on the heels of a night when he uncharacteristically ate an entire platter of cheese. We Odams love cheese.

In the spring of 1994 I had moved back to Houston from the University of Southern California in an attempt to regroup and sort out my life following a disastrous foray into the college experience. Living in an apartment in a town almost entirely void of friends — excepting a few close ones — who had all moved off to school as I originally had, I wanted to get a puppy to keep me company, provide some entertainment and someone/something to love on. I went to the SPCA with my girlfriend at the time (Heisman out-lived all of my amorous relationships, save the wonderful one in which I am now) and instantly fell in love with the cutest black-and-white terrier mutt you’ve ever seen. He was a few months old at the time, full of spunk and mischief, as all dogs are at that age.

Little did I know the amount of effort required in caring for an animal of such high energy. Despite the cutest face imaginable, he became an immediate thorn in my side, what with the barking, furniture destroying, sock dematerializing and random and violent acts of defecation. But he was more adorable than words. And fast.

As my friends and I sat around my hazy apartment watching football or MTV or the walls, the holy terror — to this point called “Puppy,” a name taken from his pound tags — would dart around the furniture chasing balls, socks, his shadow. His ability to stop and turn on a dime, to slide between the tightest of passages formed by chairs and couches, to burst with speed from one end of the apartment complex to another in a blur of fur, reminded us of the greatness that was Barry Sanders, the former Heisman Trophy winner from Oklahoma State University, who was at the time humiliating NFL defenses with similar skills. The new best friend of me and my roommate Rup had earned his proper name. Hence forth, he would be known simply as “Heisman.”

The tipping point in coming to terms with the fact that I might not yet be ready for the responsibility of a dog came when Heisman escaped my apartment for a few days. Following 48 hours of worrying about his whereabouts, and concerned I had lost him for good, I found myself walking through my complex’s parking garage. Around the corner came a buxom blonde shouting, “Cowboy … Cowboy …” With her words still lingering in the concrete edifice, who should come running around the corner, emasculated with a goofy red handkerchief tied around his neck, but the Man himself. He jumped into my arms, as I told the dejected neighbor that, indeed, this dog was mine, and his name was “Heisman,” not “Cowboy.” The terror and embarrassment in his eyes said it all. I would make sure he never found himself in such a degrading situation again.

After realizing that my lack of maturity and my roommate’s and my foggy-headed inability to even take good care of ourselves did not meet the level of love or commitment Heisman deserved and required, I liberated him to my parents’ house, replete with massive backyard, possums, squirrels, two more dogs and an endless supply of love and attention. They had done a pretty good job with me, although evidence of said would not become fully apparent until late in my 20s, and I figured if anyone could do a good job raising a mischievous, plucky, adorable animal, they could.

Heisman went on to have an amazing life. He’d take rafting trips down the Blanco River outside of our house in Wimberley, stare and bark at cows (his DNA had a little bit of cow dog in him, though it lay in a generally confused section of that scientific helix), chase squirrels around the yard, and lay around the house all day absorbing attention of friends and family. Basically, a dog’s life. The beauty and joy of having Heisman in our lives was the same as it is for most families and the dogs they love. Heisman was in a sense a reflection of the love that our family shared for one another. He was a road trip companion for my dad, and, although he refused to sleep in the folks’ bed unless both were there, his mere presence under the bed made dad feel safe from the boogieman on those quiet nights when mom was out of town. He shared our beds, and our couch. He “forced” us to carry him around like a baby, arms cradled under his hind quarters. Much like me, he gobbled up attention but was just as happy giving love as he was receiving it, and although generally docile, would snap at your hand at the oddest times and for the oddest (if any) reason. He was a member of our family.

On a more symbolic level, he was also something else. He was a bridge — a loved one whose life marked a passage of time in my own life. A period of great change and development. When I bought him, I was a rudderless 19 year-old looking for a canine pal. Now, with his passing, I am a man who has (more or less) found his way in the world, and he was with me throughout, not judging me or questioning my motives, just there to enjoy the lazy changing of the seasons.

Heisman never bailed me out of jail, talked me off the ledge after a bad break-up or loaned me $20 until my next paycheck, but in a way he did. Often. In 2000, full of Kerouakian bluster and wanderlust, I packed a backpack and prepared to head to Italy. I had no idea where I was going or when I would return, but I showed no signs of hesitancy or fear. Except to Heisman. The morning of my flight, car waiting outside, I lay on my bed with Heisman for a minute and teared up briefly, admitting to him I was a little scared, but reassured him (and myself) that I would be home one day. He just gave me those haunting puppy dog eyes and licked the lone tear that ran down my face. Although we certainly anthropomorize our pets and confer or project certain traits and emotions on to them, animals do have a capacity for love, and Heisman undoubtedly loved us all. Almost as much as we loved him.

Pulling up to the house in Wimberley this weekend, and not having him run to greet me, whimpering with excitement and wagging his tail while one ear stands at attention and the other rests flat on his scruffy head, will break my heart a little. As I sit out on the patio and read a book while the sun sets, my hand will move to the side of the chair, but he won’t be there to scratch on the head. And he won’t come jumping into my bed in the morning, nuzzling me from my slumber. It will hurt, but as the pain diminishes, I will be left only with the great joy and love he brought to my family and friends. Man’s best friend, indeed.

Permalink | Comments (12) | Categories: Personal

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By Sammy

September 26, 2007 9:33 PM | Link to this

I am certain that Heisman was a good dog. Wally just tonight got a brother. He is a chihuahua. He came with the name Elvis. I hope you will visit them.

By Allen

September 26, 2007 9:50 PM | Link to this

A beautiful eulogy if ever there was one.

By Slaybell

September 26, 2007 10:22 PM | Link to this

Heisman was a little Bob Marley and little Bill Clinton. He was a little bit country and a little bit Rock & Roll. In his youth, he showed the exuberance of a high school quarterback, the most popular dog in school. He was the Michael Vick of the canine world, but not for his off the field antics. He was an accomplished sprinter in the class of Ben Johnson (and probably would have failed a drug test if given one.) He had more dance moves than Fred Astaire or even a pre-pubescent Michael Jackson complete with two white gloves. Heisman could stir up more trouble than Macauley Caulkin when left home alone. If given the chance and in another life probably could have had as much or more success on the silver screen as Lassie, Astro, Rin Tin Tin or Scooby Doo. Heisman was a part of Our Gang and Matthew was his Spanky. Here’s to Heiman. He wins the trophy paws down.

By Erica

September 26, 2007 10:30 PM | Link to this

Yes, beautiful, Matthew. This put a pin in my heart. I’m so sorry to hear about Heisman.

That said, I do think dogs look good in red bandannas.

By Lacey

September 27, 2007 1:48 AM | Link to this

I’m so glad that you had such a friend as Heisman. Thank you for sharing all this with us. I will be thinking of you and your family this weekend.

By Rup

September 27, 2007 7:53 AM | Link to this

Thank you Heisman, for being a part of my life. And thank you Matthew, for putting to words our feelings about a larger than life legend. He will never be forgotten.

By Grace

September 27, 2007 1:15 PM | Link to this

Matt,

That brought tears to my eyes. I wish I would have known your dog b/c he sounded like an incredibly awesome dog! BTW this is Robert’s sister, Grace.

Thanks again for the eulogy.

Grace

By Carla (JWO's assistant)

September 28, 2007 10:27 AM | Link to this

Matthew, that was the sweetest and saddest thing I have ever read, it brought tears to my eyes. I have met you and your family and I work for your dad so I know that Heisman had a great life. My sympathies go out to you and yrou family.

By Gigi

September 28, 2007 11:09 AM | Link to this

Heisman was one of the first members of your family that I met on my visit to Houston in 1995. He was new to the household then, and already had endeared himself to all of you. Wonderfully written - and I hope to be as fondly remembered as he was! Gigi

By bubba cummings

September 28, 2007 11:36 AM | Link to this

Matthew: I knew Heisman, he was a great dog. and I am sure he wil lbe missed by all who knew him. When I come back to Wimberly, I will look for him, to hop in my lap, and I will be sad. Your friend Butch Cunningham, and my alter eqo Bubba.

By Jennifer

October 2, 2007 9:30 AM | Link to this

I am SO sorry for your loss. They do leave such a void in our lives when they have to leave us, don’t they? I just lost my 16-year-old dog in April (her name was Hannah), and like Heisman, she got me thru my transition from teenager to adulthood, and she saw many boyfriends and relationships come and go. I’m thinking ahead to this holiday season with a heavy heart because Thanksgiving and Christmas just won’t be the same without her.

I know when my time comes, Hannah will be waiting for me on the other side. Maybe you believe the same?

God bless you and your family as you hurt and grieve for the loss of your beloved Heisman.

Jennifer

By Jay & Gay Lynn

October 2, 2007 11:49 AM | Link to this

What a loss for you and your family. I know your mother is devastated, as she provided most of the mundane care for Hiesman. He will be missed…….