Columns
Wolfsie: Remembering Barney
“I lost my best friend this week. And my business partner.”
That is how my newspaper column began five years ago this month, just a few days after the opening of the 2003 Indiana State Fair. I was referring, of course, to Barney the Beagle, my loyal canine friend who accompanied me on 2500 morning segments for WISH-TV, beginning in 1991.
In memory of Barney and for all the people who loved him, here is what I wrote that week.
Barney was a street kid who wandered onto my doorstep looking for a better life. He found it. And I found the world’s greatest dog.
I’m not going to tell you exactly when Barney died because after it happened I lied to dozens of people. You might be one of them. “Where’s Barney?” they yelled from their car the next day. “Home sleeping,” I shot back. I didn’t know what words to use. He wasn’t just my dog, he was their dog. In many ways, Barney belonged to everyone.
When I walked down the street with him, four out of five people would say hello to the beagle by name. Many followed with a lame joke about not knowing my name. Sometimes they weren’t kidding.
There was never another dog like him. He was a dog with many passions. People would joke that he looked like he hadn’t missed many meals. I think he missed one, back in ’95. He was endlessly hungry, relentlessly in a search for food he could steal. He ate everything: pickles, carrots, hotdog buns, tomatoes. And sometimes, when extremely desperate, he would eat his own dog food.
When he saw people approach in a mall, he rolled over on his back for the ultimate belly rub. If you stopped rubbing him, he glared at you. “You’ve got some nerve,” he seemed to be saying. Everyone rubbed his belly: little old ladies, toddlers, Harley riders, even cat lovers.
As much as he loved me, he’d run away if he had the chance. Not run away from me, but on to a new adventure. He knew I’d find him. Last Thanksgiving he got through the invisible fence and found his way to a holiday dinner several miles away. He barked at the unfamiliar door. He knew strangers were a softer touch at the dinner table.
Barney and I did 2,500 TV shows together on Channel 8.
Barney knew television.
When a second-rate musician was playing his electric guitar on my show, Barney pulled the plug out of the wall with his teeth.
Barney knew music.
When the new Ruth’s Chris opened downtown, Barney went into the kitchen during the show and stole a T-bone from the counter.
Barney knew steak.
When Barney was asleep, his tail actually wagged.
Barney knew how to dream.
When I did a show with kids with Down syndrome, Barney jumped on the bed with all 15 toddlers and snuggled with them.
Barney knew how to love.
When I did a show with the Carmel High School baseball team, he stole the ball (and the show) and took off with the whole squad in hot pursuit.
Barney knew comedy.
When people took pictures of Barney, I swear he looked right at the camera.
Barney knew publicity.
Barney loved everyone. There were no strangers. I don’t think he had an unhappy moment in his life. His final day was filled with good food and adoring fans. That evening he passed peacefully in his sleep.
Barney even knew how to die.
Over the years, I have given out over 5,000 photos of Barney, each inscribed by me with a silly facsimile of a paw print. If you have a picture of Barney with that paw print, please keep it in his memory. That would mean a lot to me.
And, I am sure, it would mean a lot to Barney.
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