Ch. KnollKrest Deewal Kroupier

“Rasta”  AKA RaRa, Ras, Rastamon

August 7, 1991 - March 3, 1995

My first PWD Rasta was my dream, he was all I could have hoped for - Handsome, Friendly, Funny, Sweet, and Willing.  He was my first show dog (I earned all of his points towards his championship).   I made my first foray in to Animal Assisted Therapy with Rasta, we visited Hospitals and Convalescent Homes together.  The biggest dream that I hoped to accomplish with Rasta was to show him at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog show held at madison Square Garden.  Growing up I had watched Westminster on TV and hoped some day I would be there, not as a spectator but as a participant! 

I realized that dream on February 13, 1995.  Although Rasta did not make the cut, many people made positive comments about him, and I had the time of my life...finally realizing my dream!   That was what mattered most.  The road to Westminster was one paved with great happiness, that started the first day I laid eyes on Rasta.

I first fell in love with the PWD when I met Chris Harris’ (Reel Life) dog Jay (Ch. Pennrico Azul Marino) at the Hartford Dog shows in 1992.  Chris spent hours talking to me about the breed.   Chris, like many PWD owners, is very protective of the breed.  She asked me many questions concerning my lifestyle in an effort to make sure the PWD was right for me.  I know I passed the test because a week later Chris called and said she had the right dog for me!  He was a curly 7 month old male with a white chest and paws, but he was all the way down in Delaware!  I took time off from teaching and Chris and I took a road trip down to see him.  We took Chris’ Saab packed with her PWD bitch Bristol, her mini Schnauzer Duffy, and my Australian Shepherd Bowie.  We arrived in Delaware on Friday, March 13th - Owner Lew Grello was superstitious - we had to wait until Saturday morning to see the pup.  Chris and I had breakfast with Maryanne Murray and Cathy Kalb.  Though I could barely contain my excitement, we had a lovely breakfast.   Finally we drove to Lew’s house.  As we walked in to Lew’s grooming room, I caught site of the cutest PWD I had ever seen.  Lew was finishing up trimming him, and the pup, as most PWD pups will, was being naughty on the grooming table.  He kept wagging his tail, causing Lew to have fits as he attempted to scissor him.  When Lew took hold of his tail, the tip stuck out of the top of his hand, and although the puppy could not wag all of it, he continued to wag the tip!  That was the moment I fell in love!

On the way back to CT, Chris and I discussed what to name him.  Lew had named him “Dealer” but I was a little unsure about yelling the name “Dealer” seeing I was living in an area that probably had quite a few “dealers” in it already!!!   Rasta popped in to my head.  It was the right name for him!

Through the support and help of many people (a HUGE debt of gratitude to Erika Griesbach), I showed and finished Rasta myself.  It was a long road but in the end he finished in style, completely owner handled with all major points earned in a very traditional LONG lion trim. 

My dreams of Rasta’s future came to a screeching halt at 3:40 PM on Friday, March 3rd.  That was the day that Rasta was struck and killed by a car.  Always I had protected Rasta, never allowing him off lead, never placing him in risky situations - but that Friday I could not protect him.  Without my knowledge, the meter reader  came to my house.  After leaving the dog yard, he shut the gate, but neglected to latch it, failing to see the signs on the fence and gait, instructing him that dogs were contained in the area.  When I came home from work that day, with plans of bringing “the boys” for a long walk, I let them out to play as I changed in to more suitable clothing.   About 20 minutes later I went to the door to check on Rasta and Bowie.  To my dismay, the gate was OPEN!  Both dogs were gone.  With my heart in my throat, I called to them, becoming more hysterical as each moment passed.  I called my family to come help, I called 911.  Some may not think a lost or missing dog deserves a 911 call, but my dogs are my life.  Thirty minutes after my call the Dog Warden pulled up to my driveway.  She said she had found the black dog, Rasta.  I was elated.  Then she said, “I am so sorry, he is dead”. 

My world crashed around me.  My Rasta - he had a large portion of my heart - he was gone.  All due to someone’s carelessness. 

To some people, he was only a dog, a possession.  To me he was my very dear friend.  In the end I failed him.   I should have put locks on the gate.   If only I had pushed on the gate.  If only the meter reader had been careful.  

Thankfully, Bowie was rescued by a kind person who found him on the side of the road and returned him because of his tags.   Bowie lived to be 16 years old!  

later I learned that the person who hit Rasta swerved to hit him, and never slowed down after striking him.  Although it has been almost 20 years since I lost Rasta, I still feel the loss of that day.   No dog can replace Rasta, but it was through Rasta that I have an undying love for this breed.  A strong desire to protect them.   Although a part of me died with Rasta, I can truly sy that without him I would never have had the opportunity to meet so many wonderful caring people.  Although the only thing that brought us together was this amazing dog (and breed) I will forever have these people as my friends.