Beloved Duke leaves behind cherished memories at cemetery

David Clayton

Thursday, April 8, 1999 | 12:09 p.m.

People passing by Old Duke wave, nod or smile in returning his greeting, which is spiritual now but warm, compassionate and faithful as ever.

His heart-shaped memorial, with the word "greeter" permanently etched into its base, stands in the Eternal Garden of Peace, near the door to the office of the Craig Road Pet Cemetery.

Right where the thousands of people who came to know Duke over the past 13 years can still feel his presence and sense the earnest offer of sympathy and companionship he extended to all grieving families.

Old Duke, a yellow lab-bull terrier mix, died in his sleep at 10:30 p.m. March 30 at the age of 15, but only after putting in another full day at the job he invented.

Burying a beloved pet can be nearly as emotional as burying a human family member. No one knew this more than Duke, who sensed the proper decorum as he attended funerals and greeted visiting families. If the family wanted to relieve the stress with play, Duke was there to fetch stones for as long as they would throw them. If they wanted quiet, he understood. If they needed a furry head to pat, his was always there.

He took his responsibilities so seriously that he would greet visitors in the cemetery's parking lot and escort them right to their pets' grave sites. He would often do this while walking ahead of them, stopping at the exact headstone before turning his eyes upward and then taking an appropriate few steps backward, to give the family room.

This astonishing but marvelous feat comforted families of the almost 4,200 animals at rest there and made Duke a legend among them.

So much so that as word spreads of Duke's death, the sympathy cards and calls are mounting in the office of Tony Clayton, who runs the northwest Las Vegas pet cemetery. Clayton said Duke regularly got 75 to 100 Christmas cards each year and that an even higher mailing is expected now.

Such was the bond between Duke and his families that one woman, now living in Montana, did not need to hear the news. She just knew. The day of Duke's death, she was at the cemetery for the burial of a beloved pet. As she sat on the grass, Duke inched up and finally sat right next to her, a pose they struck for 45 minutes.

Clayton said when it was time to go, just moments before the woman stood up, Old Duke leaned over and gave her a lick on the face. Duke died that night and the next morning, as Clayton was preparing the memorial and honored grave site, the woman returned.

"She knew what I was doing right away," Clayton said. "She told me that she just had to come back, that something had told her to come back and say goodbye to Duke."

Saying goodbye is something Clayton is still dealing with, particularly in the mornings. Duke would jump out of Clayton's pickup and start his day by running through the whole cemetery, sniffing out all the dog biscuits people would leave at the grave sites. Then he would position himself outside the office door, a good spot for seeing visitors as they pulled in.

"He left his pawprints on the hearts of a thousand people," Clayton said.

Duke showed up at the front door of the Claytons' home as a puppy. Clayton said he took out an ad and the owner responded, taking the pup back home. The third time, however, that Clayton opened his door only to find Duke laying there, he and the owner agreed that Duke was only following his destiny and that he should remain where his heart kept bringing him.

"This was a dog that was put on Earth to do something and by God he did for 13 years," Clayton said. "He put families at ease, comforting them in their loss."

For families visiting the pet cemetery, the good news is that there's more than a memorial by which to remember Duke. There's Zeke, a year-old Rottweiler who learned his lessons well from the master, Old Duke.

"I never taught Duke how to do what he did," Clayton said. "Most dogs wag their tails and try to get in the way. Not Duke. He just knew what needed to be done."

On a recent morning, Zeke, although still missing his mentor, happily trotted out to greet the visitors. He may never get over missing Duke, but he will always know what needs to be done. Duke taught him well.

David Clayton, (no relation to Tony Clayton) is the Sun deputy metro editor. His dog Deadline died at age 17 in June 1997. Deadline is buried at the Craig Road Pet Cemetery. Duke was in solemn attendance at the grave site ceremony.