McKenna: A tribute to my forever friend, who taught me the power of a pet’s love

What’s on my mind…

On Monday, we said goodbye to our family dog. Our best friend. Bauer Supreme McKenna.

I know. What a ridiculous name for a pet. But when my wife, Rachel, picked him out almost 14 years ago, I thought it was perfect. Bauer turned out to be one of the most common hockey dog names out there.

Great job, Mike.

His name turned into a running joke of how naïve I can be. And it’s hard for me to argue against that.

But what can’t be argued is the love, support, and compassion that pets provide – especially to hockey players.

Early in my career, Rachel started hinting that she’d like a dog. She grew up always having one and wanted a companion while I was on the road.

The only problem was that I was a cat person.

So it took me a while to warm up to the idea. But eventually I realized she was right. If I was going to be gone so often, the least I could do was learn to live with a dog.

We had a deal. She got to pick him out. I got to name him. And so off we went – ironically – to an adopt-a-thon at a local hockey arena in the spring of 2008 to find our new buddy.

Rachel saw Bauer cowering in the corner of the playpen and immediately picked him out. He was the one. And home he came.

Bauer peed on the carpet. Once. That was it. But he was so cute and mild mannered. He was cuddly. And he seemed to like me – so long as I wasn’t wearing track pants.

Oh did Bauer hate track pants. The swishing noise terrified him.

Actually he was scared of everything. But I fell in love with that dog so quickly.

The first season we had Bauer was my fourth year as a pro, which started in Norfolk, Virginia in the AHL with the Norfolk Admirals. We lived across the street from the arena – The Scope – and he would wait for me in the window sill every day.

Coming home and seeing his cute little face changed my entire demeanor. I used to be incredibly high strung during games and practices. I’d smash sticks. Curse. Pout. And looking back, there’s no doubt in my mind that it hurt my career early on.

Bauer changed all that. He helped me leave the game at the rink. He provided an outlet and a distraction. He’d curl up next to me during pregame naps. And he could listen all day. I needed him more than I ever realized.

I know I’m not alone in describing these things. People in all walks of life find comfort and friendship with their pets. But what we do as hockey players is incredibly stressful. We have to perform at our best in front of thousands – sometimes millions – of people.

There’s piles of money on the line. Contracts. But what always got to me was the risk of embarrassment. My entire life, I dreamed of playing in the NHL. And I so desperately wanted to succeed, not just for myself, but for everyone that was along for the ride. When I had a tough game, my friends and family hurt. I hurt.

But Bauer never did. He was always there. Win or lose, his tail was wagging when I came home.

I think it’s a big reason why so many hockey players have dogs. We crave their calming presence and friendship. We need the healthy distraction of going for walks. It lets us clear our mind and enjoy something simple. There is nothing purer than a dog’s love.

Hockey players – especially those that have moved around often – associate memories with the places we’ve lived. 

Because for as much as hockey players often have to get used to new places, hockey dogs do, too. When I try to think of every house, every apartment, even every hotel for that matter where Bauer lived with Rachel and I, it takes a minute or two to remember them all.

In addition to our two homes in St. Louis and that apartment across from the Norfolk Scope, he also lived with us at my in-laws’ house in Adirondack. And in apartments with us in Lowell, Mass., Springfield, Mass., Syracuse, Peoria, Albany and Allentown.

Oh yeah, there were hotels in Lowell and Syracuse, too. As well as hotels in Tampa, New Jersey and Dallas. And two days in a hotel in Ottawa.

When you add our houses in Binghamton, Portland, Austin, Belleville and our townhouse in Enfield, CT., it comes out to 20 places that Bauer lived with us. No matter where we went, he was always the same old Bauer, happy and excited for the next adventure, wherever that was.

The way he was with Rachel and I every step of the way, Bauer provided an added layer to the context of each chapter of our lives.

Remember when Bauer tried to eat the sea foam in Virginia?

Remember when he ate those brand new Cole Haan flats and ripped toys to shreds in Norfolk?

Remember when he chased the deer in Albany?

Remember when he did 10 minutes worth of zoomies in the Binghamton snow?

Remember when a Portland Pirates teammate left the door open at Thanksgiving and he drank salt water from the marsh – and puked everywhere?

Remember when he ate rock salt in Syracuse and puked everywhere?

Remember when he’d bark – just once – at every toll collector when we’d move cross-country at the beginning and end of the season?

Remember when he nearly died when we moved from Belleville to Lehigh Valley?

That last one. That’s a doozy.

During my final season of professional hockey, I started the year in Belleville, Ontario playing for the AHL Senators. In late October, I was called up by the Ottawa Senators. And while away, Bauer started to act differently.

He’d become diabetic. Bauer would need two insulin shots for the rest of his life.

As the season progressed, I was shuffled from Ottawa to the Vancouver Canucks, Vancouver to the Philadelphia Flyers and finally, Philadelphia to its AHL affiliate, the Lehigh Valley Phantoms. After four  months of our family living apart, we were getting back together in Pennsylvania.

My family remained in Belleville the entire time I was gone. So in early March, I returned and loaded up the trailer. We drove just over six hours the next day. But despite following the protocols prescribed by the veterinarian in Belleville, something was wrong with Bauer. We just knew.

I had a game the next day in Wilkes-Barre/Scranton against the Penguins. My wife took Bauer to a local veterinarian, who recommended bringing him to the pet hospital right away. She did.

Bauer was in a state of diabetic ketoacidosis and the vets weren’t sure he’d survive treatment. 

I found out just before going on the ice for warmups and I can’t tell you how happy I was to be backing up that night rather than starting. Playing that game would have been next to impossible.

Rachel brought him back to the hotel, thinking it might be our last night with him. We had to make a decision.

I walked in the hotel room door and Bauer – his body ravaged and weak – stood up and took the softest steps towards me, tail wagging.

There was no way I was giving up on him. He’d been there for me all those years. We had to give him a chance to fight. It brings me to tears thinking about it.

Bauer made it through and lived almost three more years.

Usually when I sit down to write these pieces, there’s a hot button NHL topic I want to talk about. Or maybe a player or team to highlight. But not this week. The only thing I can think about is Bauer.

The dog I never knew I needed. The dog that changed my entire outlook on hockey, and in many ways, life.

Our family may be grieving but we were so lucky to have Bauer along for the ride. He lived in countless cities, ate more ice cubes than you could ever imagine and battled until the very end.

I owe so much to Bauer yet he never knew it. All he wanted was to be loved. And he was so very much.

Thanks Bauer Supreme. I love you, buddy.