For his 60th birthday present, Jim Schenk’s children gave him a choice — a family vacation or a Great Dane puppy.
Schenk chose the puppy.
From a litter in Morton in central Illinois, he selected a black-and-white male and named him Boomer “because it says, ‘I’m big, but I’m gentle,'” said Schenk, who lives in Itasca.
In April, Boomer, 12, died from natural causes. Three months later, the community still mourns the dog people nicknamed the “mayor of Itasca.”
“I couldn’t have shared the title with a better guy,” said Itasca’s human mayor, Jeff Pruyn. “More people have been talking about Boomer’s death than the death of prominent citizens.”
“Boomer is in doggie heaven,” read the community-events sign operated by the Itasca Lions Club. It was a given that the dog’s death be noted, said the chapter’s President John Kearney, because “every kid in town loved Boomer.”
Students Emily Steuer and Jesslyn Cohen included Boomer’s photo in their middle school’s end-of-the-year video presentation. “Boomer was a village icon,” said Itasca School District 10 Superintendent Marcia Tornatore.
Pruyn said city officials are discussing whether to retire dog tag No. 1 in honor of its late holder, whose portrait hangs at Village Hall.
Schenk estimates about 150 brides have Boomer in their wedding albums because his daily walks took him past the village gazebo, a popular photo setting for brides.
“They’d come running across the park, holding their dresses, to meet him,” said Schenk.
Boomer gained a pound a day after moving in with Schenk and his wife, Mary Fran, until he reached his adult weight of 150 pounds.
“He turned a 60-year-old man into a soccer mom,” said Schenk, who traded his car for a minivan that fit Boomer.
After Schenk retired in 2002, he and Boomer walked several times a day around Itasca. As the Dane held court, Schenk was the straight man to Boomer the comic.
The mileage extended Boomer’s life, said his veterinarian, Dr. Jean Churan of South Elgin.
“Usually a Dane’s life expectancy is six to eight years because they’re big couch potatoes,” she said. “But they can walk their way to good health.”
Boomer walked off the calories from the treats he scored.
“From the train depot agent, he got a chocolate chip cookie,” said Schenk. “From the deli, salami. From McDonald’s, a double cheeseburger. From the tavern, pizza.”
“One day our doors were open for air and we saw this big head peek around the corner,” said Shelly Seuschek, owner of Shelly’s Salon and Spa. “Boomer came in and met everyone, then came back every day. We kept a water bowl and bacon Beggin’ Strips for him. If little kids were nervous about their haircuts, Boomer sat by them. He was so patient.”
“Everyday, he came by about 2 o’clock for his three tea cookies and to greet everyone,” recalled Pamela Kean, co-owner of Kean’s Bakery.
Boomer was a pet therapist at an Itasca nursing home and for many an Itasca child.
“He’d lie down and little kids would sit down next to him and tell him all their problems,” said Schenk. “Boomer listened so earnestly.”
Itasca firefighters called Boomer their “Dalmatian wannabe,” said paramedic Jenny Bahr, and made him their “unofficial mascot.” He gave pony rides at their open houses.
“Boomer touched so many lives,” said Bahr. “I miss Boomer. I have his picture at work and at home.”
While Boomer’s tough-guy barks kept salesmen from the Schenks’ front door, he let paramedics do their job when Schenk had a heart attack at home in 2012.
“I was working on Jim when I looked up and saw this huge, sad face,” said Bahr. “Boomer was watching and worried but seemed to know we were taking care of Jim.”
Boomer’s tricks included high-fiving children and slobber flinging, said Schenk, “although Danes and slobber pretty much go together.” He learned to fetch the newspaper but only did so on sunny, dry days.
“If the weather was bad, he looked at me like, ‘You expect me to go out in that?'” said Schenk.
The highlights of his walks, said Schenk, were garage sales. Boomer combed the merchandise until he found a Dane-sized toy befitting his collection.
“You’d see proud Boomer walking down the street with his big, new stuffed animal,” said Kearney.
On off-leash play dates, Boomer was just like other dogs, said Schenk, except bigger.
“He was a ladies’ man, so all the female dogs were positively stupid around him,” said Schenk. “Male dogs would play chase with him, but he’d always win.”
The day Boomer died, he woke up unable to move his legs. Three friends helped Schenk lift Boomer into his van for his final trip to Dr. Churan. Boomer laid his head in Schenk’s lap as he took his last breath.
Now, the flow of sympathy cards and calls to Schenk is finally subsiding. But Itascans continue to talk about the pup who taught them to savor your cookies, make lots of friends, break the occasional rule and live for the moment.
