When a dog dies, its humans aren’t only ones who mourn
Dogs mourn as much as we do. Maybe more.
During our long married life — Bernie and I remind each other that we were married in another century — we have had 10 dogs. We have one left.
We’ve had Zero, Packy, Cookie, Toughie, Basie, Billie, BJ, Blue, Lightning and Xena. All but Xena are memories.
Lately, Xena the Warrior Princess — we didn’t name her — has been searching our house for Lightning. We didn’t name Lightning either; he and Xena had names we didn’t want to change and confuse them. We rescued both dogs, as they say, giving them homes after they’d had rough beginnings to their lives. We wanted to hold dogs that hadn’t been held much.
Sometimes Xena appears frustrated that she can’t find Lightning, a magnificent Australian shepherd who followed us everywhere. I wrote about Lightning several years ago when he found me in a chair, unconscious from diabetic shock, my arms jerking. He hurried to get Bernie in another part of the house; when she didn’t understand what he wanted, he ran back and forth until she came to help me.
Lightning knew how to care. A year or two ago, Bernie was taking Lightning for a walk when Lightning heard a cry for help that Bernie didn’t hear. Lightning knew something was wrong and he wouldn’t move, lay right down on the road and refused to budge.
A neighbor had been pushing her husband in a wheelchair, the chair tipped, he fell out, and she badly injured herself. They couldn’t be seen from the road, but Lightning could hear her cries. When Bernie couldn’t get Lightning to move, nice neighbors Peg and Mike came out of their home to see what the fuss was. Then everyone heard what Lightning was hearing: a woman pleading for help.
They found the woman, called 911, and the woman and her husband got the help they needed. Thanks, mostly, to our dog.
When we got Lightning, we had another Australian shepherd, Blue, who practically owned and ran our house. Blue had a favorite spot, at the end of a couch, and he often slept there. During all the years Lightning was with us, he never took Blue’s spot. Lightning knew that this was Blue’s home, this was Blue’s place.
After Blue became very ill, and we had to put him down, Lightning still wouldn’t sleep in Blue’s spot. He’d only lie on the floor next to the couch.
A hundred times I’ve said that when Blue and Lightning rode in our car, and we got home, Lightning would run to our front door, and Blue would run to our back door. We’re not sure why either did that, but they did. With Blue gone, Lightning would come in the house and go to the back door, and wait for Blue, even after Blue had been dead a long time.
Now Lightning is gone, put down so he wouldn’t have to suffer with the awful illness he had. Dogs are protective, caring, loyal and never turn on you the way the world does. So Bernie and I never make them suffer just so we don’t have to suffer.
Mostly a terrier, Xena is small, a
Bill Janz shares a kiss with his dog Lightning in this 2013 photo. Janz, a former columnist with the Milwaukee Sentinel and Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, credits Lightning with saving his life. BERNIE JANZ
rascal who likes to try to climb walls. Sometimes Xena plays with our cat, plays at about 90 miles an hour, maybe 95, chasing the cat up and down chairs, over couches, and ‘round and ‘round rugs in the room.
Lightning loved peanut butter and us, but he must have loved peanut butter more because he weighed about 90 pounds. He was regal, much more subdued than Xena, but he and Xena were buddies, and used to nuzzle; Xena would approach Lightning slowly, as if she were asking permission of the dog who ran our house. Then Xena would be at Lightning’s face, as if they were lovers from different planets.
Those days, like all our other days, are gone. Now, after we drive home, Xena jumps out of the car, hurries to the side door of the car, and waits for something that always happened, but will never happen again.
Xena waits for Lightning to jump out.
Bill Janz is a retired reporter and columnist who informed and entertained readers of the Milwaukee Sentinel and Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. His email is wjanz@wi.rr.com.