A wagging tail, big soft eyes, a gentle paw
It’s been said that dogs are man’s best friends. All kinds of stories, true stories, are written about how a beloved dog saved a family from a burning home, pulled a child away from danger, warned people of a coming calamity.
I don’t remember not having a dog as part of our family for very long. When we sailed to Morocco to meet up with my dad, our little field spaniel, Blackie, had just died of cancer. This was the first pet I remember losing. I was young and didn’t quite understand, but my grandfather did his best to try to explain it to me.
Mom, my sister, and I were living with my mom’s mother and father in New York when Blackie had to be put down. My red-headed, soft spoken Irish grandfather sat me on his lap and explained that Blackie had been very sick and couldn’t get better. He painted a picture for me that I’ve carried all my life. He believed dogs went to heaven and waited for their humans to get there.
They lived in a beautiful and safe place with other dogs and played with other dogs’ humans until theirs came for them. It was always a joyous meeting, with dogs jumping into their family’s arms, wiggling and whining happily. It was a beautiful way to ease a child’s hurt. I’ve never forgotten it and the older I’ve gotten, the more I believe this to be true.
My dad brought home this small golden-colored dog with a white chest and white feet to our apartment in the village in Morocco a month after we settled in. The dog’s owner, named Gosling, was being transferred to another location and couldn’t take the dog. Daddy said he’d take care of him. The dog’s name was Goose.
His breed was Basenji, an unusual breed that didn’t bark. He was a wonderful dog, intelligent and trusting. One day he got out of the apartment and Mom and my sister and I went searching for him. We found him huddled next to a wall across a field the villagers used as a public facility. This was 60 some odd years ago and times have changed now, but I can remember my mother, her bright red hair showing, gingerly tip toeing across that field. She picked up Goose and carried him out of there. He appeared to be eternally grateful to see her.
In my growing up years in the States we had several dogs that were special.
Astro was a long-haired shepherd Dad brought home from one of his postal routes. (After the Air Force, he worked another 20 years for the postal service.) Astro was a beautiful dog, smart and very protective of our family. We also had a black and white female dog a veterinarian friend gave us when he saved her after she was hit by a car. He rebuilt her hip and fixed two broken legs. She lived to be around 14 years old, a truly sweet little girl. Her name was Susie.
After I grew up and moved away from home to begin a teaching career, I met a wonderful man, married him, and we had four children. We also had several dogs that were with us from time to time, usually from abandoned pets.
A family had to move, and they had a beloved Australian shepherd/border collie mix. They couldn’t take her with them, and they were heartbroken. Bill brought her home. Her name was Patches, and she was the most remarkable dog I’ve ever known. She was the kids’ babysitter when they were outside. She and I alone rustled a whole herd of cattle and put them in a fence. When my husband was in the hospital in Augusta learning to cope with PTSD, Patches was my companion. She made me feel safe. When she passed away in my daughter’s arms at 16 years old, we truly lost a precious family member. That was 30 years ago, and I miss her to this day.
When my father passed away in 2010, a void was left in my life. In spring of 2011, a big white dog came into my life. She was beautiful, with golden eyes and a pink nose. We bonded and the rest is history. I always thought my dad sent her to me. She was what I needed. I had her for five years before she became ill and passed away. Her name was Carlee. I loved her.
When I leave this world, I firmly believe I’ll see Blackie, Goose, Astro, Susie, Patches, my big white dog Carlee, and other dogs I’ve loved running across a big pasture to me. It will be a joyous reunion.