In the past few days my dear friends, Sunny and Teri, have
lost pets, have had their pets cross the Rainbow Bridge Rainbow Bridge
Our love affair began when I decided I wanted a dog for
companionship. My husband worked non-stop. I wanted something to come home to.
I didn’t realize that that “something” was the most self-aggrandizing thing
possible. When I come into the house my dogs go berserk. They throw themselves
at my feet in total adulation, I am not worthy. They love me beyond anything I
could ever comprehend. What a rush.
One falls in love with their dog. I had no idea that when I
decided I wanted a pet that I would develop a life relationship. My first
thought was “I’ll adopt a mutt from the shelter.” I decided I wanted a medium
sized dog. I’m not a purse-size dog person. I began looking at the website of
the local no-kill animal shelter. There was a beautiful “mother.” She’d just
had pups and was at a foster home. I made an appointment to visit her.
I told my husband I was just going to look. I pulled up to
the property, got out of my car, and walked toward the front door. A black and
white Border Collie with a red bandana strutted down the steps toward me. Was
this a set-up? She sat down in front of me and raised her paw to shake hands.
Oh my. I was smitten. This was my dog. The paperwork went quickly. I paid my
$75.00 and promised not to let her ride in the back of a pickup truck.
As I left the property of the foster home with my new
companion I realized I had no idea what to do.
I stopped at the local pet store and bought all the necessary
accroutrements. As I was loading my car with dog food, and a kennel, and
blankets, and treats, and leads and collars, and books on how to let a Border
Collie raise you, my husband drove into the parking lot and said, “I knew I’d
find you here.”
I felt as if I’d been caught in a torrid affair. “How did
you know I’d be here,” I asked. He knew. That’s what he does. He knows!
Years later Dixie is still
my companion. Whatever room I am in, she is there also. She sheds more than I
thought she would. She is old and coughs and hacks up disgusting “stuff.” She
passes gas that would put any teenage boy or old man to shame, but she is mine.
I can tolerate the hacked up fur balls, the “un-godly scented vomit,” the gastric
aroma, and the shedding.
What I can’t abide is the thought that she will leave me
soon. I will love and cherish her until then, thankful that some Higher Power
had the brilliant idea of dogs!
