Thanksgiving and I had to say goodbye to my companion, wild child dog, Roo Roo. A short while later, daughter-in-law Gail brought a new lady friend to me, the Lettie Lou. When she came through the front door, her head held high, tail in the air, Lettie swayed as if a heavy wind was blowing her body from side to side. Getting closer she took playful, bouncy steps toward me like a happy dog in a TV ad. Jet black, her ebony velvet coat is adorned with large, artistic splashes of white, spread like butterfly wings across her chest and down her belly.
I stretched out my arms.
Ears perked forward, she looked into my eyes, then with a wag of her tail, Lettie Lou leapt.
Her front paws almost embraced my shoulders.
"Doggone it, be careful," Gail said as the big canine and I sprawled onto the sofa, and as little guy Petey Poo tucked tail and hid behind a chair.
***
My dogs have gifted me with unfaltering love. Several times I have found myself humming the words to husband Willard's favorite old hymn, "I Come to the Garden Alone." In the blink of an eyelid, the tail wiggly lady came to mean a lot to me and Petey Poo, the little guy who had been with me several years.
But after only a few short weeks of playful togetherness, Petey Poo seemed to be all tuckered out after his short playtimes with Lettie Lou. His backyard potty strolls and sniffing suddenly slowed to a crawl, and for most of the day he lay either on the sofa or in my lap.
"You're an old geezer, Petey Poo," I said. "Both of us are. I guess, I'm a geezeress, though." Petey Poo slept a lot and stirred only slightly when the young female demanded his attention. He had a tuckered-out-with-life look on his face. When he raised his head to look outside it was as if he heard other "voices falling on his ears." My dear Willard's?
I didn't know, but I did know that his doggie years were running out of time.
Sitting on the den couch I would gently stroke his head. At night he could no longer do his rabbit hop into the bed with me, so I had to pick him up and put him into the bed.
Life isn't always a golden sunset. Sometimes the gray afternoon merges into a dark night.
I didn't know it then, but another poochie, Lettie Lou coming into my life couldn't have happened at a better moment.
We receive unconditional love from our fur-ball roommates; there is a price we have to pay though. Their lives are so much shorter than ours, and Petey Poo was living on borrowed time.
Now, more than ever, he looked up at me with his heart in his eyes. Always remember, "I am your own," and never forget, "all the joys we shared," he could be saying. I heard a sad melody playing in my heart when he gave sharp, shorter than usual little barks.
I mostly knew when it was time for him to go out to do his business, and when I did it wouldn't take too long before Petey Poo called out for me to let him back in. Although the sound of the little guy's voice was sweet and full of longing, I'm sure "no birds hushed their warbling songs," when I opened the door to let him in.
Now, more than ever, he stared at me as if every word I say could move a mountain. You are my life, make me yours, I read on his face, with me, and possibly him, knowing the long silence was near.
Dogs bring us so much joy when they come into our lives and so much sadness when they leave. Rex, Tam, B.W., Foofy, Sophy, Red, Dutchy, (the black Labrador retriever I trained to hunt-and that's another story), June Cleaver, Roo Roo. Part of my heart went around the corner with each of my doggie goodbyes. And the part that came back was sad and damaged. Not like theirs, my beautiful canine friends, but not like mine had been.
Soon, too soon, the day came when little Petey could no longer get up or control his bodily functions. "The night around Petey had fallen."
For me the hardest part of owning a dog is having to say goodbye. I lived through that many years ago with another pet, when Daddy brought abandoned little Rex home to brother Alvin and me. He became my companion and shadow, waiting at the bus stop every afternoon when I got home from school. But then some evil soul shot and killed my pup. Losing him, I, as a 12-year-old almost lost my religion.
But all these years later, I can go back to two old quotes about hope:
"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul," and, "My hope is built on nothing less."
The dog of my childhood, fox terrier Rex, taught me so much about love, patience, and death. And the voices of Roo Roo and little Petey, and those of my other doggie friends "will always be calling."
Playing on my cellphone, an old song that floated through my memory now drifted through the room, as Dr. Jeanes helped me send Petey Poo to doggie heaven.
"I Come to the Garden Alone."
For now there's just me and big girl Lettie Lou, who'll be wagging her tail and barking out happy tunes when I return home.
And Rex waits at the bus stop.
