Friday, November 09, 2012
Way, way back in the day, shortly after the boss's dad passed away, his mom asked me to take her to the shelter to get a dog. She worried about being alone out here.
So I did but there was nothing in the runs there but great big pit bulls and rotties and other dogs utterly unsuited for someone in their eighties.
We went inside and I asked, didn't they have any dogs that would work better for the situation?
Well, they might if we didn't mind waiting for a couple of weeks or so. They had a little hound sort of dog that was picked up after being hit by a car in a nearby town. If we would wait until the pins came out of her hip and leg we could adopt her.
She seemed like a good bet, so we waited.
Her name was Sadie, but she had several nick names, not all of them complementary. Liz took her to obedience school and then she fell to work at her new job, guarding Grandma with a will. She was calm and friendly, but she wouldn't let strangers get out of their cars. She even turned away the state police one time.
Good girl. When Grandma was nearing the end she worried what would happen to her little dog. I promised her that she would always have a home with us.
She has. Through the untimely demise of a couple of dozen chickens...the whole flock once....in her eager jaws, through chasing cows willy-nilly and never, ever coming when called, through running away every chance she got and barking all night just for fun...she has stayed.
Becky took up the job of caring for her and she became her dog. With her hound ways she mostly lived outdoors, of late in Nick's kennel run with a nice, snug dog house. When her teeth grew too poor to hold up to dry dog food, Beck bought her cans out of her meager Micky D's salary and even cooked for her.
In the winter she lived in the cow barn. Tonight when Becky was taking her over for her first night this year in the barn, she was running along happily, eager, dragging Beck behind her.
Suddenly she keeled over and a few minutes later she was gone.
To me it was a good way to go for a wayward old dog, happy one minute and over the next...she was fourteen or fifteen, and the time was inevitably coming...but Beck has a sad. I hope you will think of her.