Reader Story #1 — Sheepdogs

We always had dogs when I was a kid. Sometimes one, often two.  It was an interesting situation, as my mother pretty much detests all animals.  She does not pet them, feed them or want them touching her in any way.  Our dogs seemed to instinctively know this and pretty much left her alone.

Our first two dogs were not memorable to me.  I was a young kid and my dad took care of them and they were not around long.  I do not remember playing with them or missing them at all.  Our third dog, Muffy,  was a purebred Old English Sheepdog who my parents hoped would make them big bucks having puppies.  My brother and I were still young ( elementary school) and Muff was always with us.  She slept at the top of the stairs between our rooms every night.  She followed us around and liked to go on walks in the fields and farms around our home.  All this changed when we got dark brown carpeting in the living room and up the stairs.  Muff was no longer allowed in there and she totally resented it!  By this point it was clear that she could not carry a litter of puppies, so my parents bought ANOTHER sheepdog whom we named Libby (Liberty, because we bought her in 1976).

With 2 very large, hairy dogs in the house and my mother home most of the time, the dogs were soon relegated to the basement for their days, unless it was nice out and they stayed in the yard.

My first experience of loss with these dogs was when Libby had puppies and we had to sell them.  Heartbreaking!   To take care of these little guys day in and day out and then watch people come to your house and take them away was sad.  I was probably in middle school by this point and dealt pretty well.  My younger brother had a tougher time.  I remember him hiding with the runt when the people came for it. I’ve heard my mom say she felt like she was torturing us;  i’m sure it was hard to watch him cry for this puppy.

Eventually, we had to get rid of Muff. She started running away and eating wierd things and disappearing for hours.  She needed out of the basement and more space.  We gave her to a farm and I remember crying about it and missing her a lot but we had been so worried about her that it was kind of a releif.  It was nice that the people who took her contacted us and told us how happy she was, running around the horses all day.  Even at that age I knew it was for the best.

So…since we were down to only 1 dog, we got ANOTHER sheepdog when I was in 9th grade…Tara.  At some point we got rid of Libby, but I don’t remember the details and I don’t remember being very upset.  Tara reminded me a lot of Muffy and her death years later when I was in collge was so sad I still cry talking about it.  I was home for Memorial Day and so was my brother.  Tara was laying outside in the driveway.  She was older now; didn’t move so quickly.  She loved when “my brother” came home and always met his truck in the driveway.  He was either getting ready to leave or just pulling in and Tara did not move away this time.  I was in the kitchen and he came screaming to the window to come out and help him lift the truck up because the dog was stuck.  My mom and I ran out, lifted the truck and he pulled her out.  She was a mess and it was a holiday weekend.  She could not walk and although she let my brother move her, she was in a lot of pain.  We were a wreck.  We called the vet at home (after all the dogs we had, my dad was on a first name basis with the man).  He opened his office and we brought her in.  The decision was to put her to sleep.  Trying to fix her would cost lots of money and be physically demanding on my dad because he would have to carry her out and in the house for weeks.  Not to mention, the vet told us she had a mouth full of tumors, which meant she was going down hill anyways.  My father would not make the decision.  He told my brother it was up to him.  If he wanted to keep the dog alive then that is what we would do.  The three of us cried and cried in that empty vets office.  My brother knew he had to have him put down and we said our goodbyes.  I can’t imagine how hard it was on him to make that decision and know that he is the one who ran over her.

It was almost 15 years before I had a dog as an adult.  We got a dog because we wanted one and felt that all kids should have one because its great to have something lick you and love you and follow you around.  We had no illusions about teaching responsibilty.  Kids are kids and we make them take care of the dog because they are part of the family and have to kick in.  With or without a dog my kids would have responsibilities.  I do most of the work with the dog and I don’t care.  The dog loves me.  We love the dog because he loves us.  I know now that I will always have a dog in my life and I know that at least my son feels the same way.  Its a connection to another living thing and loss is part of the package.

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