They don’t write obituaries for dogs. At least, they don’t
run them in newspapers. But like so many
families with pets, ours feels compelled to honor the memory of our lost
canines and cats with something more than a swift and painful goodbye at the
veterinarian’s office, which is what happened yesterday with our dear old boy,
Spottie.
Spottie found us 15 years ago. He showed up out of
nowhere in our front yard and cast a spell over our then seven-year-old son,
Sam. The boy presented his newfound friend to me, the mother of all soft
hearts, and announced that he was keeping him. There was no collar or
identification of his owners. It wouldn’t have mattered. I’ve seen a lot of
bonding periods between dogs and kids. Never has there been one that melded any
faster. You would have come closer to separating oxygen from the air with a garden rake.
Of course, the instant a new dog appeared on the premises,
our daughter Katie wasted no time in loving him. There was something about that
tailless white dog with black spots and pointy ears that proved dogs have souls.
Spottie arrived full grown, probably a year old, but he acted like a very old
friend, someone who already knew your heart and where to find the bacon.
Fortunately for us, no one came to claim him. My husband
Steve made a meager attempt to establish Spottie as an outside dog. That lasted
about two hours, just long enough to endear himself to his new daddy and to our
beloved Winnie dog who was dying of cancer. She accepted him without question,
and Spottie found himself inside, belly up on the carpet, further upping the
ante on just how completely irresistible this angel dog could be.
Life loves to show us that timing is everything. I don’t
believe for a second that Spottie materialized out of nowhere by accident. He
slipped seamlessly into our lives and eased our grief when we took Winnie on
that last car ride to the vet. Spottie more than filled the space. He was
obedient, yet playful; loyal yet friendly; fearless, yet gentle. The dog was
our super hero, a calming constant throughout the years who won favor with
everyone, even our sore-tailed cat, Matilda. It is astounding to consider our
children were in second grade and kindergarten when he graced us with his presence.
They are now in college.
When you are a dog lover and you live long enough, you will
no doubt feel the loss of a beloved friend. Words never do much to shore us up
during this kind of loss, but memories have a way of soothing the raw edges,
especially when those memories evoke the undeniable solace of unconditional love.
Age and arthritis took their toll on Spottie. He was blind.
And deaf. And diabetic. His hindquarters hadn’t worked well in years. Stairs
proved to be his most formidable foe. He never stopped, though. He showed us
how to go with the flow and recognize the simple rewards of ordinary days,
where a tummy rub and a piece of cheese can be pretty darned awesome.
Spottie taught us well. He lived an exemplary life of love,
trust, tolerance and forgiveness (even for Matilda). He would remind us, even
today—especially today—that life is a gift of opportunity to simply be the good
and constant friend in the lives of others. And then there’s spaghetti. There’s
always glorious spaghetti.
Godspeed, Spotter Dawgie. We love you!
