The Best of the Best

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When I was a child we had exactly one dog. His name was Buddy and he was one of the finest pets ever.  Buddy was a beautiful collie that we rescued from the local animal shelter. He was still rather young when we decided to make him a member of our family. He already had his name and we decided not to change it lest he be confused. We saw that he was already a bit nervous about coming home with us and we wanted to let him know that he was going to be safe.

Buddy was smart and always gentle. Even though he was a very big dog we sensed that we did not need to be afraid that he might harm us. Back in those days most animals lived outside all of the time and so it was with Buddy. We let him inside the house for short visits but mostly his domain was inside the fence that marked the extent of our property behind the house. Because he was an energetic dog from a breed known for herding sheep he enjoyed running around the perimeter as though he was a sentinel watching over us. Before long he had created a grassless pathway marking his exercise track.

We always felt quite safe with Buddy acting as our security system. While we understood that he was as mild    as a lamb, outsiders were afraid of his ferocious bark and his tenacious insistence that nobody that he did not know should get past him or dare to enter the yard. We never worried about marauders intruding into our home when Buddy was on guard.

It did not take Buddy long to learn how to climb the chain link fence so that he might explore the neighborhood. In the beginning we worried that he might never return when he wandered away but he always found his way back home before dark, waiting patiently at the gate until we let him back inside his province. After a time Buddy became a celebrity of sorts in the neighborhood. Everyone seemed to know and love him. They watched over him when he took his strolls and guided him back in our direction when he appeared to be a bit confused about how to get back to his little empire.

Our garage was attached to the house but we had to cross under a little covered porch to actually get to an entry door that went directly into the kitchen. Our mom kept Buddy’s food and water under the roof of the porch and always left the side door to the garage ajar so that Buddy would be able to find shelter from rain or cold weather conditions. Mama kept a quilt in there for Buddy to use when he was sleeping but he generally slumbered right in front of the back door to the house as though he was our protector.

My brothers taught Buddy a few tricks but mostly he was just a good fellow who loved us with every fiber of his being. When our friends came around he was as sweet to them as he was to us. I recall a time when I found a little neighbor boy of no more than about three years old hitting Buddy with a thin board that had a nail on the end. Amazingly Buddy endured the pain that the boy was inflicting on him as though he realized that the child was too young to understand what he was doing. Buddy was always like that. He loved all of the kids in our neighborhood.

In the summers my mother had Buddy’s hair cut so that he would not be too hot. He always looked a bit like a lion because the groomer left his mane intact and kept a little ball of hair on the end of his tail. Years later I would learn that he was probably better off with his coat intact but so much was different then and people didn’t possess as much knowledge about how best to care for dogs. They thought that dogs were simply animals who belonged in the great outdoors. I don’t think I knew a single person who kept a pet inside the house unless it was a hamster, a fish or a snake.

Eventually my brothers and I grew older and so too did Buddy. His coat that had once gleamed with a healthy sheen became mostly gray and white, especially around his muzzle. He walked rather than ran and his fence climbing adventures ceased. He spent most of his time sleeping under a big fig tree. He ate less and less and had to make more and more visits to see the veterinarian for little problems. Still he defied the odds of having an exceptionally long life by easing into his twelfth year of faithful service to our family and fourteenth year of life. One day when I was about nineteen I noticed that he had not touched his morning meal. I found him panting under the fig tree and he was unable to even lift his head to acknowledge my presence. It looked dire for him and I knew he needed medical attention quickly. Since nobody else was home and I did not drive I called on help from a friend who quickly came to the rescue.

We drove Buddy to see the vet who had always cared for him with a sense of deep sorrow and foreboding. His breathing was shallow and he seemed unable to move. An aide had to carry him inside for us and the face of the doctor was grim as he surveyed Buddy’s condition. I suppose I knew all along that Buddy was dying but I kept hoping that some miracle might cure his condition. Sadly it was not meant to be. I stood in a state of shock as the kindly veterinarian announced that the only compassionate thing to do would be to put Buddy to sleep.

That was the first time that I had to let go of a beloved pet. Even knowing that it was the most humane thing to do it tore at my heart. Buddy was so good, so faithful, so innocent and I could not imagine our family without him. He was our animal brother who loved more deeply and loyally than any human is capable of doing. I hated being the one who had to end his beautiful life.

My brothers and I would have other dogs over the years. They were wonderful in their own right but somehow they never quite gained the status that we reserved for Buddy. He was our childhood pet at a time when our family needed stability and love, two qualities that Buddy gave us without reservation. He was the best of the best, our most beloved and beautiful pet ever. 

He Was A Very Good Boy

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I’ve had many dogs in my lifetime and many granddogs as well. I must admit that all of them have been extremely bright and well behaved but one really stole my heart and that was my granddog, Cooper. He was a sweet little pug who stayed with me whenever his family went out of town. We always had a grand time together. He’d follow me everywhere and one of his favorite pastimes was getting his tummy scratched.

Cooper wasn’t the most energetic dog in the world which is probably why he and I got along so well. He mostly liked to sit around and eat. In fact, he rarely barked except to tell me that it was time for breakfast or dinner or to let me know that he needed to get outside. The rest of the time he was quite easy to have around and he loved to snuggle.

I had to watch him whenever he went to my yard. He was rather clever at finding ways to get out of the fence so that he might wander around the neighborhood. He gave me quite a scare on a number of occasions. One time a neighbor of mine who has two pugs of her own found him exploring several blocks away. On another day I was watching him at his own house and he managed to open the gate and take off on an adventure. Luckily he was wearing his collar and a kindly person called the number on his tag to let me know that he was safe and nearby.

When Cooper was young he enjoyed jumping onto the couch or the bed with me. I’d go the sleep at night only to find him curled up at my feet in the morning. As he grew older the jump was a bit too much for him and so he used a chair as his place of slumber. Over time even that became too much for him so I would place a quilt next to my bed and he would snore the night away near me.

Last year Cooper became very ill and had to undergo surgery. It took him quite some time to recover and even after many weeks he never really returned to his old self. He stayed at my house one last time and I had to watch very carefully to know when he needed to go outside. He was no longer interested in roaming but I did not want to leave him by himself anyway. I noticed that he stumbled now and again when he tried to walk across the tile in my kitchen.

Eventually Cooper lost the use of his hind legs. I was willing to purchase some wheels for him but his veterinarian said that he was too old and weak for such things. His family simply carried him wherever he needed to go which worked fine for a time but he slowly grew more and more frail.

The last time I visited with Cooper he seemed to be trying to tell all of us how miserable he was. He let me pet him and feed him from my hand but he cried when I tried to hold him on my lap. It was difficult to see the cute little fellow in such a state.

Last week Cooper’s family decided that it was time to let him go across the rainbow bridge. All of his brothers were with him one last time. They gave him his favorite treats which even included some ice cream. The hugged him and let him know how much they loved him. Later two of them accompanied Cooper and my daughter to the veterinarian who immediately agreed that it was time for him to get some relief from his pain. His passing was quick and peaceful.

I have cried often over Cooper. Somehow he really burrowed his way into my heart. I’ve tried to remember our fun times together instead of focusing on his end, but I will miss his sleepovers at my house. I always told him not to tell the other dogs that he was my favorite. He kept our secret well. He and I were buddies who made each other happy. It will be difficult to never see him again.

Pets are so comforting. They give their love so freely. Cooper seemed to know exactly how I needed for him to be. Ours was a very special relationship that was quiet and sweet. I can still see him sleeping at my feet while I compose one of my blogs, or sitting with me on the couch while I watched one of my favorite programs. I think of him following me to the laundry room as I washed my clothes and mooching little snacks whenever I cooked. He and I were in sync and we both knew it.

I am grateful that I had the chance to know Cooper. Because I loved him so. I understood that he was longing to run across the rainbow bridge where he would be able to walk again and live without pain. I suspect that he is having a great time exploring his new home with his old friend Shane. I’d like to think that our pets will be waiting for us when we get to heaven. It would be quite nice to get to play with Cooper again or just have him follow me around. He’s an angel dog for sure. He was a really good boy.

Our Little Angels

Cooper and Luna

I have a little friend at the house for a few days. His name is Cooper and he is my grand dog. Over the years Cooper has been here for many sleepovers while his family travels. He’s no trouble at all and he brings a great deal of love when he comes. This year he had some tough times. He had surgery in the fall and for a while we really wondered if he was going to make it. Thanks to a good vet and some tender loving care from his family he has rallied back, but he’s really showing signs of being an old man now. His coat is becoming more and more grey over time and his legs don’t always work as well as they once did so he sometimes struggles just to get up from a resting position. He doesn’t do much running around theses days. Instead his pace is slow, steady and deliberate. He’s missing teeth that he once had, making him look a bit forlorn.

There was a time when Cooper was athletic enough to leap up onto our bed like a super hero. We would awake in the morning to find him snoring at our feet. Now he can’t even climb the stairs to be with Mike in the man cave the way he used to do. Now He prefers having a soft quilt on which to relax, and even then he struggles a bit to find a comfortable position. Still, he’s as lovable as can be and enjoys back scratches and tummy rubs as much as he ever did.

Cooper is little trouble. He only barks when he wants to go outside or when it’s time for a meal. It’s nice of him to remind us to take care of his needs because we sometimes get busy and don’t notice what hour it is. He dutifully lets us know what he wants and when he wants it. The rest of the time he mostly follows us around and watches us doing our chores. He is a model guest and a great companion, so we never mind having him. He’s as sweet a dog as ever there was.

Cooper doesn’t play much these days. When he was younger he was like an athletic clown, making us laugh with his antics and prowess. He often flew into our laps wherever we happened to sit and ran across the yard with ease. Since he was adventurous we had to be certain that there were no cracks along the fence line or he would find a way to wiggle outside of the barrier and wander around the neighborhood exploring. He wound up at somebody else’s house more than once. We’ve engaged in many a frantic search but we always found him and felt a sense of relief along with a great deal of amusement.

Cooper is a pug, by the way, and as cute and sweet as that breed of dog generally is. His eyes have always been so enchanting. All he has to do is stare at us and we have to give in to whatever he wants. Now they are a bit sorrowful owing to the passage of time and the aging of his body, but he is still irresistible when he uses them to beg. He knows that I am a real pushover when he patiently stares at me with his now old man puppy face.

We haven’t had a dog of our own for some time now. We are always on the go and having to consider the needs of a pet just doesn’t work with our present lifestyle. I imagine that we will eventually slow down just the way Cooper has. Maybe then we will once more enjoy the companionship of a dog. A large creature like a golden retriever or a collie might be fun but I like the idea of a lap dog like Cooper. I want a pet who can sit beside me in a chair without taking up too much room. I like the idea of a pet that I might cuddle without feeling as though I am being crushed by its weight.

It’s little wonder that dogs are used to service people with disabilities. They are so remarkably loving and conscious of our moods and our well being. They communicate with us as though they understand exactly how we are feeling. When we are happy they rejoice with us. When we are sad they loyally offer us comfort. It’s a silly idea, but also quite profound to note that the word dog is God spelled backwards. In so many ways they are indeed like little angels sent to love and care for us as long as we treat them well.

I’m happy that my grandchildren have grown up with pets. Their dogs have all been sweet and quite smart. I’ve loved them as if they were my own and grieved when they passed. I wish that our dogs would last longer than they do. We become so close to them that our hearts break when they die. It is as though a member of the family is gone, and we remember them forever.

It saddens me a bit to know that Cooper is truly an old dog and that he shows so many signs of slowing down. I want to enjoy him as much and as often as I can while I still have the chance. He has burrowed his way quite deeply into my heart. These days he does nothing extraordinary other than to be as sweet as he ever was. I take joy in simply listening to him snore as he lies at my feet. I laugh when he barks at me to let him go outside or indicates that he wants me to give him a treat or a bit more food. I could sit all day just watching him sleep. There is great comfort in having him near.

Angelic Creatures

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Images of President George H.W. Bush’s service dog lying faithfully near the former leader’s casket encapsulated the gentleness and loyalty of the animal often designated as “man’s best friend.” The whole world was taken by the beautiful sight and reminded of just how wonderful dogs can be. I suspect that almost every person has a story of a wonderful pup that brought joy into his/her life. There is something almost spiritual about the relationship between humans and their dogs, a bond that is pure, guileless and angelic. Most of us have experienced the unconditional love derived from having such gentle creatures in our world.

I’ve often told the story of the little white hound that came mysteriously to our front door right after the death of my father. He had no identification and nobody in the neighborhood had ever before seen him, and yet there he was. He came each night to guard our home and then went on his rounds during the day. He was sweet and friendly, seemingly aware that we were frightened and fragile. Of all the houses on the street he somehow chose ours and we felt as though he had been sent from heaven to ease our pain and our fears. We called him Whitey and waited patiently each afternoon for him to return to us secretly hoping that he would choose us to be his permanent family even as our mother warned us that he might one day return to his rightful owners.

We eventually became confident enough to put him in our backyard behind a chain link fence where he appeared to be quite content to stay. Then one morning he was gone never again to return. He had done his magic, taking us through the toughest days of our grief. Our mother told us that it was time for him to move on to someone else who needed him more. He had been our miracle for just enough time to help us to adjust to our new normal. We would never forget him and the joy that he brought us and we would always believe that he was a special gift to us from heaven. 

A few years later we bought another dog, a collie as lovely as Lassie of television fame. His name was Buddy and he was as good and faithful as any creature might be. He became a kind of mascot for the entire street where we lived, watching after not just our family but many of the other children on our block. We loved him like he was a brother and took it for granted that he would always be with us. He carried us through our childhoods and then one day became sick and died. Our trauma was as deep as if he had been a little brother who passed away. 

My husband and I have had two dogs during our time together, both female Golden Retrievers. The first had been named Red before we brought her home. She was a perfect dog in every possible way. Like Buddy she was beloved by all of our neighbors because she had not a mean bone in her body unless she was protecting one of us. When she died our hearts were so broken that we felt unable to go through such an experience ever again. Our daughters convinced us that our grief would be lessened if we brought a new puppy into our home and so we found Scarlet who was as sassy as the famous character from literature who went by that name. She too burrowed into our hearts.

Dogs sense our moods and seem to know exactly how to react to the way we are feeling. If we are sad they snuggle with us and quietly show us how much they care. When we are happy they play with us. If we are sick they watch over us. They warn us of dangers and let us know whom we might trust. Their instincts are attuned to our hearts. They are innocents who may annoy us with their mischief but never betray us.

I do not have a dog now. After Scarlet died we decided to remain without a pet for a time. Instead we enjoy our grand dogs, five cute little creatures who are as different from one another as any brood might be. Cooper, a pug, is the elder among them. He has spent many sleepovers at my house while his family travels. He’s a sweet fellow who loves to cuddle and only barks when he wants food. I’ve grown rather close to him over the years so when he became seriously ill and in need of surgery this past fall I was greatly concerned.

It took him quite a while to recover from his illness and he lost a great deal of weight and his usual personality. I worried incessantly about him but my fears were unfounded because he slowly began to revert to his old ways. When I visited his home last week he greeted me with an insistent bark that told me he wanted me to provide him with his dinner. I felt overjoyed as I filled his bowl and watched him devour the food and then saunter over so that I might scratch his back. We had a moment together that was quite touching. I wanted to spend the rest of the evening petting him and letting him know how much I loved him but I had math tutoring to do with my grandsons, so Cooper and I had to be content with knowing that we really do love each other.

Horses are enchantingly beautiful and cats are mysteriously lovely, but dogs are gifts for our souls. They are the perfect companions who ask for little more than nourishment, a few pats on the rump, and space to run and play. They love and protect us and bring a kind of magic into our lives. It’s little wonder that we notice that God spelled backwards is dog. They are angelic creatures and we are the fortunate recipients of their loving presence. 

La Casa de Cooper

pexels-photo-922934.jpegLast week I was privileged to have my granddad Cooper stay over as a house guest. He’s an old fellow who doesn’t move around much these days. He’s perfectly satisfied with a few belly scratches now and again and generous bowls of food. He adheres to a strict routine these days and only barks when he knows its time for a meal. Never mind that Daylight Savings time is in effect, Cooper insists on enjoying his breakfast and dinner at exactly the same hours each day. He follows me around as I putter in the house and it’s quite nice to hear the pitter patter of his little feet.

I suppose that I forgot to mention that Cooper is a pug who seems to imagine himself as being a regal member of Chinese royalty. He bears his ancestry quite well and spends most of his time sunning in front of my bedroom window with only mild curiosity about the happenings outside. He came with me when I did a bit of gardening and got the attention of the neighborhood dogs who barked ferociously at him. He generally ignored their in hospitable greetings and looked at me as though he thought them to be rather silly.

While Cooper’s family was away having a mini-vacation and enjoying ice cream every single day I spoiled him a bit with treats and extra helpings of food. He’s supposed to be on a diet but what good is it coming to Gammy’s house if he can’t bend the rules just a tiny bit? His favorite activity is lying on the couch next to my husband while we watch television in the evenings. He sleeps peacefully without even noticing that we are viewing a John Wick film. How he snoozes through the action is beyond me, but he does.

Cooper is always welcome at my home because he is no trouble at all. Some dogs are quite demanding and have a tendency to make messes. He just leaves little tiny hairs that I will be vacuuming up for weeks to come. I’m probably the only one who notices them. so it hardly matters that he left them behind.

I sometimes think of getting my own full time pet once again but then I consider all of the responsibilities associated with having a little creature and I change my mind. My life has become far too gypsy-like to include a dog. Perhaps when I begin to slow my pace and spend most of my days at home I will find myself a nice little guy like Cooper and provide him a space in my home. Until then I’ll just keep inviting Cooper over for a stay.

Cooper was a rescue dog. When his family got him his name was Ben. The trouble with that is that they already had a son named Ben and didn’t think that it would work out to have two with the same name. Since it was a lot less complicated to change the moniker for the dog, gentle Ben was suddenly Cooper. He got his new designation because the other adopted pet that they owned was named Shane. Since he was found wandering along a highway the people who found him imagined whoever lost him wishing that he would come back. So Shane and Cooper became dog brothers and had a great time together until Shane died last summer.

The family thought that Cooper would hardly notice that Shane was gone, but instead Cooper was quite sad. They thought that bringing in a new dog might cheer him up. They purchased a yellow Lab puppy named Luna who is a ball of energy. She loves Cooper but wants to play with him all of the time. He gets a bit grumpy when she chases him and he can’t get away, but we can all tell that he actually gets a kick out of the little tyke. Nonetheless I think that he enjoyed having some time to himself at my house. We provide him with way more attention than he gets at home.

Domesticating dogs is one of the grandest ideas that mankind has ever had. They are loyal and and sweet and lots of fun. Some are even protective, but Cooper is a bit too old and tired to worry about such things. He sleeps more hours than he is awake. He’s a bonafide old geezer, set in his ways and happy as long as his needs are satisfied.

Cooper may not be the brightest bulb in doggy land, but that doesn’t mean that he is not smart. He understands that his breakfast consists of dry food and dinner includes a nice moist and meaty topping. If I move too slowly in creating the appropriate recipe he barks until I get my act together. There is no fooling him!

I hope that Cooper gets to come visit many more times. He’s in his eighties in people years so there is no telling how much longer it will be before he crosses over the Rainbow Bridge. I know that I will be quite sad when that happens. I hate to admit it, but he is the favorite of my grand dogs, and besides his snoring is just adorable. Mi casa es la casa de Cooper.