One Dog's Tale

I find myself having some very meaningful discussions lately, even though they are a bit one sided. I work from home, and so it's me and the dog. They had named her Hershey at the first animal shelter where she was brought after being a stray for a while. Looking at her chocolate coat and yellow eyes, the name seemed to fit, so we kept it.

The initial shelter had no luck finding a home for this very large, somewhat scary looking dog, so they transferred her to a shelter with more traffic when her time was about to be up. They knew she was a good dog and thought she deserved all the chances she could get. And happily for all those involved, fate lent a hand.

It had been a year and a half since we lost Norton the Wonder Dog. He was one in a million, and it took a while to be ready for another pooch to take over and run the place. When realized we would always mourn him and that was that, we started talking about getting another dog. In a casual conversation with some neighbors at the weekend house, they told of a shelter we should visit. I went online, looked at the facility and the dogs available. There were three that were possibilities, Hershey was one of them.

When we arrived that weekend, one dog was already adopted, one was an adolescent with more energy than I thought I could handle, and then there was this big, brown sweetheart. Part Chesapeake Bay Retriever and part who knows. We've always thought some kind of hound by her gait, but it really didn't matter. Our brief introduction consisted of taking her out of her pen to a field outside. Once on the grass, she peed and I thought that was a good sign. I told her to sit, she did. I knelt next to her and put my arm around her, she didn't flinch. Sold.

We brought her home the next week.

She had a few issues, all dogs do, but nothing to ever make us second guess our decision. That was over eight years ago. They thought her age was around three when she was found, so for a large dog, she's getting up in age... and it's showing.

Her health is declining, kidneys, tumors, and a few other things. Getting old isn't pretty for man or beast. So lately, it seems the time we spend alone together every day is more significant. So we talk. Or I talk and she listens. I seem to spend a lot of time telling her that she's a good dog. I tell her I know she can't help what's happening to her and I will take care of her as long as I can. I tell her she can't help at times being such a bitch, just like I can't help it either. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Anyway, she seems to enjoy the added attention. When she stops being interested and shies away from the contact, I'll know we are getting close to saying goodbye.

But for now, we take every day as one to treasure. She takes everyday as one to be spoiled. It seems to work for all involved.

Time for a biscuit.

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