A dog’s tale

It’s odd how the good and the bad, the sweet and the bitter, are often mixed together, and you have to pause to figure out what lessons you are being taught. In this case, the mixture of lessons was taught by another dog story, parts of which you may already know.

I took ownership of the young female German shepherd last summer. It was not an inexpensive proposition. There was the purchase price, cost of spaying and removing dew claws, cost of shots and microchipping, cost of repairs to an injured foot, cost of obedience training, cost of a huge crate, various leashes that were supposed to control a headstrong dog, and a cover to protect the back seat of my car from constantly shedding dog hair during trips to the vet. There was a new heavy duty vacuum cleaner to fight the shedding in the house, and a robotic vacuum, a Roomba, to assist it in a losing battle. There were flea, tick, and heartworm medications. And food. Lots of food.

Obviously, the first lesson, and one I’d learned before, was to think long and hard before assuming responsibility for something that takes so much upkeep. And that repays you by chewing parts of two recliners and a couch, decorative candles, books, too many attractive small household items to count, and two sections of dining room baseboard.

But all her depredations and costs were outweighed by two facts: She loved me, and I loved her. My small Yorkie hated her, but he was outvoted. She sought and gave affection often, sensed my despair in low moments and hurried to rest her head in my lap and gaze at me with concern, and slept quietly within arm’s reach by my bed each night. Her bark would make the grandfather clock jangle its chimes nervously and, I felt sure, would raise second thoughts in any would-be burglar.

And then she ran after a deer at twilight and disappeared from my life. The sharp pain of loss was intensified by guilt, for I had failed to install her collar and identification before taking her out that evening. A lengthy search of the woods yielded nothing. Fliers on trees and posts and in paper boxes and gate-posts, large posters erected at intersections, notices on social media and a variety of internet exchanges, yielded numerous false alarms but not my dog. Notices were posted in veterinarian offices, in the post office, and at animal shelters. Personal visits to the animal shelters, just to make sure, were depressing and unproductive.

In the fourth week after my companion’s disappearance, I gave up almost all hope and began removing the signs I had stuck up around the county. One day I pulled up all the large posters and their stakes from the ground. That night a neighbor I’d never met phoned me and said, “I think I may have your dog.” She had picked the dog up running down the road, she said, just a few days before, and had just that day seen my notice on a veterinarian’s bulletin board. Where the dog had been before the neighbor picked her up, I have no way of knowing, and the dog isn’t talking. She was returned to me well-fed and in good shape, and I could ask no more than that. Now my newest expense will be fencing the back yard.

So it was that I relearned some old lessons, like do preventive things even when you’re tired or lazy. And don’t give up hope until every possibility is gone. And be aware that, despite all the bad things going on in this world, people will sometimes help you even without being asked.

A more painful lesson was learned when I visited the pound and various animal shelters. If you think you’re a hard-hearted person, let me suggest that you go and walk slowly down the aisle by the cages. Some dogs will bark from apprehension, some from joyful anticipation. Some press against the bars, tails wagging frantically, so hopeful that you are there to take them with you. Pleading eyes burn into yours as innocent animals wish desperately for rescue from their cells, so afraid of what the future holds for them, even while unaware that their future is almost certainly death.

Take a look. You might want to adopt. If not, at least swear that you will never let more of these lives come into existence only to die in loneliness and despair.

This story was originally published March 17, 2017 at 3:32 PM with the headline "A dog’s tale."