Stray No More - Plus Four!


 

I can’t believe that it’s been 4 years since my two dogs, Reese and Roscoe became part of my life. And as I think back on the events that brought us together, it’s hard to believe our paths even crossed.


Ironically, I wasn’t there for the first meeting. My wife, son, and granddaughter were headed home from a quick spring break trip to the lake. Instead of driving back on the normal route, they decided to take a longer, scenic way. After a few miles, they spotted them on the side of a two lane highway.  A black and white pup with his brindle colored running mate. They were dirty, stinky, skittish dogs. Not a collar between them. It was obvious they had missed a few meals. One of them had a dime sized tick below her eye. Normally, curs like this elicit a collective sigh, and are forgotten by the next mile marker.  Not today.  Not when the black and white one could have been the brother of my beloved, departed bird dog, Precious. Rilynne, being the brash, insightful, granddaughter that she is, recognized this immediately, and issued a command.  “Dad! You have to turn around!  That dog looks just like Precious!  We have to show him to Granddaddy!”  A tap on the brakes, a three point turn, and within 5 minutes, I’m getting a FaceTime message of a little girl playing chase with two nasty pups.  The audio is my wife crying, “We just can’t take one of them and leave the other one behind. We just can’t.”




What could I do?  No sane man can say no to a sobbing wife and a happy granddaughter. I nodded in agreement, then  watched them herd the pups into the car. Once I hung up, one of my office buddies who overheard the entire call, smiled and said, “That was the most expensive trip to the lake you’ll ever have in your life.”


He was right about that.  


In another two hours the dogs were in my back yard, lapping up huge quantities of love and hamburger meat. I came home and met them, making it official: they were strays no more, but members of my family.


So, it’s good bye clean house.  Hello dog hair and carpet accidents.  That’s OK with me.  I’m a dog person. I prefer dogs to most people.  


Consequently, it was no surprise to my friends how hard I took the loss of my last two dogs, Precious and Bugsy (both rescues, by the way). Even though it’s been a few years, the wound still hasn’t healed.  Honestly, it never will. On several occasions I swore I would never have dogs again, because I already had the pet loves of my life. And I don’t like concept of “replacement dogs” - getting another one soon after the loss of a beloved companion. To me, that dishonors the memory of the dog you lost.  I have to grieve for a while, a long while. In fact,  I still get teary eyed at our lake house because it was such a special place for me and Precious. Considering what was going on in my life at the time, she was undoubtedly an emotional support dog. The joy and love that dog gave me can’t be put into words.  People close to me told me to get over it and get two more because there are so many dogs that needed rescuing.  

 

So, I guess it was time.  I wasn’t ready, but they sure were.  And four years ago on the side of State Highway 257, it happened.  They found me.  

 

It seems that every couple of months we hear about someone who wins millions of dollars in one of the big powerball lotteries.  But I know two dogs that hit a lottery ticket that’s worth more than that to them.  


And if I’m being honest, it’s worth more to me, too.


Happy Gotcha Day, Reese and Roscoe. 



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