When I was a small child my father was always bringing home pets.
My mother of course always made him take them back
but nobody could have let Prudence go.
I was three years old when my father brought her home.
She was just a small puppy – a mix of black lab and spaniel.
She was black as midnight with just a spot of white on
her chest and had an almost human- like smile.
Prudence grew up with my brother and sister and I.
She was like a sister following us up and down the
dirt roads and through the trees.
She would include herself in our games. She was happy
when we were happy and sad when we were crying.
She protected us from other dogs and people and she loved
being a part of our family as much as we loved her.
She was a noble good and smart dog.
When Prudence was seven or so we bought two
more puppies – Shi-Tzus – Chelsea and Shiloh.
Prudence took Shiloh under her wing. She taught him the
tricks of the trade. It wasn’t often you saw Prudence without
a little white furball trotting manfully beside her or curling
up next to her when she would go to sleep for the night.
It was November 1997 when my dog got sick.
She was fourteen years old and developed a tumor on her the
right side of her face. We all fell into despair.
Just a week or two before she had been playful and happy.
The vet said at that point she wasn’t in pain she was in
depression…even she knew the time was near.
Shiloh broke my heart. He would sit next to her day and night,
trying to nurse her. He would jump around and dance to
cheer her up but it wasn’t any use.
We all knew what had to be done and whether she was
in pain at that point or not wasn’t the case. The dog was so
miserable that we couldn’t take it anymore.
She could never be healed and we couldn’t let her lie there
by the fireplace all day everyday just waiting for the end to come.
Now that Prudence has been gone for a long time we’ve all
(including Shiloh) healed from our loss but sometimes late
at night I can almost hear her scratching on my bedroom door,
to wake me up to open the door for her and she would jump on
my bed and leave me with about two feet of space to sleep.
Or Christmas when she would rummage through the paper for
her Christmas bone. I guess I’ll never really get over
my Prudence but I’ll always remember her.
Her face and the comfort she brought me in lonely hours.
I miss her. I love her. I’ll never forget her.
By Julia Porter
| Prudence |