May 2 1999 —– Aug. 2 1999
Australian Shepherd
My birthday last year didn’t have a memorable start.
To begin with my parents who live in North Carolina had to cancel their
trip to Oklahoma to come and see me.
My fiancé’ Richard who lived in Saudi Arabia at the time,
was understandably unable to be with me.
Work was no better (I was a security police officer in the
US Air Force – a K9 handler! – and had been forced to swap my partner
of over a year for “some puppy” I barely knew and we were having a
hard time adjusting to each other) so I wasn’t exactly the
happiest person on June 15 1999.
My house mate Danielle a fellow cop had gone into town to the grocery store
and was due home any minute. Glumly I had resorted to flipping idly through
TV channels and wondering just what in the world I was going to do to
pass the time on still another long hot Oklahoma day when I heard
Danielle’s Toyota pull into our driveway.
It seemed to be taking a long time for her to come in so I got up to open the
back door and see if she needed any help with groceries or anything.
Before I could touch the door knob the door flew open and two little pups
tore into the house! “Happy Birthday!” Danielle said as she hugged me.
“Thought you could use someone they couldn’t take away from you!”
The two puppies were Australian Shepherd mixes; one the female was black
with only a tiny tuft of white at her throat and the white male had a multicolored
face with a large brown patch on his back.
“Oh look,” I said totally unprepared for what I was about to say
“it’s Fancy and R.J.” !
And so they were named.
These two were smart – and really good at cooking up mischief
especially R.J. Time and time again he received punishment for his incessant
chewing (his sister was a little quicker about learning the meaning of “no”)
and his love of widdling on the carpet whenever he felt especially stubborn.
The two were inseparable; I swear to you they could run in tandem,
never tripping each other and trotting side-by-side.
The only surviving pups of an abandoned litter they were picked up on
the side of the road by a vet and after being vaccinated were given to
Danielle (who in turn gave them to me!). The bond these two
survivors shared was evident to all who saw them.
But R.J. – now he was something else! He had the impression
(as do many young males) that not only was HE the boss he was invincible.
Almost endless trips to pup Time Out (no toys no TV – which he would watch
believe it or not! – and worst of all NO ONE COULD TALK TO HIM!!) on the
tiny piece of linoleum at my front door did little to tame his attitude.
My dog training knowledge was reaching exhaustion levels as I tried everything
I knew and asked questions for things I didn’t know.
His first love was my shoes and he only picked the choicest LEATHEREST
(re: MOST EXPENSIVE) bits from my wardrobe to exercise his chompers on.
When caught he’d automatically retreat to the linoleum and sigh heavily
waiting for the verbal dressing-down he knew he was going to receive.
Head on paws ears perked he’d look up at me with big dark eyes and
I’d find it hard to focus on why he’d made me mad in the first place.
(Fancy was every dog trainer’s DREAM thank God because two of
R.J. would have been impossible.) Slowly he was beginning to
learn manners and I praised him every chance I could.
He was certainly my “son” though he was the typical little boy,
and Fancy was my well-mannered “little girl”.
At the end of July I flew to London to attend my future
brother-in-law’s wedding. I left the pups with a friend
(my roommate was also out of the country on temporary assignment)
and left explicit instructions on their care and feeding.
I assumed they would be well cared for and though I hated backing out
of the driveway that day I wasn’t too concerned about their well-being
and waved to them as they stood by the fence wearing that
heart-wrenching “Where ya goin’ Mom?” look all dog owners know.
When I returned eight days later I was heartbroken to find out that
my well-intentioned care arrangements had been in vain: the responsible
person I’d put so much trust in turned out to be tragically irresponsible
and R.J. had died as a result of his carelessness.
He’d passed off his promise to watch my kids on his girlfriend,
who’d retethered the dogs so they’d become entangled.
R.J. had broken his neck and died trying to escape the mess; luckily Fancy
somehow slipped her collar and escaped physically unharmed.
My neighbors discovered the animals and took care of R.J.’s burial for me
(the girl was going to just leave him in the yard for me to find if you can believe THAT);
they got my house keys from the girlfriend (another UNREAL thing)
and couldn’t catch Fancy. She showed up the day after I got back
sitting by my Accord’s back tire barking up a storm.
When I opened my back door she came in the house and nearly knocked
me down as if to say “I knew you’d come home for me Mom!”
R.J. I hope you know I’m sorry. I blame myself for what turned out to
be poor judgment though I truly couldn’t have predicted the outcome.
I left the best instructions I could – including instructions for how to tether
the two of you together so this couldn’t happen – and I am so sorry
someone let you down. I feel like it’s all my fault even though with
your happy-go-lucky personality I know you’d just shrug scratch
and forgive me (at least I hope you would).
Your sister still sometimes stops and looks around like something’s
missing but she can’t remember what.
I miss your silly antics (like how you would chew on the door trim and
pretend I didn’t see it) and the way you’d try to cover up your crimes
(like the time you got mad at me peed in the corner and then hid behind
Fancy when I discovered the mess when we BOTH know you did it).
I miss the way you’d come and jump on the bed while the alarm clock
was going off or the way you’d bark at the vertical blinds growling
and trying desperately to be “tough dog” when really you were all pup!
Your sister has grown into a lovely young dog all black with a reddish
sheen in the sun and I wish the two of you were still together.
You are missed R.J. but I am so grateful for the all-too-short time
you were in our lives.
(By the way I’m still wearing the black cloth loafers you chewed
the insoles out of – with Dr. Scholl’s inserts out of necessity!
Bless you R.J.!)
Kimberly
| R.J. |