I met Sable in January of 1996, really by accident. I was visiting the animal shelter to check on a dog that had been hit by a car on a busy street a few days earlier, and had been left there in the middle of the road. I had stopped to rescue the dog and helped get him to the shelter. When I returned to the shelter that day to see how he was doing, I learned that no one had claimed him, but that his back had been broken and he was to be put down. I spent a few moments visiting him and sadly said goodbye.
On my way out of the shelter I couldn’t help but notice the rows of dogs in the kennels, many containing multiple dogs, each one looking out at me as if to ask if I was there to take them home. In one of the kennels were four dogs, three large dogs jumping and barking at the door, and one smaller black dog, looking very much like a miniature black lab, sitting quietly at the back observing the chaos before her. Something about her made me stop. I knelt down at the door and called to her. She timidly attempted to make her way forward, but the three larger dogs totally overwhelmed her with their boistrous antics, and one even threatened her with an aggressive growl. She retreated to the back of the kennel again, and sat quietly watching me.
I found myself looking for a staff member and asked what they knew about the little black dog that had caught my eye. They guessed she was 6 to 9 months old. She had been picked up as a stray, had not been claimed and was available for adoption. I went back to the kennel to look at her again, and was struck with the same strong sense that there was something special about this quiet little girl. I asked the shelter to hold her for a few hours while I thought it over.
I drove away but couldn’t get her out of my head. I found myself driving to a local store where I bought a collar, leash, bowls, food, treats, toys and a soft pillow which I put in place in the back seat of my car, which I would later learn would be a most significant place for her.
I headed back to the shelter and eagerly paid the $35.00 fee to adopt the little black dog. I put the collar and leash on her and she followed me without any hesitation, jumped into the car and took her place on the pillow. As I drove home, I looked back at her frequently. I’ll never forget how she sat just gazing at me as if she was sizing me up and wondering what lay ahead for her.
From that day on, Sable, as I named her, proved herself over and over again to be every special thing I thought she was, and more. She became my constant companion, accompanying me every where I went. I am a sales rep and travel different places every day, and Sable went with me on every trip, even staying in hotels with me when my work required overnight travel. She adapted herself into every aspect of my life, trotting along happily on horseback rides, and eagerly exploring every leaf, flower and tree on long walks in the woods. She loved to go for boat rides and claimed her spot at the very tip of the bow where she stood sniffing the breeze. She even enjoyed climbing aboard the ATV and riding in my lap when she got tired of running alongside. She was a great sentinal and never let a stanger approach without warning. She ran like the wind, which earned her the nickname of “Super Sonic Sable” (and once also earned her a torn CCL!)
More than any of this, though, was the early realization that Sable was truly a very special and unique dog…one who quickly proved herself to be that “once in a lifetime” dog. Sable was more human than dog. She never lost that intense gaze…she would sit and look into my eyes with such intensity…I could just sense that she understood so much more that I probably ever gave her credit for.
She was such a GOOD dog-beyond what I ever imagined a good dog could be. She never ran away, never chewed things in the house, never had accidents in the house (unless she was sick)was always obedient and never had to be on a leash. I could take her into anyone’s home, or any of my places of business and she would stay by my side without ever needing to be told to. On walks, she’d love to explore, but if people approached who were walking dogs, all I had to do was call her to my side and she’d walk quietly at a heel (which I never officially taught her!) while the other dogs would pass by pulling and straining at their leashes, nearly choking themselves. I can’t even count the times I heard people say, “what a well-trained dog” I had. I could even put a plate of my own food on the coffee table and leave the room and never worry that she would help herself. She never even got up on the furniture or on the bed unless she was invited.
Sable never attended an obedience class and never went through any formal training. I never had to teach her to be a good dog – she just WAS a good dog…no, she was a great dog, the best dog I’ve ever known. She wanted nothing more than to please and she instinctively knew how to do it, whether it meant sitting quietly by my side when I was sad, or making me laugh just when I deperately needed to.
Many people claim to have found a best friend in their dogs, and I know without a doubt that I found in Sable the best friend I’ll ever know and the truest soul mate there could ever be. In her gentle, quiet way, she helped me through my mother’s death, my divorce, and so many other life experiences, I couldn’t even list them here. She made me smile and laugh, and made me feel more loved and accepted than I have ever felt in my life.
The nearly fourteen years I was blessed to have Sable with me flew by, and I can still barely comprehend that I will have to spend the rest of my life without my constant companion and dearest friend.
Sable was the picture of perfect health for most of her life, up until the month I lost her. She ended up having hemangiosarcoma, and I learned the hard way that a precious life can be taken from you so quickly that you barely even have time to understand what is happening. This form of cancer was frighteningly aggressive. We found the tumors via ultrasound on September 10th, and on September 17th she let me know that it was time to go. The hardest and most painful moment of my life was giving the OK to proceed with her euthanasia and holding her in my arms while she quietly slipped away.
Every second of every day that I had Sable in my life was a gift and a blessing that I am so grateful for and will never forget. I know now that God led me to that kennel in that shelter on that January day in 1996. He knew that I needed her even more than she needed me.
She’s been gone nearly 3 months now, but I still long to see her in all the places where she always was, especially there in the back seat of my car, or curled up on her pillow in the living room, making her rounds at the barn during chores or happliy greeting me at the front door. I still miss the sound of her barking at the UPS truck pulling in the driveway, her excited whine while I prepared her food, and the click of her nails on the floor. I still long to feel the softness of her velvety ears or the gentle weight of her body next to me in the night. Those places of emptyness will never be filled, but I know in time they won’t feel so vast.
Sable’s legacy and the profound impact she had on my life will always be with me, and she will always and forever live on in my heart. And someday, I know there will be a joyful reunion between Sable and me. Until that day, wait patiently for me Sable Girl and sleep softly, Black Dog, for as long as I live, you shall not die.
“The tide recedes
but leaves behind bright
seashells on the sand;
The sun goes down
but gentle warmth still
lingers on the land;
The music stops and yet
it echoes on in sweet refrains…
For every joy that passes,
something beautiful remains.”
With all my love and gratitude,
| Sable |
| 17, Sep 2009 |
| Mary Boyd |