I can’t imagine life without a dog …
Norman
One Saturday morning my wife and I drove to a house that had advertised a litter of black Schnauzer pups. He was the runt of the litter, but the moment I saw him I knew I wanted him. Every night, when I came home from work he would run through the house yelping in delight. He could be grumpy too – he didn’t like it much when other people came over to our house – he would yip and bark at them, but when we brought home our daughters Melissa, he quickly accepted them and was great with the both of them. Norman would lay on a blanket next to the babies and keep a careful watch over them. Norman had been an invaluable part of my family for 15 years, more than all my other dogs combined, and it was the pain from his loss that sowed the seeds of Rainbow Bridge in my mind.
Abby & Bella
One Saturday morning, about a month after Norman passed, we went to the local no-kill shelter. My daughters saw two puppies, a black and a blonde Beagle/Schanuzer mix littermates, in a separate cage. And so begins the story of Abby and Bella. We brought the dogs home, and like Norman they immediately adapted to life with us. Bella is the alpha, because Abby doesn’t give a damn. Abby is totally laid back, content to relax on the floor or couch and watch the world go by. Bella is terrified of car rides; Abby sticks her head out the window to feel the rush. And when we eat, we sometimes give treats to them, but while Bella waits patiently next to us, Abby stays in her dog bed, making us bring the food to her. Why? Because she can. Bella is more hyper, and a little more of a cuddler. But Bella prefers cuddling with my wife, while Abby cuddles with herself. The sisters are 11 years old now and are still in great health.
Sammie
One night we got an excited phone call from my oldest daughter. That morning she found a black puppy on her porch. The puppy was scared, hungry, and alone. Daughter said she had fallen in love with the dog, and that she was going to adopt “Sammie.” I immediately took a shining to Sammie. She was silly, playful, kissy, and would jump into my lap when I was on the couch. She was Norman all over again. When she came home for the summer she told us she could not take care of Sammie any longer. I told her it would be okay, we would adopt her. I love that goofy, silly dog. When I come home from work she mauls me, showing even more enthusiasm than Norman did, if that is possible.
The Scooters
My earliest memories of my dogs were with “The Scooters”, a series of black cocker spaniels my family adopted when I was very young. I am the youngest of five boys, so it seemed natural that we would have dogs to keep us company. But in the early 1960s, the traditions for family dog ownership were different, and not necessarily for the better. Like the rest of our neighbors in suburban Houston, we let our dogs run freely and unsupervised through our subdivision. Of course my brothers and I also wandered the neighborhood by ourselves – hard to believe that there was a time when three and five year olds could do that and nobody would even give it a second thought.
But the practice of letting dogs run free led to inevitable, tragic results. I wasn’t more than three when our first dog, Scooter, was killed by a car while running along a street in the neighborhood. So we adopted a second black cocker, Scooter II, but we only had him a short time. It gets hot in Houston in the summer, and Scooter II would sometimes crawl under our car parked in our driveway to nap and escape the sun. One day my mother, not knowing Scooter’s location, went to the car and began to back it out of the driveway … suffice to say, it was a tragedy that scarred my mother for the rest of her life.
We then acquired a third cocker, Scooter III. He lasted the longest, and I fondly remember my backyard playtime with him. But although we took better care of him, he still occasionally ran free, and as struck and killed by a drunken neighbor’s car.
None of the Scooters were with me as long as I wanted, but I will always fondly remember them. They gave me the love of dogs that I carry to this day.
Tiqui
We were very friendly with a retired couple who lived next door to us. They had adopted a miniature schnauzer with the exotic named “Tiqui” who would wander over to our yard to play with me on occasion. Tiqui lived a very sedate life with the retired couple, but he was the smartest and best trained dog I ever knew. When I was 12, the couple decided to move to an assisted living center, but they could not take Tiqui with them. So they asked us to adopt him.
My parents were reluctant, but I was ecstatic. Tiqui was primarily my dog, and spent most of his time with me. My brothers and I loved to play with him in our spacious yard. Now imagine a sedate, eight-year-old dog who was suddenly thrust into a family of five teenage boys. It was the best year of his life – he felt like a puppy again as he pranced through the yard playing keep-away with sticks and following us on our neighborhood adventures.
I also remember that Tiqui was terrified of thunderstorms. Whenever it rained, he would hide under the living room furniture, and I would crawl under there to keep him company. I still remember petting and holding him as he shivered and whined.
As much as he loved his new life, it inevitably proved too much for him to handle. About a year after he came to live with us, I came down the stairs one morning to find him collapsed in the foyer, unable to move his legs. My parents quickly got him into the car to take him to the hospital. But as they were getting ready to take him, I will never forget the look he gave me as I petted him – and the kiss he gave my hand. I think he knew it would be the last time we would be together. It turned out that he had suffered a massive stroke, and the vet had no choice but to put him down. I was devastated by the loss, but I will always treasure the year we had with each other.