He was only a dog

A friend of mine lost her beloved dog recently. After a lifetime of love, this big old Lab mix closed his tired eyes and was gone. My friend was trying to be brave but I could hear the sadness in her voice as she hung up the phone. To some he was only an old dog, but to her he was something more. He was a valued part of her family.

Tonight, I was sitting on my front porch in my old Adirondack chair thinking about my friend and wishing I could take away some of her sadness. Then I felt a gentle tug at my feet.

Rolling around on the floor was my Bernese mountain dog pup, Sebastian. He’s almost eight months old now and is quite a handful. He didn’t think that I noticed that he had my new shoe in his mouth. When I looked down, he dropped it and pretended to be using it as a pillow.

Buried deep within the mischievous brown eyes of that silly pup is the image of his grandsire, Hercules. When Hercules passed at 12 and a half, my heart was broken. I was sure I would never get another pup again, ever. I was never going to put myself through that kind of pain again. He too, had been much more than “only a dog.”

Not long after Sebastian’s arrival, I met a nice woman named Carol who was just beginning the long process of selling her home and moving to a new location to be with friends. She was very much alone in a big empty house that she was now sharing with her shepherd-mix friend. As soon as I walked through her front door, it was obvious that Carol was no ordinary homeowner; she was a dog lover. Photos and paintings of Bichon frises and Boston terriers mixed in with the handsome family portraits of her husband and friends. Photos of silver cups and pretty blue ribbons showed that this was not just a collection of artwork, but a gallery of memories.

When Carol greeted me on the day of her home inspection, she had a sad look and was flanked by her constant companion, who waited patiently at her side. The stress involving a sale can be crippling, so I was anxious for small talk to help ease her pain. I asked her about some of her wonderful photos.

Carol had lived a happy life with her husband, Frank, for 36 years. Her eyes beamed when she recalled some of their moments together. The two built their lives and passions around the joys of Boston terriers, cocker spaniels and Carol’s favorite, puffy white Bichon frises.

As she continued her story, I watched her facial expression begin to change and soften. Her favorite Bichon pup, Timmy, received a best-in-show award at the Nassau coliseum match show, a large accomplishment for a little dog. “He beat out 2,400 dogs that day,” Carol beamed.

As the years passed Carol and Frank continued to share in their hobby, adding an assortment of rottweilers to their kennel. I guess that it’s only natural that a couple so joined in life by dogs should make a secret pact with each other. If one of them should pass on before the other, a sign was to be sent that he or she made it and was fine.

Years passed and Frank, Carol’s beloved husband, fell ill and crossed over. Carol fell into a deep depression and found herself in a very dark time in her life. Two years had passed and she was still waiting for something special, something that would let her know that everything was going to be okay again and that Frank was still with her in spirit.

I felt her pain as she paused to collect her thoughts. I was surprised when her facial expressions began to change once again. After a pause, a calm contentment rushed into the moment and she finished her story.

On the saddest of all days, she said, she was sitting in her kitchen reading a book when her cat started to act up at the window. She got up to see what all of the ruckus was about. Slowly she opened the kitchen curtain and peered out into the front yard. There, sitting happily at the head of her driveway, was a tiny Bichon frise. She took the dog in. She tried to find a missing owner, advertised, but there was no reply.

It could only mean one thing. The inexplicable appearance of a dog of that breed was a powerful moment for a woman who devoted her love and life to that kind of dog. It was a gift so special, it could have only come from Frank. So on that remarkable day, a little dog found his way to a lonely heart.

To Carol, this was proof positive that Frank came through to her from some place else. Little “Frankie,” who was so named after his namesake, found his way into her grieving heart. And on that day, one special pup pulled her out of that dark time of her life and gave her renewed hope that love lives on. But still, you could say he was “only a dog.”