Intrepid

A memory-

I sit on the sofa, looking out the window at the large tree across the street, watching as the wind waved through the upper branches. The dog sleeps near my feet. When I make the slightest movement, she lifts her head and looks at me, ready to move if I move. It is her compulsion. She must be with me when she is with me. I often wonder if she is every fully asleep, as the slightest disturbance launches her into instant action. When she was just out her puppy stage (awkward and spindly), her acute hearing, light sleeping, registered passing cats in the dark of night. She would begin rapid fire barking, deep and frightening, waking me from dreams, confused with sweet adrenaline tingling to my toes.

I’d call her name out of reflex.

“Keyara!”

She’d offer one last bark, then a muffled growl.

I is for intrepid

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There were times I am certain she saved us from criminals. One night, she leaped onto the bed, nearly crushing me, intent on something just outside the window. I could hear nothing but her, and looking out, saw nobody worthy of her attention. The next morning however, I discovered depressions resembling footprints  in the soft dirt near our bedroom window.

 

RandKFor 14 years she protected and loved us. She was part of our family. We loved her back.

No one lives forever, and even the most fearless of us age and break down. She became the sweetest of old dogs, affectionate, but still attentive, always staring into my face, as if she was memorizing it, as if she knew her time was short.

October 13th, 2015 was her last day. We made it grand, though nothing could keep it from being crushingly sad.

I miss her.

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About fenster

There are some who call me, Tim?

11 responses to “Intrepid”

  1. ahtdoucette says :

    What a good dog. I’m sorry you lost her but glad you have the memories.

    • fenster says :

      Lots of them too! It is sometimes hard to remember the young dog when the old one is so fresh in my mind. Thinking of her does make me happy.

  2. kimberleycooperblog says :

    There’s something especially loveable about an old dog. Our two Labs made it to 14 1/2 and 15 1/2. The second one left us 3 years ago now, and we still miss him. Hopefully the good memories outweigh the sad ones. All the best.

    • fenster says :

      Old dogs are the best dogs. We lost her sister, Sage (a Golden/Chow mix) to cancer in 2011. I didn’t get to watch Sage get old, and that still makes me angry.

  3. Jess says :

    Oh, what a beautiful post. You brought tears to my eyes, Ryan.

  4. jmh says :

    Aw, this post made me cry. I’m so sorry for the loss of your pooch. She was a good dog.

  5. Liesbet says :

    What a wonderful story and what a wonderful memory, Ryan. When dogs become part of our family, it is heartbreaking to see them go. Their lives always seem too short. Such a good girl! Beautiful name as well.

    I read somewhere that it takes humans half a lifetime to become kind, gentle, loyal, considerate and loving, and that’s why a dog has a much shorter lifespan, because they do not have to learn these qualities, they already have them… And, they practice then their whole lives. Sorry for your loss.

    Liesbet @ Roaming About – A Life Less Ordinary

    • fenster says :

      Thank you, Liesbet. In her old age, she changed from that active, never stop moving, always want to be outside, shepherd into this perfectly content to just chill dog. We lost our other dog to cancer in 2011 and I always regretted not having the chance to watch her age. Dogs are the best.

  6. Beth Camp says :

    I grew up with dogs, boxers and German Shepherds, so I understand that deep bond and the difficulty in saying goodbye. Your testament to your dog brings back good memories for me . . . though I have learned to appreciate cats! Thank you for visiting my historical fiction blog!

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