There are two means of refuge from the misery of life- music and cats-
– Albert Schweitzer, German polymath (1875-1965)
A dog is the only thing that can mend a crack in your broken heart
– Judy Desmond, Australian Shepherds of 3/W Farms
At the age of 6 or 7 I was the only child at home. I desperately wanted a pet. My parents gave me a goldfish. It didn’t last very long because I picked it up daily and petted it. Next came the yellow canary. While at elementary school mom cleaned the birdcage outdoors where “Sunshine” took flight. Believe it or not mom caught Sunshine. It was determined that neither fish nor birds were good pets. Next came Inky, a solid black cat. Inky disappeared for weeks and I cried. Mom located Inky at a neighbor’s house, sleeping on the lady’s bed. Inky had a long life. Mom said after college I could get my own pets. That I did. I purchased two Pekapoos (hybrid cross Pekingese and Poodle.) They were easy pets but in time they would pass also. Following my loss, my veterinarian had rounded up feral kittens. I chose the fluffy white cat and named him Jack. She didn’t mention white cats are typically deaf. Jack learned my hand gestures. He lived a good life.
I made a trip to upstate Arkansas visiting a company I had worked for. The owners had a Great Pyrenees, a large white fluffy dog, known to be a guard dog. Also called “The Gentle Giant,” that day the dog walked down the mountain to meet the children getting off the school bus. The owners said the dog did that every day. He walked down the mountain and walked the children back. The dog is protective and gentle. I bought a pup.
The pup was a female and grew into an adult. Tess was her name. Tess turned out to be a wanderer, and nothing could stop her. Not a fence, not even an electric fence. One day I returned from church to find her caught in a rope where she died. It was heartbreaking. I decided immediately to find another. A woman at the Airbase told me they had Great Pyrenees both male and female. She said, “The female is always the one that digs their way out and runs. The males never do; they stand and guard.”
My next Great Pyrenees was a male and very gentle. I named him Jesse; he was protective and loveable. My neighbor told me that the dog was going to chase his cows. I smiled, “They don’t chase, they guard.” Jesse was a friend and companion. If someone came near, he’d stand between us until I told him it was okay. He could sense what he needed to do. Years later Jesse lived his lifespan. I sat on the porch steps, he walked away, turned to look at me, rounded the back of the house, settled down and passed. Losing him was painful but the memories are sweet.
Today I have Wilhelmina, the cat, sitting on the back of the couch watching me type and getting some sleep. One day she will go, and one day I will go, but never miss the joy you have right now.
Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].
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Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 46 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
