Violet, Kopi, Rosie, Buddy, Salvia, Jiggs, Little Red, Bosco, Daisy and Colt. This is not an exhaustive list, but it is a list of some of the most important dogs that we have had the pleasure of keeping in our home. It is said that a dog is man’s best friend, and in our life that has proven to be a fairly accurate statement.
Violet was the first dog that my wife and I had in our life. Violet was a black and white Border Collie mix with an extremely high intelligence level and a sweet disposition. We have a wonderful friend who lived in an area that seemed to grow abandoned dogs. Violet showed up on her cattle pasture, I took her home to give to my fiancé and she rarely left her side. Violet would greet me in the morning when I arrived to pick Rebekah up for school. She would jump in the back of my truck and go, literally, everywhere with us. When we went to classes at the college we attended, Violet would ride in the back, watch from the bed of the truck with anticipation and greet us when we returned. Not long after we were married and fixing our trailer house before moving in, Violet disappeared never to be seen by us again. To this day that dog holds the status of “best dog we ever had.”
Kopi was the brown Lab that I always wanted who loved to chase after lures cast in the fishing pond. Heaven forbid you catch a fish because she would do all she could to catch it before you were able to land the fish on the bank. Rosie was some mix of bird dog, nothing really special. She was just a good dog who loved to go camping and chase random animals through the campsite after the sun had retreated for the night. Buddy and Salvia were strays that honestly caused us more trouble than they were worth, but somehow worked their way into our hearts as the half crazy pets that gave us a lot of laughs and even more moments of frustrated anger. Buddy’s favorite past time was stealing and chewing gloves, and he once scared customers in a convenience store as he searched for his momma (Rebekah) Marmaduke style crashing items off the shelves. Jiggs wasn’t with us long, she was a Border Collie we got for Christmas to fill the void Violet left in our hearts. She loved to chase cars, which was not a healthy form of entertainment for her, and earned her name by the way she “danced” in her sleep. (Her full name was Jitterbug, but we called her Jiggs.)
There are the few really special animals in one’s life. Little Red, Bosco, and Daisy hold that rank. I’d like to spend a little time telling you about how wonderful these dogs have been to us. There certainly isn’t enough time or space to cover all of the stories we could tell.
Let me start with Little Red. She was a red and white Border Collie. I believe she was one of the smartest dogs I’ve ever been around. For the most part she was a quiet dog that longed to please Rebekah and I. She could jump in the back of a pickup truck with the bed shut, flat footed.
There was a lot about Red that reminded us of Violet. Their sweet temperaments were much the same. She loved the farm, loved waiting to nip the bull’s nose when he tried to sneak cubes off the feed truck, and loved us. Red was extremely patient and gentle with our son, who as a toddler, thought it was funny to run his Tonka truck over her legs.
She seemed to have the ability to read my mind, and rarely had to be corrected for bad behaviour. When Red died we buried her under a tree at the farm and my son picked flowers for her grave. We all cried that day, in fact extended family members were truly saddened at her passing. She was the dog that will never be replaced, there just isn’t another Little Red.
Bosco is the “duck dog” I always wanted. My wife got him for me when I was deployed to Afghanistan. She worked with him on retrieving and he did pretty good until it came time for the real deal. He successfully retrieved one Gadwall, but usually acted as if he didn’t much care for ducks, or the whole hunting scene.
He is technically my dog, but today he rarely leaves my wife’s side. He stands at the bathroom door while she showers, almost knocks her over as she tries to put her clothes on, sleeps on her side of the bed at night and lays his head at her feet while we eat at the kitchen table.
Bosco is a whole lot of bark, still not sure if he’d bite because he runs away from the thing he barks so intensely at. He’s about thirteen years old now, losing his hearing and eyesight. Bosco has never been very good at much anything productive, but he has truly been a steadfast dog in the story of our family.
He loves going to the farm, but we have to lift him on and take him off the truck as his joints just can’t handle it anymore. I got him some joint medicine, in the form of treats, but he refuses to take them from me, but will readily accept them from Bekah. He is going to be missed and I’m not too sure there’s another yellow Labrador out there like him.
Daisy is my son’s dog, one hundred percent. She has caused my son to shed many a tear with her long distance disappearances. As a Beagle, there are times that she picks up a scent and cannot contain herself as she wanders off in search of the thing that produced that scent. She used to be worse than she is now at running away, but was gone from home for 19 days as a result of her scent following nature. She is a little fat, extremely lazy and completely attached to my son.
Daisy is the product of the farm. Aidan and I went to fix some fence and arrived at the area in question only to have a little dog show up requiring every ounce of love a young child could offer. She soon caught whiff of a rabbit and abandoned our presence. She returned later to solidify her place in the heart of my young child. I explained that we couldn’t take her home, my son argued with all his might the reasons we not only should, but must take this poor dog home. I made a deal as she ran off to the woods baying at an unseen animal. I promised we would take her home if she returned from her rabbit hunt prior to finishing up our work on the fence, knowing that we had only a couple of minutes left before our departure.
I rushed to get done with the work and loaded my son in the care, only to see that dog sitting in front of the truck looking at me as if to say “I wanna go, don’t leave me all by myself.” As we drove home I exclaimed “you know your mother’s going to kill me for bringing this dog home?” My seven year old boy looked at me with adult-like seriousness and said, “no dad, she’s just gonna be really mad.” Daisy has slept with Aidan from day one and holds a very special place in his heart. This will be the dog that teaches my son about grief.
We’ve had several good dogs, some better than others, none exceptional by any standards. None of them have “earned” their keep with any significant work other than unconditional affection. They have all been disobedient at some point, went to the bathroom in a less than desirable place and destroyed something of value with their chewing. They have greeted us with excitement and ran to the diesel truck with a purpose at the sound of “load up.” They have cost us more in vet bills and food than sometimes we could afford. Mostly, they’ve been wonderful companions. They’ve been a source of laughter and comfort in a sometimes boring season of life. They’ve been a babysitter and guardian during times of deployment. Honestly, they’ve been “man’s best friend.”
Author: Garrett Napier