Ever since I can remember, I've always lived with a dog. On and off my parents usually had a family dog. However, the day finally came when I wanted to get my very own dog--I was in junior high school, barely a teenager when my folks finally caved and said I could have him. Him, being a massive collie that needed a good home. Well, what home could be better than mine? I really had to do a hard sell on my dad though. The last dog that my mom had talked him into had a pretty bad attitude and would bite us kids, so he wasn't too keen on owning another. It would be my dog though--I begged. I promised wholeheartedly to take care of him--all of him, the walking, the feeding, the brushing--everything. And I did too. He was mine, all mine. I loved that big ol' collie and cried like a baby when his arthritis got the best of him and we had to have him put down. I was a newlywed by that time and I think I really scared my new husband. I was that much of a mess over the loss of my dog. Little did he know what the future held for him.
Over the years I've had many more dogs--collies, golden retrievers, a few short-term rescue dogs and then...one Mother's Day my little family took me someplace top secret, very hush hush--they were super excited, which added to the fun. It was a surprise. A secret. A special gift just for me. You see, I've always been enamored by a certain breed. I'd never owned one though and after losing our beautiful golden retriever to cancer, my husband thought it just might be the time to surprise me with the breed of my dreams. A little shetland sheepdog--a sheltie--the breed that some call miniature collies--although they are their very own breed. Just the thought of something so Lassie like in an itty bitty form, well, that sounded so intriguing to me.
Excitedly we pulled up to the breeder's place, and oh my goodness. There were 5 little bundles of fur rolling all around in the grass, and I was supposed to pick one--just one! I played with them, and snuggled with them, but all the while I had my eye on the one who was off by herself in a little corner. Detached, aloof, she was uninterested in me, and her litter mates--that's for sure. So, I walked over and picked her up. She gave me the funniest look, and then took her little nose and nuzzled it up onto my neck--as if to say--finally! That was it for me--I had found my dog. I named her Katie. She was absolutely by far the smartest dog I have ever owned. She even earned her CGC. Yes, for years she was my baby. I'm sure there were many times that my children were jealous of her. She went everywhere with me, she slept in our room, and she was mine, all mine. I loved her to pieces.
When Katie was about 10 years we moved across the country to Ohio. This was new territory for all of us. I had 2 shelties by then. Here we all were, new state, new city, new culture, new house--everything was different. We were trying hard to adjust. Our daughter was busy planning her wedding, our oldest son was just starting college, our youngest was acclimating to his new high school and my husband was extremely busy with his new job. Everyone had something to do, and somewhere to go--my biggest challenge was to make our new house a home and to get our entire family settled. It worked for about 3 weeks. And then, the horrible of horribles happened. Now remember--this is my account of what happened, my family might have another rendition. However, I do think mine is pretty accurate.
I had let the dogs out into our little backyard one morning, and when I went to let them back inside, only one dog came back in--the other Katie, was missing. The word panic doesn't even begin to describe the emotion that rolled through my brain. I began calling her name over and over. No Katie. I roused the kids (my husband was hundreds of miles away on a business trip) and we began an all out search for this little dog of ours. Up and down blocks and blocks, street by street, calling her name, looking through back yards and knocking on doors. Have you seen our dog? I could envision her being hit by a car, looking for her new home, not knowing where she was. The term gut wrenching comes to mind. We looked for 3 days. We called every animal shelter, we ran an ad on the local radio station, we put fliers on every tree, we gave our local country club fliers to put in their customer's lockers (their idea) we looked until our legs gave out. I cried and mourned and wept as though I had lost a child. My husband even cut his trip short and came home early to help in the search. I was completely undone. I wanted my dog back. I prayed, I cried, I pleaded. My Katie was no where to be found.
When my husband got home he resumed the animal shelter speed dial process all over again. And then one day--a hit. They thought they might have her. The shelter was 10 miles from our home. We drove there as quickly as possible. I stayed in the car--too anxious to go inside only to be disappointed if it wasn't her. I sat in my car praying--for her safe return, for her little emotions--her wondering where we were. I could just imagine her wondering why we hadn't come to get her. So many thoughts and emotions passed though me as I sat there waiting impatiently for him to come back to the car. Would he find her?
And there, carried in her daddy's arms was our little Katie. Dirty, but OK. He dropped her into my lap, I hugged her so tightly and I cried so hard that even my husband began crying. There we sat, in the parking lot of an animal shelter crying our eyes out, arms wrapped around our dog. She was safe, she was OK, and she was going home.
The man working at the shelter told the story of how she had been found on a freeway overpass by a motorist. The man stopped his car, called her over and put her in his car. He said he could tell by looking at her that she was a very loved, well groomed and obedience trained dog. He hated leaving her at a shelter but felt he had no choice. She did not eat for 3 days, she did not go to the bathroom, she just curled up on her little bed and waited for us to find her. The people at the shelter felt so sorry for her, so they took her on special one on one walks, they even bought her canned dog food to see if they could coax her to eat. But no, she would have none of it, she just wanted to go home.
After getting her home, bathing her, feeding her, and tucking her in, we went out and bought a huge box of chocolates and a thank you card for the workers at the animal shelter. They, along with the man on the highway had saved my dog's life.
Now, an explanation is needed here. Why was I so overly emotional about losing Katie? Why did I cry like I was losing a child? Why was I so distraught? Well, my self diagnosis would be this--with moving, not being familiar with my surroundings, not having friends, or extended family members, everything being topsy turvy--it set off an emotional avalanche for me. I reacted in an unusual way. I am usually, the non-panic type. The voice of reason. The thinker, the planner. Not this time though. I was the fall-aparter. I needed my husband and my kids to hold me together. I'm pretty sure that I even learned something about myself through all that happened during that time. One thing I learned (I had probably known it all along) was that no matter what--my family will come to my rescue. Even if they think I am overreacting--they love me. They hated seeing me in so much emotional stress. They canvassed our neighborhood just as much, if not more than I did looking for my dog. That meant the world to me.
That little episode, that horrible of horribles brought our little family closer together. At that particular time in our lives we were all we had. We worked together as a team to bring Katie home. We prayed, we cried, and we rejoiced at her return.
It's funny how things turn out. How animals can and do affect our lives. I've often wondered why God put such a love for dogs and horses in my heart. I'm glad He did though. And I'm glad that my kids all have dogs--I was a little concerned after my Katie melt down that I had emotionally (unintentionally) scarred them for life. But no, they are all just doing fine. And as for Katie--well, a few years later, she passed away. We now have another sheltie, just as smart, but oh so crazy. She has Katie's looks, but her very own nutty personality. And, we just love her! Thank God for dogs! And also, for our sweet memories of all dogs past.
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| Katie, in California |
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