We had some truly amazing dogs while I was growing up. They are one reason why I am such an animal lover. The oldest dog that I remember is my Dad's little blue heeler Smokey. She was his pal, and his alone. She went on the snowmobile with him while checking the trap-lines. She rode on his motorbike with him. She was his furry companion. When my mom came into the picture, Smokey became her companion as well. But when my sister was born-that was it. Smokey wasn't too interested in this smelly, noisy little human, but her people said she had to be nice. So she was. And soon enough, there were TWO smelly, noisy little humans and Smokey was enamored. We were her babies. She protected us and followed us everywhere on the farm. If the adults didn't know where my sister and I had toddled off to, all they had to do was look for the dog. She was a beautiful dog, and smart and loyal too. I remember when she died-I might have been 8 or 9 years old- and Smokey was an old dog by then. She was deaf and crippled with arthritis but goodness did she love her people. I'm certain she is the reason I hold a special place in my heart for dogs.
As the years passed, we attained more dogs on the farm. We always tried to keep two dogs, so that they would have company. In my time on the farm, we had a Smokey,Coco, Wolfie, and Dexter. Dexter is another dog that makes an appearance in many of my memories on the farm. He was an excellent herding dog, and was always keen to help put chickens to bed every night. He helped put cattle into pens, and was such a friendly, fluffy guy, who was absolutely terrified of thunderstorms. After I left home, my parents and brothers got a Buddy. Now they have a Sarge (who loves to chase flying crows and spin in circles) and a Patches (who is a wanna-be house/couch dog).
I had only been married and living in Prud'homme for 3 months when I felt I needed an animal. My farmer didn't have cattle- and didn't have any animals for that matter- and I was severely lonely without a dog or cat. We had gone home for Christmas and I ended up bringing my cat Meeko (who had actually taken up residence at my parents' neighbours since I left the farm) back with us. She was spoiled and totally soaked up all the lavish attention that was paid to her, as any typical cat will do. Then I went and spoiled all her "catty" fun by bringing home a puppy two months later.
My Grandpa found this puppy for me.
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| His first night home with us. |
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| Wyser and Meeko-love/hate relationship for life. |
He knew I was looking for a dog, and he knew how important it was for me to have one in my life. A man that he knew just happened to have a dog that had puppies. They were Catahoula/German Shepherd crosses (basically mutts) and there happened to be a very different looking one in the litter. He was black and white spotted, with ice-blue eyes. My Grandpa told the man that was the one I'd be taking, even though I hadn't set eyes on him until the day my farmer and I picked him up. It didn't matter though. As soon as I saw the little girl carrying him over to our truck, I just wanted to squeeze him with happiness.
The ride home was where he decided to accept us. We called him Wyser. He sat in the back seat of the truck, and stared out the back window for an hour, only stealing a couple of glances my way. Then he proceeded to be car-sick, and puked into the pocket of my farmer's bag. I got out, cleaned out the puke, and we went on our way. I sat with my arm hanging in the back seat so he would get used to me. Eventually, our new Wyser got tired of being shy, and lay his head down right on top of my hand and that was that. We were going to be okay- I was his person.
Wyser became my best friend. If you're from a small town, you'll understand that if you aren't born and raised in that particular town, you don't belong. You'll never truly "belong". But as a newly married "outsider", I can tell you that my only friend that first year in Prud'homme was, truthfully, Wyser. I worked at that time, and I would tie him up outside the house before I left for work every morning, because I knew he'd follow my farmer to my in-laws. Every day when I came back from work, he'd be SO happy, and I'd find new things destroyed. He chewed everything in sight. He even tore the bark from the cedar trees in front of the house. We moved to a different house in the fall, and he proceeded to chew the siding off one corner of the house. He chewed the doorway of his dog house. He barked all night long. He pestered the cat to no end, but only needed a couple of lickens from her before he realized he wasn't the boss of that one. He was a true brat. Then he grew older and he became such a well-behaved dog. He never pooped in the yard (I trained him right from the start to go into the field for his business). He barked whenever a strange vehicle came into the yard. He kept the coyotes out of the yard. He loved to go for walks & runs on his leash. He loved going for rides in the van with my farmer, and had his very own seat. He kept the muskrat population down as much as he could (he wasn't a very graceful hunter, but he loved stalking them). When my farmer and I had our babies, he wasn't sure of them at first, but in the last four years, he protected them when strangers came over, always putting himself between the kids and the new person. I felt safe when I had him at home with me, and whenever we went for walks or bike rides.
A month and a half ago, I had to put my best buddy Wyser down. He was 9. He had a tumour growing on his throat and one day out of the blue, it hemmoraghed. (It's very ironic to me that I lost my grandfather-who chose this dog for me- this past spring in relatively the same manner-he was a stroke victim and never recovered). All ironies aside, I took Wyser inside the house one last time, so the kids could say goodbye (they really didn't know it was the last time they'd be petting him, but I didn't want them to make a scene, I never would have made it through the ordeal to come). Off we went to the vet. Wyser hopped in the back of the SUV, and I made it 5 minutes from home when I decided he needed to sit in the front seat beside me if this was going to be his last ride. I rolled the window down for him, he leaned over onto my shoulder, and we took an extra long time to get to the vet. I had to fight back my tears as I explained to the vet what I thought had happened to him. She was very understanding and went through all of the options that I could choose if I wanted to try and save him. I knew, in my heart, that he wouldn't make it if he couldn't eat or drink. So the vet went ahead with my decision to euthanize. She asked if I wanted to stay for his end, and I said, "Of course! I have to!!!", and he crossed over as I held him and told him he was a good dog, petting him over and over. It was very hard for me to say good bye to my friend and loyal companion. Even the vet was crying with me (she's known him for as long as I have, as she's been seeing him every spring for his yearly shots). I'm glad that we didn't let him suffer, but I miss him every day. Every other day, one of the kids will mention him, or ask "Where's Wyser, Mum?" and I have to tell them that he's in puppy heaven chasing muskrats and we'll see him again some day.
You're probably thinking, well, it WAS just a dog after all, but it really wasn't for me when you get right down to the bottom of it. When I'm having a rough day, I miss having that interaction with him, especially when I talk to children all day long (stay at home mom's know what I mean!!!). I miss my pigeon/skunk hunting buddy, my muskrat killer, my running buddy, my security alarm, my pain-in-the-butt bathroom trips outside so he could "mark" his territory at 3 a.m.
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| October 2015 |
He never talked back, but he always knew exactly what I felt and he really did give the best hugs. I hope we gave him the best life he could have had. He'll be missed always and his place in my heart will never be replaced.
"See you at home, pooch."
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