This week I made it to the county seat of a neighboring rural county a distance away. I go there sometimes to get horse and animal supplies, and we hadn't been there in a while. Grandson and I were happy to go with all the trees in their full glory in reds, yellow, oranges and a little green.
Often when we go to this town we encounter a man who is a veteran, who walks with an exceptionally well trained dog who is large part rottweiler. He once told me that the dog is an emotional support dog. "Aren't they all? " I said, not really getting, at that moment, what he was trying to tell me, about himself. Over the years we have really enjoyed encountering them. My grandson, now eight, has grown up going to this town, eating in the little "mom and pop" restaurant, shopping in the locally owned stores, and encountering the dog and his man.
I cannot effectively relate how lovely this dog always was to me. The man affectionately called him "Dog Meat", and he certainly was the most muscular or meaty dog I think I have ever known. The dog was a true muscular giant with a heart of gold. Most dogs like me, even when I did the census, and this one was no exception. He was always glad to see me, and he clearly recognized me each time I saw him. His owner had a theory that his dog, who had been a puppy on a farm and whose early best friends had been horses, smelled horses and my other multiple dogs on me, and knew that I was a friend to both horses and dogs. The dog was consistently obedient, loving and sweet although occasionally, his enthusiastically wagging tail would smart your legs as he wagged.
I remember taking one of my larger dogs to an immunization event in this town during the COVID lockdowns, and there was "Dog Meat" and his owner. "Dog Meat" was happy to see me, but the dog I had brought, part Borzoi and German Shepherd, was a new acquisition to me, and he wasn't the least bit happy to see that a dog as muscular as "Dog Meat" not only knew me, but took an interest in me. My poor shepherd mix quickly conveyed that he was ready to fight to the death if necessary. I told "Dog Meat" I would see him next time, and that this new dog didn't know him. He seemed to understand. But of course, "Dog Meat" has always been a highly intuitive dog.
This week when my grandson and I went to the town, we saw the veteran walking another dog. The new dog is a large young shepherd, and of course, doesn't know us. I did know that the man had been planning to get a second dog, and to begin training him. I asked about "Dog Meat" and how he was doing. The man had tears in his eyes as he related that "Dog Meat" had died three weeks before. The large dog had been ten years old, and although he was healthy until about half of his last day, the man knew that his friend's passing would soon be inevitable, simply due to age . "Dog Meat" seemed relieved at the man's having brought the shepherd puppy home, knowing that his owner was deeply dependent upon him, and would need a new dog on which to depend..
"Dog Meat", my family and I were deeply dependent upon you too. Seeing you every time I went to the town, and having you happy to see me was such an affirmation of so many things. It affirmed that dogs are as bright as I know them to be, and that they recognize the people who truly adore the species. I know that many people from town will miss you, even the police officer who insisted that you still be on a leash, even though you could walk with your owner totally obediently without one. Even during difficult times, "Dog Meat" could lift my own spirits. We love you and thank you for a life so well lived. You will be sorely missed, and will be remembered always.
As we went to leave, the dog's owner said to me. "I will never forget him, and I am not sure I will ever get over him". "I understand", I replied. "You will go on because he wants you to, but you will always remember and you will always miss him." The man deserved not to have the truth sugar coated. I miss so many wonderful dogs who are gone from my life now, even when they lived to and beyond their normal life expectancy.
Godspeed, "Dog Meat".
