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Thursday, April 05, 2007

Why I don't want a dog

Max died yesterday. Max is one of my aunt's dogs, and she's really bummed. I'm bummed for her and because every time one of her animals dies, I think about when Miss Fred died.

Miss Fred (yes she had a boy's name) was my all-time favorite dog ever. She was the best; because she was smart and obedient, but would only ask for love and attention when she knew she didn't have you share you with the other pets. (See the smartness?) She had a beautiful black coat and big brown expressive eyes that seemed to always ask how you were doing.

There is another dog I know with a similar beautiful black coat and brown expressive eyes. Sometimes I have to look twice just to see... but then of course I remember, there's no other dog like Fred.

1 comment:

Diana said...

Miss Fred was an incredible dog. She was wandering down the middle of NC-56 just a few miles outside of Creedmoor when I spotted her. A tiny thing that was about four weeks old and the vet thought she had been abused.

Of course I had to call my favorite niece to watch the baby puppy while I was at work. (I.E. I missed my niece terribly and had to have an excuse for her to visit.) And of course my favorite niece came to my house to help me with the new addition to my animal family. Fred grew into a beautiful dog of about 60 pounds and she was always well behaved except when she wanted her peanut butter . Fred once pulled a kitchen chair up to the counter then climbed onto the counter, walked all the way over to a cabinet, opened the door and grabbed a jar of peanut butter out of it. Then jumped down, took the jar outside, opened it, and ate it all! I think she copied my niece in tastes.

Miss Fred was 12 or 13 years old when she died of congestive heart failure. She never forgot my niece and, I think, she always thought she was my niece’s dog.

Mr. Max was a funny dog, he was born the night of hurricane Fran, and I think that will tell you all you need to know about his personality. He was about 8 inches high at the shoulders and about 3 feet long. Every vet claimed he was a different breed, from Corgi, to Lasha, to chow, to basset hound to.... He had these enormous ears that stuck straight up and I would worry that with a strong wind he’d be blown away.

I have to admit that he was my favorite mutt of the current bunch... No one could replace Marty James the Schnauzer, or Terri the Bouvier, and I love Shelby who is also a hurricane Fran dog, and beginning to like Toby Grandmother’s dog, but Max was, well Max. And I know he’s in Heaven with everyone else waiting for me.

As with all things that bring us great joy, dogs can bring us great sorrow. But the fear of sorrow, the fear of pain, should never be an excuse to reject the joy of a dog’s companionship. Dogs are mirrors to our souls and Miss. Fred was truly your Mutt in every way.