The clock ticked, the fire simmered…
An odd sound then, something like a sneeze.
He peered around. In a corner, the Jack Russell sat motionless in a wing chair.
“Bless you,” he said, keeping his voice low.
The dog cocked its head to one side and looked at him. It was a steady look, conversational in feeling. He’d read somewhere that dogs don’t make eye contact.
Baloney.
– Jan Karon, In the Company of Others
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In rare and wonderful moments, I’ve met people who look openly yet comfortably into my eyes and make me feel as though so many more-than-real and moving words are there… in our eyes… without ever being spoken. A connecting through the “windows of the soul.”
Dogs do that instinctively, luminously. Books of love…in their eyes.
It’s been 30 years since I lost the dog companion of my childhood… a beautiful sheltie- beagle-cocker-mix, with a world of words in her deep chocolate eyes… and yet, she still lives. For whenever I dream of the people of those days, she is there… a living video in my mind. Sometimes even now when I feel a slight stir of my bed as I move in my sleep, I can suddenly awake to think – for just a moment – it’s Dusty, jumping up to be with me! So is the power of once loving a dog.
She was deeply a part of our family – an inside dog – and as such, had free reign throughout our home. We even swore she watched TV with us as she sprawled out in our midst, her hind legs flat across the carpet, her eyes looking forward, every now and then ears cocked at all the “right” show moments. And I just knew she loved the music I loved, for didn’t she always rush to sit with me whenever I pulled out a favorite record?
If one of us was sick, she’d make a beeline to nestle her soft fur in the crook of our knees, her warm eyes meeting our sad ones with ‘words’ of comfort. If one of us – including a friend who was like another kid in our family – was gone even one day, coming home was like being greeted by an all-out band as she’d leap over us, literally crying out her joy. And every night, without fail, would find her positioned staring at the front door until my dad walked in, her internal clock telling her it must be soon!
Coming home meant Dusty was waiting… and the moment we raced in from school, hers was the first name we’d call out. So much so, we’d even find ourselves rushing in after vacation to find her, only to realize with a let down that of course she was gone at the vet, until opening time next day. She was a one-home, one-family dog, as she peevishly let us know in no uncertain terms after her rare vet stays, coolly keeping her distance those first days home, as if to scold, “you left me!” But, in true friend style, she couldn’t keep it up… until, as if with amnesia over our petty crime, she remembered only…love.
From a pup, she quickly learned the sounds for things that lit her world like the Fourth of July. Like the scrape of the carrot peeler as my mom prepared dinner. With a sudden bang and a boom from wherever she was, including knocking her head against the frame beneath our beds, Dusty would dash madly for the kitchen to beg a raw carrot, then sit holding her prize straight up between her two front paws as she chomped it down. If she heard any phrase that sounded like “go for a walk” – such as “four o’clock” – it was her signal to tear for her leash. And to never take “no” for our answer.
In nearly every family photo that documents our growing up years…she is there. Sharing times of joy, marking times of tragic loss… I’ll always remember the way my dad’s voice choked as he gently wrapped her spent body in a blanket to carry her out the day she left us…the tears in us all for so many moments blessed with her love. And, like Father Tim in Jan Karon’s books, I remember her “conversations” with us and breathe a bless you… even now.
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Today, I know some good friends are sorrowing over their goodbye to their own family companion. A winsome ball of fluff who spoke the world through his eyes too…as always, gone too soon. (Annie, Jeff, Jonah and Jack…I’m so sorry.) And I think…Bless you for all you gave, too, Knuckles… you were well loved, and loved well. You will be missed…even as you stay in the hearts of those who treasured you best.
One who loves a pure heart and who speaks with grace will have the king for a friend. –Proverbs 22:11
The dog in this episode – a true lookalike to my old dog
On Mon, 11/15/10, mari wrote:
From: Mari
Subject: thank you
To: “pam”
Date: Monday, November 15, 2010, 8:10 PM
i did read your precious dog story and it brought tears to my eyes-not only for the story itself, but the beautiful way you told your story. you are a very talented writer and i wish you much luck and success. you will be in my prayers. hope you have better days ahead.
Haven’t had a dog for a long time, but your story brought back many memories. Made me want to get a dog again…
I know what you mean. It’s been a long, long time…Sometimes I really miss having a dog — but I don’t think I’m up to the maintenance right now… especially with working. They can certainly be amazing in their love. Did you see that true Hallmark TV movie about Hachi, the dog that would not give up waiting for his master for 10 years after the man died?
Pam,
Thank you so much for remembering Mr. Knuckles…He definitely spoke to us with his eyes. You described him so well…He was a true companion! I look forward to following your blog!
You are welcome, Ann… I was thinking about how he was always there with us at our gatherings, greeting us at the door, sitting at our feet, always wanting to be part of things… just like my old dog. That made me want to write something here about him. I know how hard it is to lose them.
Thanks… I wasn’t sure I would have enough to write about regularly on a blog , but God keeps seeming to give me ideas. I’m looking forward to keeping it up and “talking” in comments too…:)
Pam, you absolutely showed us the soul of our companions. This was beautifully written. And I can see why you still dream of her.
Thanks, Diane! Who could forget those eyes and heart?
Such a loving tribute to a dearly loved family companion.
As children, we too loved to have their company. Our grandfather always cared for one at a time. Although here in our country we just opt for the native kinds but nevertheless loved by us as kids.
Yes they really speak the language of the soul in their eyes. I can really tell when they would like to say, “I sympathize” when we are sick and could not run around with them. The the glee and twinkle in them when they meet us from school.
So so poignant.
Yes, so true, Lolita! They say so much with their eyes! I am not familiar with the “native kinds” of dogs you have there, but there is so much beauty and love in these animals. I too, remember her as always wanting to snuggle close when we were feeling sick or down… like she knew it and wanted to comfort. .