I miss my dog.
There’s no use trying to cover it over with platitudes, or trying to force myself to think about something else, I just miss himself, I will be honest.
Whether it’s a good idea or not, I have been going through all our old photo albums looking for pictures of him. In some ways it was good, in that I was reminded of him in younger years when he was so much more active. Every time we took a group picture, he was in it, as he was a cuddle bug, and wanted to be near “the pack”. He was never happier than when we were all in the same room together. When we were in different rooms, he would mosey back and forth checking on everyone.
He preferred his flock all in one spot. Saved him a lot of footwork.
We used to hide his toys in boxes and clothes baskets and under chairs and then tell him to find them. He loved that game. He used to have a little fuzzy lion hand puppet called “Scruffy”. And if you told him to go get Scruffy, he never came back with a ball or some other toy, he brought Scruffy.
I used to keep his leash on a low shelf in the living room and when we were going to go “walkies”….(which we always said in the manner of Mrs. Woodhouse) , I would tell him to “Get your leash” which would send him into paroxysms of barking and running to grab said leash and drag it to wherever I was. It was hard to bark and carry at the same time, so he had to pick it up several times.
We used to “howl” together often. He loved to do that with us. And we have proven to many a guest that we were completely out of our minds, howling like a pack of wolves with Robbie. But we did it because he loved it so much. We didn’t care if we looked like fools, we were playing with Robbie.
My friend S. and I would often walk up at the football field, going around the track several times, and Robbie would amuse himself by playing tag with the swallows that had nests under the eaves of one of the buildings up there. They would swoop low, luring him away from the nesting site, and he would run like he was shot from a cannon. Some evenings he would run until he was completely done in, and had to lay down with his tongue hanging out one side of his mouth while we continued around the track in our lumbering bumbling human way.
Robbie went on many a high mountain adventure when we used to go backpacking. He looked like a prissy town dog, but he loved to go in the mountains and get grubby like the rest of us. One year, Robbie and I convinced a herd of 100 cattle that coming into East Boulder Lake Basin was not a good idea that day. We faced off with the lead cow, I waving my hat in the air and Robbie barking (but never leaving my side) until she turned around and led the noisy smelly crowd into the next gulch.
We didn’t see hide nor hair of them for the three days that we stayed at the lakes.
Robbie grew up in a very small town and I used to take him everywhere with me when I went to town. We went together into every business in town, except the grocery store and restaurants. No one seemed to mind that there was a dog in the video store helping me pick out movies, or waiting in line at the bank. People just sort of made exceptions for him, for not only was he beautiful, but he always behaved like a gentleman.
Anyway, I am recovering slowly. My whole routine during the day reminds me that he is not here, so it’s painful.
I had asked hubby to get rid of Robbie’s leash and collar for me while I was away at my parents burying him. When I got back they were gone, but yesterday in the car, I kept hearing a familiar sound. I looked over to see that he had placed Robbie’s dog tag on his key chain. Wasn’t that a sweet thing to do? We miss him, even stepping over him when he chose to settle right in the middle of the entrance to the kitchen, to make sure he wasn’t missing anything.
I feel like I should apologize for being so maudlin, but frankly, I just have to go through this place so I can come out on the other side.
Thanks for listening to me.
[album 65561 E Boulder.jpg]