If you saw me yesterday, you would have thought my dog had
died, the way I looked.
It’s because my
dog died yesterday.
If you've been to my house and driven up my driveway in the
last 8 months, you've probably seen a little dog come running. And running.
And not stopping. And you've probably slammed on your brakes because he was headed straight towards your
front tire. A dumb dog, I used to
say. Finally a few months back I stopped
hitting the brakes at all. I’d lose site
of him every time he ran at me, but a second later I’d see him running away
from the car. Maybe if I got real close
it would teach him a lesson.
Last summer I opened my front door and there he was. A strange dog with no collar. He was so scared, but he stayed right by the front door. And stayed, and
stayed, and never left. By the end of
the day I had named him Little Rascal and decided we’d keep him if we couldn't find his owners. The next day we let him
outside thinking he would wonder off, but he just never did. I can count
on one hand the times I even saw him cross the street since he adopted us.
He barked a lot, but we called him our guard dog. He chewed stuff up, but most of the time he
just wanted to cuddle with someone. And
he let little Sarah grab his face and never bit. He let Naomi pretend he was her baby. And most of all, he was a companion to our
Lucy.
So yesterday I drove home, came up the driveway, and didn't hit the brakes when he came running at the car; business as usual. He ran away before I stopped, but for some
reason, turned around and came right back.
I should never have waited for him to learn his lesson. (Obviously, Mary) The loss of my little dog is just a hair worse than the guilt I feel. He liked rolling rubber? He liked
the thrill? He thought the tires were bringing him bacon? I don’t know why he ALWAYS chased the front
of my car. But he did, and that was who
he was. So if I wanted to keep him
around, I should have been more careful.
I mean, why risk it?
Love you Rascal.
Rest In Peace.
