Red showed up in the spring of ’06, a full grown, wiener dog and something mix. He made himself right at home and quickly adopted Eli as his own personal human. Together, they shared countless adventures, slaying dragons, dinosaurs, and boredom. The kids had a series of forts on the farm where, with their dogs, they conquered childhood. They played and imagined while the faithful dogs kept watch. Red killed snakes, chased off skunks and badgers, and would not have flinched if a dragon would have threatened his charge.
It wasn’t all fun and games. He also fancied himself a cow dog. More than once he got yelled at for healing cows the wrong direction or standing under the trailer, biting them as they loaded. He certainly felt he was indispensable, checking cows from the front seat of the pickup, head out the window, ears flowing back in airplane mode.
Those little legs covered a lot of miles. He trained for several marathons and countless halves, 10Ks and 5Ks. Only as the gray started to take over did he run the first half mile, then turn back and happily meet us at the mailbox when we finished our run.
When Eli went to basic training, Red would lie in the living room, head on his paws, looking wistfully into his master’s empty room. He had protected his boy from ‘dad attacks’ and the bogey man for years inside that room. When Eli was sick, Red comforted him. When he read, or played guitar, Red curled up and simply enjoyed his company.
Red was a funny, crazy, yappy, faithful hound dog. He struck the doggy lotto when he showed up all those years ago. He was always a bright eyed bouncy dog until the last couple days. It was hard (and it is with every dog) burying him today. I faced him east toward the sunrise and put his ears in airplane mode. Strange, how tears flow hot and unchecked for a little animal that becomes such a big part of life.
Farmer Dan's Food For Thought 