By Joe Rector
Thursday evening, I took Sadie out for her after-supper constitutional. After she finished her business, I sat on the grass and reeled my dog in. She was ready to go inside and receive her nightly dessert (dog bone), but I needed her to wait just a few minutes. She came to me, and I unhooked her leash. She sat for just a couple of seconds before lying down. For the next few minutes, I gave her the most loving pets that I could and talked to her about the things we’ve done in the yard over the years. Before long, she stood and looked at me as if to let me know that she wanted her dessert. I eventually rose from the ground and hesitantly honored her request.
Tomorrow, I will take my sweet dog to the vet for surgery to remove a cancerous mass. It seems to have been shrinking for the last couple of weeks while we worked to raise her platelet count. I’m not so sure that she can survive the surgery nor the cancer. Of course, Nathan Butler worked one miracle with her several years ago when a grim diagnosis was pronounced. For the last few weeks, Sadie has lost desire to do anything other than lie still on the floor. She’s not even comfortable sitting on my lap or lying on the bed. She much prefers placing her weary body on the cool floor.
Years ago, I wrote about another dog. Snoop was my best buddy for 13 years. However, during the last year of his life, he would aggressively approach anybody. Something in his little Jack Russell mind had gone haywire, and I had to have him put to sleep. On that day, I swore I’d never own another dog. Losing a pet is just too painful. After a while, Amy expressed her desire to have a dog. I knew it wasn’t fair to say “no.”
We began looking at adoptable dogs. We didn’t want a purebred pup. I walked into Amy’s office one evening as she was looking at photos. Immediately, I saw a picture and told her that that dog was the one. We contacted folks about the dog but discovered that she’d been adopted already. I was disappointed because the face of that dog captivated me.
No more than a couple of days later, the people contacted us to tell that the dog had been returned because it had an accident in the house. Amy and I were elated and scheduled a time to meet the pup. A young woman brought the dog to our house, and Sadie never left.
Over the last 11-12 years, Sadie has become our “baby.” This dog has been our savior. When we’ve been sick, she sits with us all the while. Cuddling on the couch has been a nightly ritual, and she has her own place in the bed. When our son Dallas passed, Sadie wrapped her loving personality around us as we grieved. She also welcomed Dallas’ dog Harvey into our home. Not one time has she offered her opinion on a subject, and she never takes sides in arguments. She’s forgiven late feedings, and the dog has given us the cold shoulder when we leave her for long periods for just a little while.
So many people who have met Sadie say she has incredible eyes. Many have called them human eyes that look straight into their souls. I’ve told this dog all of my worries and regrets and shortcomings. She knows that I’m not always nice and that I am forgetful. The amazing thing about her is that she has never held a grudge or thought less of me. When I’ve walked through the door, whether I’ve been outside or gone for a few days, she zooms across the room to give me kisses. She loves pets from everyone, and her tail whirls like a helicopter propeller when she’s excited. Walks are always things that she’s enjoyed, and trips to the dog park excite her. She runs ahead and plays, but Sadie always comes back in a few minutes to make sure I’m still there and am okay.
I dread tomorrow because I know the time for Sadie to leave might have arrived. My heart is breaking, but I know that if I am lucky enough to make it to heaven, Sadie and Snoop will come running to welcome me there. No, I’m not crazy; I believe that God’s heaven is a place where all of the best things in our lives are waiting, and nothing is any better in this life than a dog. I will say a prayer for Sadie tonight and leave the rest of what happens to the Good Lord.
