By Cammie Fulk
For animal lovers there is perhaps no greater joy than the joy of bringing a new four-legged baby into your family. The anticipation and preparation is intense.
As I’ve told you in previous months, my family has always had pets, especially dogs. Mostly the dogs were “family” dogs, not belonging to any individual. My mom always considered them Daddy’s dogs or my dogs. She gained her “first puppy” in 2013.
Daddy and Mom rescued a purebred beagle whose only fault was being a beagle and doing what beagles do. During the day his owners would pen him and his other four-legged friend in a fenced in back yard. The yard was shaded, and the dogs had everything they needed. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was Harey was a beagle, and God made beagles to chase and hunt. That’s what Harey did. You see Harey lived in a city. He hunted and chased any squirrel that was unfortunate enough to end up in Harey’s yard. Harey “opened up” when he was hunting. In other words, he barked. He barked at squirrels. He barked at any moving thing including people walking by on the sidewalk outside his fence. When nothing else was moving, he would chase his housemate/yard mate around and around and around the yard, barking the entire time. The neighbors weren’t enjoying Harey’s beautiful voice.
So Harey moved to the country with my mom and dad where he could “open up” any time he wanted. Harey lived with Daddy and Mom for many happy years. Daddy would always let him out and then back in right before he and Mom went to bed. It was during Harey’s life that Daddy’s dementia got worse. There came a point where Harey went to be with other four legged angels and every night Daddy would say, “I gotta go let the dog in.” Mom then would have to tell him that Harey had died. My soft hearted Daddy would mourn each and every night for his dog he lost over and over again. Mom decided to get another dog to help alleviate the problem.
I was assigned the task of finding her a rescue that didn’t have any hound, because hounds love to hunt and once on the track will often ignore all else, including the owner’s call to come back. She also wanted a dog that didn’t make her insurance go up, so no Pit, Rottie, Shepherd, Dobbie, etc. I tried. I really did, but finding a dog in the Shenandoah Valley to rescue that fit those criteria was not only frustrating, but it was also hopeless. So, me being me, I talked her into a labrador. She had been Granny to my babies for years so knew that labs are hard to beat as well-rounded family dogs. I began the hunt for a puppy.
The first week in February 2013, we took a family trip to Raleigh Springs to look at a litter of labs. There in a play area were six yellow lab pups. Mom sat down on the ground in the middle of the pen. As she sat there, she considered each of the pups. It was a fat little red-headed girl that won her heart. She was what some lab folks call a fox red. To me she was a yellow lab with a reddish tint.
I thought Lucy would be a perfect name for a red-headed pup. Mom cancelled that idea and named her Taffy Jo. Taffy soon became a fixture in my parents’ home. She was with my parents wherever they went. She listened fairly well but had some quirks. One of her pet peeves was anything that was out of place. I remember one evening I had not parked the four-wheeler in the garage where it was usually parked. Taffy came and stood in front of me and barked and barked and barked. I got up and went to the door thinking she had to go out. Nope. I got her food. Nope. I stood up, looked at her and asked, “What do you want?”
She surprised me when she went to the back door, barked once and waited for me to open the door. Outside she walked up to the four-wheeler and again barked once. I got on, pulled it into the garage, shut the door and Taff and I went back inside. She went and laid down. Problem solved. Taff had her issues. She loved to run up to the pond and jump in and swim and then come back to the house soaking wet and dripping stinky pond water. She also loved bread, any kind of bread and would table-surf and counter-surf and steal bread any time she could get by with it.
Barking was her biggest flaw. We couldn’t always figure out what she was barking about. It used to drive my daughters nuts! With the help of Molly, the dog trainer, Mom got Taff figured out and learned how to curb her barking. It was one day when Taffy was outside, and my mom was sitting at the table talking to my cousin when they heard Taffy barking nonstop. The barking wasn’t unusual, but the sound of the bark was. If you’re a dog owner, you’ll understand that different barks can mean different things. So, this bark drew Mom’s attention. So, she went to see what Taff was barking at. Mom found her outside beside the garage, and beside her on the ground was Daddy. He had fallen and couldn’t get up. Taffy wouldn’t leave his side.
After my father died, Taffy and Mom became even closer. She was Mom’s “Baby Girl” and best friend. When I stayed with Mom after back surgery, Taff looked out for me. Every morning she’d come back to see if I was up and going and if not, she’d lie on the floor beside the bed and wait for me.
Like all our Best Friends, Taffy was special. She was born 12-12-12. She was 110 pounds of pure love. This past Tuesday, all that love returned to angel form. Mom loved her more than she loved herself and put Taffy first. Due to cancer, Taffy could no longer eat. She could no longer get up and walk around without help. And she could no longer bark.
Surrounded by those who loved her, Taff drew her last peaceful breath. I know there is much debate about dogs and the afterlife, but I believe love like that doesn’t die, and we will be reunited one day.
As Ronnie’s grandfather, Pap Clory once said about a bear hound who was injured in the hunt and his owner was hurting for him, “Well, if you can’t take the pain, you can’t play the game.” But oh, when we play the game, look at the joy we have for the years we have our Best Friends. The pain will fade, but the love never dies.
As always
Stay Paw-astive and Enjoy your Best Friend!
Happy Tails to You!
Cammie
