Reba Dog

                                 

 

I watched as the 93 year old bent down to pet the white headed lab lying in the pen. The old dog had been watching for “Dad” to come home for some time. Something was wrong.  The once powerful  hind legs could not find the strength to stand. Great effort was made the legs shook with effort the old dog began panting. I could see love in both eyes, the old man and the old dog. Re, as Dad called Reba,  will look right past anyone at her pen gate, and look for only Dad. 

“I guess you might have to take her to the vet and have her put down,” Dad said to me once inside the house. “I just don’t think I can do it myself,” he continued.

A big lump lodged in my chest.  I fight back the tears. I Don’t want to have to do that either. One of us has to as we both are not willing to watch such a great friend and hunting pal suffer so much.
 Dad and I have been away on a week long deer hunt. This is our welcome home greeting when we arrived. The hunt is forgotten, now all my thought s are on this great dog.
 I think back over  the past nine years and the many, many hunts we have been on. I drive into Dad’s drive way to see Re jumping up on the top of her plywood dog house cover and back to the ground. She is so excited to see me and know we are going on another duck hunt.  I park the truck and open the tailgate for my dog, Jasmine, to jump out. Jaz races to Re’s pen and they both get each other hyper  as I go to let Re out. Re races out of the pen, and straight up into the back of the truck. She then jumps back out and races around the yard with Jaz. We get such a kick out of watching them race around before an early morning hunt.
Dad and I walk down the brushy trail, through the trees, to our favorite hunting blind. The two dogs race around, disappearing in the dark for a short while, then come racing back to check on us. Re is very attentive to Dad. If he stumbles and falls in the big heavy waders, Re is right there beside him making sure he gets up. She seems to be out racing around but she is always right there when Dad might be in need.
 Re put her whole heart into retrieving ducks.  She bails out of the blind and launches into the air to hit the cold river water swimming. Jaz  is not so eager. She runs from the blind to the river’s edge and then eases into the water for her swimming retrieves.
Dad would have to tie Re on a rope in the blind as she would power ahead of Jaz and make every retrieve. It was just her nature. She is just such a good hard working dog wanting to please.
On blind retrieves both dogs would disappear into the thick river brush and tulles to seek out a downed duck. Jaz would come back in short while giving up, but not Re. That little yellow lab would keep at it. She would crash and splash and almost always come back, covered in mud, but proudly bearing a duck.
Dad is 93 and to keep in shape takes a early morning walk. He cut across my brother’s yard and into an empty horse pasture. At the gate he gives Re a half a dog treat cookie. He then jogs about 400 yards to some berry bushes and then back to the gate. Re races around like a rocket burning off the nights pent up energy. She chases fox, deer, and any other wild creature that might be lurking around the pasture.
At the gate Dad had the other half a cookie waiting as a bribe to get Re back and headed to home. Re is always right there to get her treat and finish the walk with Dad.
 If  he falls on the jog or walk I’ve always known  Re is right there to make sure he gets up. I wonder who will do that now? 
I now face the task of breaking this great companionship, friendship of an old man and an old dog. My heart is breaking. I am not ashamed of the tears that flow hot down my cheeks. It just seems so unfair that they both can’t just live forever. I know Dogs are short lived pals, but it is never easy to say good by and especially to a really good one.
Good by Re, my friend and hunting partner. May the gentle wind always blow in your face. May you run in fields of warm sunshine forever. May all your rivers be grand to swim in, and ducks catchable.
An old man and myself will really miss you. There will be a huge hole in our hearts each time we pass your pen, or see a green head mallard duck fly past. We will move on. We may own other dogs, but I can assure you none will be like you. You are a once in a lifetime dog.

Re you were the best.