12 August 2008
One day my Mom decided that she wanted another dog. She came across an ad in the classifieds indicating that an eight week-old litter of Golden Retriever puppies was for sale. My Mom called the number listed and discovered that there was only one puppy left, the runt of the litter. Mom drove out to Blair, Wisconsin, located the farm on which the puppy spent his first weeks, and proceeded to meet this very energetic, happy, and adorable puppy that would become her friend.
My brother and I were a bit surprised that my Mom had decided to bring home this very, very lively (I am putting this mildly) canine. First of all, we had never had a "boy" dog. And more importantly, this little puppy would require much attention and training. He would need walks and intense ball throwing sessions. He was going to grow to be a 90 pound dog! (He actually grew to be a big, strapping 100 plus pound lad). "What was she thinking?" we wondered.
Mom enrolled our new family member in puppy kindergarten and did her best to play with him as much as she could. She bought him toys of all kinds and provided him special treats. Her health was poor and so often, she did not have the energy to play with him as she so desperately wanted. She did her best to provide for the puppy, despite her physical constraints.
The puppy would prove to be a challenge at times, chewing her treasured Philosophy books, the living room sofa, assorted plants, my new shoes, various squeak toys, and just about everything upon which he laid eyes. He was a puppy, so by definition, very excitable, destructive and at times, seemingly, hyperactive. My brother and I wondered again, "How would Mom raise this puppy? What was she thinking?"
As time went on, the puppy settled down a bit (not for a long, long while, though) and became a wonderful companion to my Mom. He snuggled and cuddled with her as she rested on the sofa. He provided company to her on those days when she felt so sick and so weak, struggling just to walk from her bed to the kitchen. The puppy's constant antics made her laugh. He caused her to smile. She adored him. We all did.
On the morning my Mom died, the puppy lied next to her. She did not pass into this next life alone for she was with this special puppy who was always by her side. My brother and I have expressed much gratitude for this.
I realized this morning that today is this very special dog's birthday.
Happy Birthday, Macintosh! Thank you for being such a wonderful "puppy!"
(We miss you)