Over a week ago my dog, Sharmin, disappeared from my friend's farm where she had gone to live six weeks earlier. Fear overwhelmed me at first because she was a very old Golden/Chow mix (14) and very arthritic. But then I realized to the depth of my soul that she had gone off to die, for you see she was a wanderer. My late husband and I had adopted her from the Pound at the age of 1, where she had been brought after a year of wandering on a reservation in New Mexico. Her happiest times in her life were up at our mountain cabin where she was allowed to roam and wander to her heart's content. After my fear subsided, guilt reared its ugly head......guilt that I had abandoned her in her old age. But then I remembered that if she hadn't gone to the farm she would have been stuck in my townhome while I was out of town on an assignment and would have been relegated to two short walks a day and no friendly humans to pet and love on her whenever she wanted (which was another one of her favorite pastimes). So after the rollercoaster of grieving emotions subsided, I found peace in her disappearance (and presumed death) for she went out the way she wanted......she wandered.
As I grieved this week, I kept saying to myself that Sharmin was the best dog I ever had, but as the sadness dissipated, I began to remember all my tail wagging companions and realized Sharmin was but one of a long line of "best" dogs I ever loved. For they all brought something special into my life and their memories will live on in my soul for eternity. So here's to you Captain Watts Cookin' (Cookie for short), the Cocker Spaniel that soaked up the joys of my glorious childhood and the tears of my typical tumultuous adolescence as we wandered through the briar patches at my family's lake cabin. Here's to Alcatraz, my German Shepherd mixed friend whose favorite pastime was catching Frisbees high in the air and who flew on several vacations with me, the longest trip being all the way from Florida to Oregon when I moved to the Pacific Northwest. To Sasquatch, the Labrador mix who swam like a fish and was always game to go camping in the hot, humid hills of Texas. To Leyla, the great drama queen whose Doberman breed terrified strangers even though she was the most gentle, goofy dog I ever knew. It was this crazy dog's inquisitive nature that propelled her head first into a massive snow drift the winter after she relocated with us from Texas to Colorado even though her short fur was little protection from the bitter cold. Last but not least to Sharmie the Wonder Dog, who ran like the wind in the mountains of Colorado and who comforted me during the horrific grief of my husband's death. You have all been my "Best" dogs and because you were in my life I have been blessed with knowing the true meaning of unconditional love. To all of you I say "Thanks for the wags."
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