Saturday was a difficult day. Much different from that day 16 1/2 years ago when my sister and I browsed the adoption center at the Humane Society in search of dogs to call our own. I picked a sad-looking dog with spots on his tongue. This little black puppy was sitting in his poop and I was just sure no one else would want him. He was a Lab-Shepard mix, clearly looking more like a Lab. Sandy chose his brother...a playful, black, brown and tan puppy resembling a German Shepard. We named them. Mike and I named our dog Dakota, which means "friend". Sandy chose the name Montana.
Later that same year, our family acquired another canine...a short haired Chihuahua-Terrier mix, whom we named Lexi. This dog belonged to my mom. We all lived together but each of us were raising our own dogs.
Through time and circumstance, Mike and I ended up with all three dogs. Phew! It has not been easy. Dakota was very athletic and could effortlessly clear the top of most fences. And all of the dogs loved to "door dash" whenever the opportunity presented itself. I remember them coming home, happily panting after their hour long trek around the neighborhood, smelling like they rolled in dead animal and trash. Baths all around!
Although having three dogs was a bit overwhelming, there were good times. Montana and Dakota could wrestle around in the back yard for hours. Lexi would also join in but was a bit crabbier than the boys and would "punish" them with a scolding bark if they got too rough. When we took Dakota for a walk he would take the leash in his mouth. It looked like he was walking himself. Dakota also had this awesome ability to smell a rock and fetch the same one from under water. That was impressive!
Lexi established herself as the queen. She used to guard the food bowls and would not allow the boys to eat until she was done....well...and even when she was full. When we realized the dog bowls were staying full (and when Dakota and Montana started looking at us as though we were going to be their next meal), we had to intervene. Eventually, they had to eat on separate floors! Otherwise, Dakota and Montana would have starved to death.
Montana, who had a loving but protective nature, was wonderful with children. They could climb on him, pull his ears, tail and hair, but he would never snap. Just a low growl indicating he had enough. He was probably the most loyal of the three and by far, the best behaved! All of the dogs brought so much to our lives...more than we realized or appreciated!
Time passes so quickly, especially for a dog. A couple of years ago, we lost Dakota to cancer. That was hard but we still had a part of him...Montana. The past couple of years have not been good for him. His heart has been strong but his body was not. Most mornings he had difficulty standing and when he did, his back legs would give out. His arthritis must have been painful but he never complained. We knew it was time. Making "the appointment" was hard but walking him into the office on Saturday morning was even more of an emotional challenge.
Mike and I lifted him up on the table and scratched him in all of his favorite places...his ears, his belly, his back...he just laid there waiting. As the medication took effect, we could feel him relax and sensed the release of his soul. I can only pray that there is special place in heaven for dogs and that he is there reunited with his brother.
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