dogs | Plain Talk and Ordinary Wisdom

Abby with her ball – photo © by Jim Ruppel

Abby was fierce and relentless when it came to her ball, and she kept it within sight at all times. If she saw it out in the yard, she would run full tilt until she almost got to it, then she would pounce on it like she had just caught something that was alive. She was strong and athletic, and entertained us for many hours. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a dog run so hard that she would tire other dogs out when she played with them. It was like she ran circles around them until they finally had to lay down and rest with their tongues hanging out.

When she was younger, that’s the way she played – everything was full blast – head on. We never had a dog this energetic. Even when there was no one to play with, and she was outside, she would stand at the top of our backyard, drop her ball or nudge it with her nose and watch it run down the hill, then chase after it. Our neighbor said she watched her do that over and over again for a long time.

Abby and ball in snow – photo © by Jim Ruppel

I remember when we first got her from the Intermountain Humane Center close to us and brought her home. She was around 6 months old and had been a stray with her sister roaming the streets in southern Colorado and probably not that comfortable being inside of a house. The first thing she did was take off running, which was somewhat difficult as there’s not a lot of room inside to do that. So, she jumped over the back of the couch and found a way to keep going as we stood watching with our mouths open. We had never seen a dog do this before, and when we turned the television on, it freaked her out even more, and she got vocal. It was all so different, and it scared her.

Things settled down quickly after that, and she adjusted to us, her big backyard in the mountains and new home. Her personality came through, and we had fun and loved her more each day. But, unlike the other dogs we’d had in the past, we never got a companion for her. Maybe instinctively, we knew she would be our last dog. It was a different stage in our lives and, with one of us retired, she’d have someone home all the time. It wasn’t long that both of us were retired and home with her. Talk about being doted on and spoiled.

Abby on old doghouse – photo © by Jim Ruppel

Her personality was sweet and she mellowed as time passed and became real gentle and loved people. There was not a child that couldn’t reach out to pet her that she wouldn’t give them a lick. When our youngest grandson was a toddler, he was afraid of larger dogs and when he first came to visit, she came close to him at eye level and he began to shake. She seemed to understand his fear and calmly stood beside him so he could reach out and pet her when he was comfortable.

She did that for a while as that weekend wore on and by the end, when it was time for him to go home, they would walk together side-by-side with our grandson’s hand on her back. He was no longer shaking. And all the other weekends when he would come up to stay after that, he played with her as any child would play with a large dog and never seemed to be scared again

I’m guessing there are a lot of dog owners out there reading this and not only dogs but other pets as well, where you feel that deep, unwavering connection. It’s different than human love, with passion and butterflies. This is unspoken with feeling that is communicated and exchanged other than by words or actions. You don’t even have to be in the same room or see each other to feel the energy of love that connects both of you, and it never wavers.

Abby comfortable in her spot on the couch

Abby on couch – photo © by Jim Ruppel

After almost 15 years on March 18th of this year, Abby left us peacefully and it was hard to say goodbye. But, in my heart, I still feel her energy is with us. How could she totally leave such a dog-perfect place, where she can run freely, lay in the grass, chase squirrels, smell the mountain air, play, eat good food and be loved. Ahhh, that’s got to be heaven on earth, and she was close to it.

Yes, wherever she is on the other side, I feel her presence when we talk about her and mention her name. She hears us and comes running to be as close as she can. We miss her and understand it’s a shift for us, as well, having had dogs together for almost 60 years. My husband has always had a dog in his home as long as he’s been alive, some 81 years, and this change is truly what you call an empty nest not just with children. We feel it differently than when our other animals passed as there’s not their companion left behind and it’s an adjustment.

But that’s the beauty of life when these animals and people come in and out, and we move forward having had the joy and love they’ve given us. I love them and it’s all good, the easy and the hard, and makes me feel a depth in my heart that I would never have felt otherwise without it.

Thank you, Abby, on the other side. Someday, you’ll hear them call our name and come running to greet us, along with all the other critters we’ve had – dogs, cats, horses. Boy, won’t that be a gathering.

Pat from the ‘ol kitchen table

***An added note: Here’s a personal home video of a ride and walk-about around our mountain home that includes Abby and husband, Jim.

Pats Walkabouts – On The Way To Kenosha Pass

For those animal lovers out there, you know how hard it is to say goodbye to a pet. We had to say goodbye to Riley, our beloved best friend and companion this week.

Riley – March 2006 © Jim Ruppel

He was such a trooper through the tests and hand feeding but the stomach cancer had taken too much of a toll on his body.

He came to us 12-1/2 years ago, a black, Labrador-mix pup. He had a little white on his chest and a dab on his front paws – though in later years he had unusual color transformations from black to a perfect white, symmetrical cape on the back of his neck, head and face instead.

It was love at first sight on that first drive home as he laid his head on Jim’s leg. He knew he was in the right place with his new people and we knew from the start this was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime bond. Even as a puppy, we could tell he was a gentle, old soul and there was something magical about him.

We got Riley with the hope he would help our other dog, daughter’s German Shepherd, through a grieving process having lost his companion. It took a little while but they became best buddies and our Shepherd soon became his old self.

As the days and months passed, Riley grew and settled into our routines and life at home. So much so he became a true home body. Though he loved to go for hikes and family outings when he had enough he would let us know it was time to go home by running to the car waiting for us to follow.

He loved our mountain backyard with the space to run and wildlife. Every night he would go out and lay by the back door peacefully looking out over his yard as if in silent communion with the deer and rabbits all cohabiting together. In his later years, my husband would walk him around unleashed from the backyard to the front and, if deer were bedded down, Riley would stay close on command and not attempt to chase though hard at times.

He had a game he played with the chipmunks. When they popped up on a boulder, Riley would chase down the hill as hard as his legs would take him only to lose it up a tree or under another rock.

One day, my husband was out working on a fence while Riley was making his rounds in the yard. A chipmunk popped up and Jim noticed Riley took off after it in a cloud of dust.

Jim continued working and later looked over to check on Riley. There he was just standing wagging his tail but his mouth looked funny.

Jim said to him, “Riley, do you have something in your mouth?” Riley stood and looked a little sheepish this time now wagging his tail a little harder. As Jim walked toward him, he noticed Riley’s mouth bulging on both sides with a slight movement.

Jim said, “Riley? What do you have?” Just then, Riley opened his mouth as if to answer and a chipmunk shot out and up the hill over grass and through the fence. The chipmunk jumped up and down atop a boulder looking back at Jim and Riley chattering away as if scolding them.

Now, as we go through the house, we feel his strong presence as if he left in body but stayed in spirit. We can still see the places where he laid and the toys he brought us for love or to show that he missed us.

We have so many memories of a being that passed through our lives in a special way. He taught us how to be sensitive, intuitive, gentle and kind.

Though we’ve had many pets over the years and have loved them all, there will never be another Riley. We have truly been privileged and blessed he chose us on his life’s journey and will always miss and love him.

Do you have any stories of your beloved pets you’d like to share? I’d love to hear them.

Pat – from the ol’ kitchen table