The Joy of a Dog

During the winter of 2004/2005, my sister Kelly bought a small puppy for my father. The puppy was to replace a stray that had wandered onto my parents farm and made a home for itself on the farm and in their hearts. Jack was a terrier mix and loved dad...he wanted to be with dad all the time. Tragically he was killed Thanksgiving night as he darted into the road and was killed.

It hit everyone hard. Kelly was moved to buy this puppy and named her Brooxie (or my preferred spelling...Brooksie). From Kelly in Ohio, to Kim in North Carolina, finally to Virginia. She was nervous nondescript dog but she had a personality. I was determined to not get attached to her as I hate losing an animal. She loves to go outside, walk and wander on the farm. Mom and Dad both could not exercise her as much as she would like. So it became my chore at home to take her out walking when I was there. Except, it wasnt a chore.

I cant recall exactly how or when the bond began...but it did. We became friends, buddies. The highlight of my week became my weekend when I would go home and see Brooksie. Likewise her highlight was my coming home. She would get excited when she knew I was coming home, when I got there. She would dance, run, grin, kiss, you could feel her little heart race with joy. During the week, she'd sleep where she could keep an eye on mom and dad. But on the weekend, she'd stay with me curled up at my feet.

She would not go for a walk to the old house if mom and dad where not with her as she did not want to have them out of her sight. For me tho...she'd head straight for it as the fields, ponds became her favorite playground.

We enjoyed each others company. During those walks, the terrier in her would come out and she would literally spend hours digging, tracking, exploring. Sometimes she'd run to me, tap me on the leg and dart away telling me "Come this way." Othertimes she'd run, jump on me and just stand there...looking in my face. It was like she was saying you are my friend and thank you for being with me.

When the time comes for me to leave and return to my home, I tell her goodbye. You can see her become still and see a bit of joy and life leave her. She knows what my goodbye means. But she also knows I will be back and will share more time with her.

Its hard to exactly describe the bond. Many times you here the saying a dog is man's best friend. Until Brooksie, I never really bought into that, but Brooksie changed it. She got me outside, walking, caring and spending time with a dear friend.

She will be 5 this September. Already you can see where she is slowing a bit for arthritis, but her heart is still young and strong. Hopefully she will be there on the farm waiting for me when I retire. She is my friend...a good, true and faithful friend.