There! She Comes!
Hey everypawdy, I’m a new voice here fur most of you… I’m Bob, Bob the Dog. I was the dog before Maxx, and before Buddy. I was the original dog. I was the FURst dog, the one who started it all, who let Mom know that she was a DOG person. Oh she wasn’t so sure at first, she had only had cats before. Pfffffft! She thought I was a lot of responsibility. I ask you, who could resist this face???
So I stayed. Mom and Dad adopted me after seeing my sisfur, Schafer one day. We all lived in Montana and Schafer’s name was short for a beautiful place called Schafer Meadows in a very special place that I was then named after. You see my full name was: Bob Marshall Wilderness Dog, but everyone just called me “Bob.” We all lived in Whitefish, MT which was an extraordinary place to live for a dog. I taught Mom how to “be the dog!” Schafer, of course, helped…
Mom would drop me off at Schafer’s house on the way into town and we would play and gnarl and carry on in her yard. It was great to get to see my sister again even though we lived apart. Our necks were always wet. Schafer taught me how to climb up on the big wood pile her Dad built up for the long winters in the back yard so we could get over the fence and I taught her how to run a-mutt through the neighborhood and not get caught. We laughed and laughed as Mom would run behind us yelling her fool head off, but we had 8 legs between us and she only had 2 and she was just outrun BOL. We always headed back when we were ready. Or how about the time Mom was driving down Wisconsin Avenue right after Shafer had moved to her new house up the hill? Well, it seems Shafer must have wanted to go visit the old house because there, sashaying down Wisconsin (covered in mud I might add) was my sister with a little purpose. Mom pulled over and invited Schafer to get in the car. She was happy to do so as it had been a long walk, then realized she was a bit muddy so shook good. She was a polite one, that girl! The best part was that we looked so much alike that when I got stopped up on Big Mountain where I lived for being off-leash and they would complain to my parents, they would say it must have been Schafer because nobody was gonna argue with the guy who had just won the first World Cup for America in Tele Skiing!!! I got away with a lot using that one!!
Well, the reason you haven’t heard from me much here is because my life was cut very short. I went on ahead to the bridge when I was 8 years old. I was out on one of my epic adventures on the mountain one day and just collapsed. Seems I had a tumor on my heart that nobody saw coming. Hemangiosarcoma ended my life within 3 days. Schafer? Schafer carried on in rare form for me though. She had an amazing family and even got a new brother and a sister (furless) and they did everything together! They camped and they have a cool lodge where she ran the trails and cross-country skied and defined “being the dog.” She did me proud. She LOVED mud puddles and sticks and balls and carried on the legacy perfectly. I thought it would never end the way she carried on… but alas, at 14 Schafer is ready to join me. Her family loves her so, they know that she can no longer “be the dog” the way she deserves, so they are going to release her to come back and play with me again. I feel bad for them, for I know they will miss her. I saw how much my family missed (and still misses) me. But truly, this is such an amazing place… she will run like crazy again and we will be like pups and I am truly quite excited. I saw this parable on the wall up here, it made sense. It was found on the body of an American Jewish soldier, but I think it works for any soul in transition…
“I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails in the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength and I watch her until at length she is only a ribbon of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle whith each other. Then someone at my side says, ‘There! She’s gone!’ Gone where? Gone from my sight – that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and span as when she left my side, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminshed size is in me, not her, and just at the moment when someone at my side says, ‘There, she’s gone!’ there are other voices ready to take up the glad shout, ‘There! She comes!’ And that is dying.
And so, I am gathering my most treasured sticks and balls (the ones that are kinda muddy and slobbery) and rushing right to the edge of the bridge. I want to take her paw immediately and be the first thing my sister sees. I have waited for her for 6 years now, and I’m so very excited to see her again. I will take the very best care of her, and there will be great joy in the Heavens!!