One Good Dog

I had a great dog onetime, a Dalmatian.  He actually was my daughter's dog.  She got him one Christmas morning and immediately dubbed him Bubba.  We had no idea he would be huge for a Dalmatian and thus deserving of his name.  They were inseparable. 

But then my daughter went away to college.  From that point on, Bubba was mine, heart and soul. 

I've had other dogs.  My first was a Beagle named Bubbles who died too soon after an apparent snake bite.  Then my dad brings home this little dog of mixed breed.  Brown from the tip of her nose to the end of her  tail, we called her, of course, Brownie.

Brownie didn't like people outside the immediate family and I was never even sure about the family but we fed her so she tolerated us.  My friends knew to wait until Brownie was put up before they came into the house.  She was just downright mean.  She lived too long and I left her with my parents when I went away to college.  I didn't miss her.

But Bubba was different.  He was special.  He loved everybody.  We never had to worry about him with other people.  He lived to please.  He might thump you with his tail but that was about it.

And he worshipped me.  When I was gone through the day, he wouldn't eat a thing.  Then, when I pulled in the driveway, he would wait until I opened my truck door, make sure it was me, then head for the food bowl.   When I travelled I would always worry about him.

I would occasionally take him for a ride in my son's jeep.  He would sit like a statue in the front seat.  He enjoyed it so much he wouldn't so much as move a muscle lest I not take him with me.  He wouldn't even move his head, just catching a glance of me by moving only his eyes.   I don't think he loved anything in the world more than that.

Then he got cancer.  When he wouldn't eat bacon (his and my favorite food), I knew it was time.  I cried like a baby when I buried him near my barn. 

So what's this got to do with sports?  I don't know...I figure that if the Westminster Kennel Club show can be featured in the sports pages and shooting birds over a dog is considered a sport then my story of Bubba can fit in there somewhere.

And it doesn't have much of anything to do about injuries.  Bubba was healthy until the end. 

Maybe it has everything to do about living.  I know there are people out there who only get exercise when they walk their dog.  That's OK.  At least they're out there.

For some, I know that it is a cure for loneliness.   Even the unloved can find love in a dog.  A dog loves unconditionally and too few people don't have that in their lives.  Most dogs require very little, just food and a pat on the head.

So if exercise and healthy living add quality to your life, then I think there is room for a dog in there too for a dog surely adds to the quality of our lives.

I miss Bubba but I don't want another dog.  I had one great dog in my lifetime.  I think that's enough.