(I promised to share this story sometime and it seemed the right time now. It was first published in The Dog Next Door: And Other Stories of the Dogs We Love by Callie Smith Grant.)
I was nine when I got the dog hunger. I wanted a dog with every inch of my fiber. So much that I would have traded Christmas presents for the next five years, maybe even longer, if I could just have a dog. I don’t know whether a person is wired from day one to be a dog person or not, but if they are, I was. It wasn’t that I didn’t have plenty of animals I could call pets on our farm. We had calves and lambs we bottle-fed and a barn crawling with cats. I loved my woolly lambs and the kittens, but I wanted a dog. A tail wagging, furry, wet nose in your face dog.
We’d had a dog, a big old hound we called Pup. When I was about six, he didn’t come home one day. We hunted him, but it was months before we found out he’d gotten hung in a fence and died. He was a nice dog, but he was never my dog. You dog lovers out there know what I mean. And maybe I was too young for the dog hunger then.
I don’t know why we didn’t get another dog right away. Maybe my dad thought dogs were too much trouble, especially when they disappeared and made everybody sad. Anyway, I wasn’t making any headway with him begging for a dog, but I kept asking. Years later when I wrote Scent of Lilacs, my young character, Jocie, says a dog prayer since she has the dog hunger like I did. That surely came straight from my memory.
So after a few weeks of wishing and begging and praying, a dog showed up. Out of nowhere. A beautiful black cocker spaniel that was my dog at first sight. Only trouble was, my dad couldn’t see that. He said cockers weren’t good farm dogs and so we couldn’t keep him. But I loved that little dog so desperately my aunt took pity on me and gave him a home. I named him Inky. It fit and he fit in my heart. Perfectly. My aunt and granddad lived about a mile from us, and every day all through that summer I took the shortcut through the fields over to their house to sit on the porch with my elderly granddad while Inky laid his head in my lap. I stroked his soft curly hair and was in love. My dog hunger was satisfied, and I was happy. Very happy.
Alas, the course of true love never runs smooth. One day late in that summer, my aunt and I came home from town to find at least a dozen dead hens scattered around the yard. Inky was hiding in the woodhouse under a bench. He knew he’d done a bad thing. I knew he’d done a bad thing. He was a chicken killer. That’s probably why somebody had dropped him on the road by our farm to begin with. My aunt loved me without reservation, but no farmwoman could keep a chicken-killing dog. We needed eggs for breakfast. I didn’t care about the chickens or the eggs, but I understood that Inky’s days were numbered in my life. They didn’t shoot him. Probably because that would have shattered my heart. Instead my aunt tied him to the clothesline and found him a home with someone who didn’t own chickens. And I lost my first love.
But the story doesn’t end there. After Inky, my dad relented and let me have a dog. Ollie was part Spitz and part Collie and I loved him as much as I’d loved Inky. Still he wasn’t a cocker spaniel. Forever, after Inky, cocker spaniels were my dream dogs. But cocker spaniels didn’t normally appear out of nowhere. They had to be bought. Something we never did when we wanted a dog. Something we couldn’t afford to do after I married and had three kids. There wasn’t money to buy a dog. When we wanted a dog we found somebody trying to get rid of pups and whatever kind they were, we took one and brought it home. But my husband knew how much I loved cocker spaniels and because of how much he loved me, one year he sold his treasured high school class ring and bought me a cocker spaniel pup as a surprise for my birthday.
Three days before my birthday, my sister-in-law was killed in a freak auto accident. A friend was driving her to the doctor since she was only days, perhaps hours from delivering her first baby boy. She and my husband’s brother had three daughters already. The tailgate broke off a cattle trailer and crashed through the windshield of a pickup truck, instantly killing the driver whose wife, I found out later, was also about ready to have their baby. That truck crossed over into the path of the truck Joy’s friend was driving. Joy was thrown out of her seat and under the dashboard. This was before seatbelts were in common use. The friend was not hurt, but Joy and her unborn baby boy died.
After that kind of tragedy, a birthday seems to be something to pass over, to not notice for this one year. How can you celebrate life when all you can think about is what death has stolen from your family? But my husband had already bought the puppy, and he brought him home to surprise me on my birthday in spite of the sadness that soaked clear through to my soul. Barely bigger than my hand, Jody followed me everywhere I went and lay on top one of my feet whenever I was cooking or washing dishes. He was my dog at first sight.
The sadness and grief didn’t go away because I had a puppy. I missed Joy and mourned the lost promise of the baby boy who never had the chance to draw breath. I was sad for her daughters who would grow up without their mother’s loving presence. I grieved for Joy who would not see those girls become young women and marry and have babies of their own. But a puppy can lick away a lot of tears and make you smile in spite of your sorrows.
My husband didn’t know such sorrows were waiting in the wings when he sacrificed something he treasured to give me a wiggling, yipping, wet nose in my face puppy. He just wanted to give me a gift of love. And he did.
I hope you enjoyed my story. Have you ever been given a gift of love?
Comments 16
Awe, what a sweet story. I’ve never heard the story of Jody, but I always knew what a dog lover you are. And that is why I knew you were the best home for Marley. What lucky dogs he and Frankie are. And you are so blessed to have such a loving and thoughtful husband. I miss you all so much. Thanks for sharing that awesome story.
Author
Glad you enjoyed the story, Ronda. Marley is my buddy now. I’m hoping his incision will heal quickly. One thing that surprised me is how careful Frankie has been around him. Those two are really pals.
That was a sad but loving memory and you have so many of those . Even the books you write just pull you in but those aren’t true. Wow I have never been given the gift of love although I think when I called my grandma and told her there was no foster home and that she would have to come and get us was a gift of love. Getting to live with her off and on was just so comforting and especially since she helped me so much with my kids when I worked. She was a blessing I had and really have a hole in my heart as every night at 8 I want to pick up the phone but even if i do there would be no answer. I just want to tell her that I loved her so much for never forgetting about me in the foster home she would call or write when she could of vanished like everyone else did.
Author
Definitely your grandmother was a gift of love to you, Peggy. I feel sure she wished she could do more for you when you were young and struggling in those foster homes. So sweet that you called her every night at 8 o’clock. I’m guessing she was sitting by the phone waiting to hear from you. And now she’s watching over you from heaven.
Ohhh, Ann….what a sad story! I can’t wrap my mind around such a tragic loss. I couldn’t respond until now, and I’m still at a loss for words. I hope the years have softened it for you all.
My best gift of love that comes to mind is fuzzy socks from my sweet aunt several years ago. She always gave me a few pair as Christmas gifts because she knows how much I hate shoes, but my feet get cold in winter. One time she came to visit and I was wearing them wrong side out. She wondered why. I told her that there were loose strings (from the 2 different color yarns) on the inside and my toes kept getting snagged in the yarn. The next time she visited, she brought me more socks. She had lovingly tied off ALL the loose yarn on the insides and snipped the ends so they wouldn’t snag my toes. It probably took her a couple of hours to make a $1 pair of fuzzy socks comfortable!
Thanks for sharing another dog story. I love cocker spaniels too. My mom raised them when I was a teen. They’re my favorite breed after the Heinz 57 variety.
Author
What a super sweet story of how much your aunt wanted to give you something nice, Lavon. Sometimes what seems like a little thing can make us feel loved.
The story was sad. For years I couldn’t pass that spot on the road without thinking of the tragedy, but time does dull some aches. And for me, although I loved Joy, the pain wasn’t as deep as it was for my brother-in-law and his girls. He said that was the hardest thing he ever had to do – tell his girls their mother wasn’t coming home. It was one of those times when they were so joyfully looking forward to a new baby in the family and then the world crashed around them. Darrell’s family has had several of those sudden tragedies. His brother was killed in a tractor accident and we lost one of his nephews in a traffic accident years after Joy was killed. His family are all strong Christians and they leaned on their trust in the Lord through those hard times.
I am glad you have a great love for dogs. I grew up in a rural area of PA. My older brothers had a dog, but it was not an indoor dog. My Dad had a doghouse for the dog and I never knew the dog or his name. My son and his wife and girls have a daschund/beagle mix dog. He was rescued from being abandoned. They love him so much and I like him. I just never got close to dogs, but glad there are people like you that do.
Author
Sounds like your son and his family are some of those dog lovers too, Linda. Not everybody has the same likes and not everyone can be a dog lover. We still laugh at the memory of my mother-in-law always saying that she loved dogs, but if a dog got too close to her, she’d swat him away with her purse. She loved dogs at a distance. LOL.
What a sad, but at the same time, beautiful story Is it true? The telling of it makes one think it is. We evacuated for the last two named storms to our son’s house North if us. They have a beautiful, blonde cocker spaniel. A lovely and loving dog. Made me want another dog! I noticed that Laura cane through Kentucky. Did you get much rain? God bless and keep you and your family safe.
Author
A couple of inches of rain, Karen, but nothing quite as bad as they had forecast. Hope all your and yours property rode out the hurricane without incident.
Yes, the story is all true. Not enhanced or added to in any way.
My Jody was a blonde cocker but different from most even though he was registered and full bred. He was a little bigger than most cockers and lacked most of the feathering on his legs. That was good since he was a farm dog and less fur made for fewer places sticktights could ride home with him. He was a very good dog and I hated when he got old and passed on. Nothing like a cocker spaniel to make you feel loved.
So very sad, but with a positive outcome. Thank you for sharing. A couple of inches of rain is all we got from Laura and that was Thursday night after landfall on Wednesday. Glad that you got no more than a little rain. That storm just wouldn’t give up. 🙄
Such a sweet story of love and loss! Thanks for sharing.
Author
Glad you liked reading it, Suzanne.
Well I’m crying.
My husband got me a 1950’s yellow Formica table and chairs a few years ago because I had wanted one so long.He surprised me with it.He has gotten me many gifts of love but this one was no special occasion except that he loves me and wanted me to have it.
Author
A husband who loves you and wants to find ways to make you happy is a blessing, Lisa. So sweet. And my story was a sad one. Still sad these many years later but life continued on. The girls did desperately miss their mother, but they never missed having love. My brother-in-law remarried and added a couple more daughters to his family. The girls grew up and had those babies of their own and I see their mother in all of them. Joy would have been so proud of them.
Awe…yes life throws curves that you never really get over but as you say life continues on. I’m glad the girls have a good life. Thank you for that story and for letting me know how they are now.
I hope you and yours are doing well.