 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
SUBMIT A SOUND OFF - Click here
Go to Opinion page - Click hereWe can learn valuable
lessons from a canine
Published Saturday, Feb. 7, 2009
Web exclusive Sidetracks by Mark Boehler
I buried my best friend today.
On a friend's farm in rural Alcorn County down a dirt lane, I spotted just the place near a field at the end of a stand of hardwood trees. It was a cold winter day over a cloudless blue sky. The wind seemed to freeze each tear on my cheeks.
It was on this now sacred ground I would return my dog Freckles back to the Earth.
A pet burial is a grief ritual for me. It is an act I must do alone. And in this case my large breed loveable companion the past five years presented quite the challenge to get the job accomplished. Between the anger of a pet lost and thoughts of the wonderful experiences we shared, I chopped with a small ax through sizeable tree roots. And as my rusty shovel hit clay in the depth of the final resting place, my back and arms began to ache.
Emotions can overcome physical limitations. Freckles would have her spot, even if took me all night.
The winds rustled the leaves near where my friend was resting, and the sound was as if she was wagging her tail. I collapsed in the trench, laughing out loud as I wondered if my girl was watching over me to witness yet once again her master was sometimes the hard headed idiot who was about to dig his own final resting place.
I finished my deed, then sat in the nearby leaves to ponder our lives together and regain enough strength to drive back home.
She was the fifth canine burial over the past five decades of my life, but never one so painful as a chapter came to a close in a unique love story. You see, we didn't seek Freckles. She found my wife Dawn and me.
Dirty, starving and abused, she crawled up to us down on her luck. We never let go. As it turned out later, she was pregnant. She delivered nine beautiful pups we gave to good homes.
We cleaned the oil off her back where she had sought refuge under vehicles. We put the broom away, an obvious previous whipping stick. And we stayed away from fireworks, as her previous life had to be full of gunfire.
Freckles turned into a wonderful house dog, potty trained, peaceful yet protective, intelligent yet playful and one to never leave our sides. Our world took a jolt in December with the discovery of a growth in her throat. From there, each step in life's journey became a series of setbacks.
Those fine folks at Corinth Animal Care Center kept us focused on the potential problems, then our experience at Mississippi State University School of Veterinary Medicine - as tragic as the situation became - we knew our Freckles was getting the best care in the country.
Faced with mass cell cancer in her body and a melanoma cancerous tumor in her throat, we made decisions we wanted quality of life with what was left. It would be our last Christmas with Freckles.
Our girl recovered so well from her surgery, but the warnings proved true. Melanoma is the bastard of all cancers and it takes no prisoners, just victims. The growth came back, and with a vengeance. Dr. Doug Locke became more than my vet. He is Doug my friend. He said I would know when the time was upon us.
And I did.
I was not going to let my Freckles suffer. I agonized over the decision, but in the end, it was the best decision I would ever make for her.
Just short of what we think was her sixth birthday, Doug did the humane thing at my request.
The tears poured as never before, but to love is to turn loose the things we hold dear.
All of mankind can learn from the Freckles of the world. She took her lumps, yet never complained.
She greeted all friends and family with a smile, wag of a strong tail and sparkle in her half blue, half brown eyes. She never hurt anything or anybody, yet considered it a couple of times when confronted by a perceived threat. When she played, the 70-pound spotted Australian Sheppard mix played hard.
The game of fetch wasn't over until the ball or flying disc was discovered and returned to the person who tossed it. When she messed up, she would own her act my lowering her ears, thus revealing she knew she was wrong.
Freckles gave nothing but unconditional love to her family.
Humans preach it, yet rarely practice it on a daily basis with not much effort. I didn't deserve Freckles, but she accepted me for who I was.
There are those who say there is no heaven for animals. I believe this pet has gone to a happy hunting ground in a better place, free of pain and room to roam.
I want to believe she is at peace in a heaven somewhere - and in my eyes - a queen on a throne with goose down pillows with an unlimited supply of treats.
I shall miss my beloved Freckles. And I'll never forget the valuable lessons she taught me.
I am a better person for just knowing her.
Mark Boehler served as executive editor of the Daily Corinthian from 1995-2008. Mark can be reached at wmarkboehler@gmail.com.SUBMIT A SOUND OFF - Click here
Go to Opinion page - Click here
