Nugget

The coolest thing my parents ever did was try and run a puppy farm on their couple of acres in South Florida. For many years they were very successful, even while doubling their family size. Out of the four of us kids I was the only one who took to caring for the dogs. The puppies were fun but they were only small for so long and their mysterious departures saddened me over time. It was better to hang out in the kennel with the full-sized dogs. They never left.

They were all golden retrievers. Since my parents are incredibly basic all the dogs were named different golden shades- Amber, Sandy, Copper, Nugget, Ambo, Goldie, etc.. They each respectively lived 13 years of age and would recycle the names. They all had a thick cloth brightly colored collar with their names imprinted on a gold milk bone with my father’s contact info. Nugget's collar was turquoise. He was my favorite dog. We got him when he was one and a half, and he lived with us the rest of his life.

When I was eight, the most dreadful thing to ever happen, happened. I went out to feed the four dogs and only Copper was to be found. I searched the property twice, howling all three of their names over and over. When I approached the southwest corner of the fence my heart sank almost into a hole. A burrowed hole appeared no deeper than one foot . A magenta collar stuck on the bent metal protruding out. Amber's collar.

I ran back to the house as quick as I could and told my mom. As I stated before, raising puppies was the coolest thing my parents have ever done. My dad had a normal job as a businessman, always selling something. My mom raised my siblings and took odd part-time jobs “to have extra money” as she put it.

My dad was away at some convention. She paged his beeper. When he called back an hour later, he said to "call the vet and see if anyone had contacted the office"- I had forgot that their vets name and number was also on the collars. "Then go up and down the street and ask every neighbor."

We lived at least an acre away from any neighbor. Mom would take us trick or treating to the house next door in the station wagon. It took all day- I missed school- to hear over a hundred times "no." No one had seen any of my dogs. No one had contacted the vet either. I held the portable phone next to my side the whole day. I brought Copper in the house. She knew something was wrong. She had never been allowed to be a housedog. Not until today.

Copper, traditionally my mom's dog who never paid me much attention, stayed at my side the whole following day and night too. Her yellow collar bringing me the only sunshine my eyes would allow. Stained red from unrelenting tears, I began to fear the inevitable. What if I never see my pups again. Then after approximately 29 hours from first realizing their disappearance, a black F150 pulled into the driveway. It's a man from a few streets over. He had heard about our breakout and noticed a red golden in his backyard without a collar. He enticed her with jerky and water and believed it one from our flock. I ran outside to his truck. Amber was there relaxed as ever. Even a little smug. I opened the back latch to let her jump out and I swear she strutted with achievement. Copper was still by my side and rubbed her collar onto my leg. I scratched her head and reassured her the others were not far behind.

The night went on. It's Friday so Mom let me stay up late even though she knew I was not sleeping. At 11 that night my father returned from his trip. He hugged my mom, checked in on my sleeping siblings, then came to me. "Copper can't live inside." "I know. She's just lonely. She doesn't like Amber like she loves Sandy and Nugget. I bet it was all Amber's fault." "They're dogs. It's no one's fault. Get some sleep. It will be better in the morning."

It wasn't better in the morning. First thing in the morning the phone rang. I quietly picked up the phone to listen to my dad's conversation. It was a county sheriff officer informing him that an eight-wheeled semi had collided with a dog with a lime green collar with a gold milkbone with his contact info on it. The dog was pronounced dead at the scene. I welped loud enough for them to hear. When they both said “excuse me,” I gently hung the receiver up. A few minutes later, my dad came into the room with his head held solemnly.

He knew I had been listening so he asked simply if I wanted to drive with him to get Sandy's body. I asked if she was going to come home and he said no. That we will take her to our vet where she will be cremated and preserved for us, just as we had done for all our dogs at the time of their demise. I said okay that I would go. I hadn't left the property for over three days at this time. The air on my face from a partially open window while we drove east felt refreshing. My salty tears stuck to my cheeks like a sunburn.

My dad had the grueling task of showing identification over and over to get Sandy’s body. The sympathetic nurse handed me Sandys’s lime green collar lying inconspicuously on the file cabinet behind the office door. While clutching the collar in the waiting room at this different vet office that now felt like our regular vet office, another golden walked in with her three puppies in tow. Probably for their four-week checkup. The puppies all had blue or pink collars while the mom wore a purple one. I started bawling. Not having a tissue I rubbed Sandy's collar all over my face. It was both damp and warm still.

Once back in the car I clutched the lime collar the whole way to our vet. I stayed in the car for this visit, and remained silent for the rest of the ride home. When we got home, I went for a nap. I ended up sleeping through dinner.

The next day was eerie. I woke up as a normal Sunday and prepared the dogs breakfast. I made the usual amount of bowls without thinking. Brought the four bowls all the way to the kennel gate before realizing. Gutted again I left two bowls in the grass. Copper was elated to see me and showed it by slobbering all over my face, almost knocking me over in the process. Amber was still blasé. Like clockwork my chores begin. I gave them their food and watched them eat, changed the water and shoveled the poop. Once poop scouring was finished, I washed their bowls off, jostled Copper’s coat and began exiting the kennel. Before making my way back to the house, I triple checked the latches were locked and fence secured around the perimeter. Defeated, I turned back around because leaving the dog bowls may attract vermin and mom would be livid.

As I got closer to the kennel a shine of aqua hit my line of sight. My heart fluttered. It's the gold plate shining off the turquoise collar. I gulped. Nugget was there, crouched on the ground eating as fast as his mouth could inhale. I began running faster. I never ran but felt myself sprinting. I tripped face first into the other bowl of food. Globs of chopped meats and raw egg were all on my face. Nugget mustered all of his energy and stood up. His front right foot was hurt. He's so dirty. He licked all the food off my face and hair. He wiped me clean with my own tears. He knew. I knew. He's my favorite.