A Tale of Seven Dogs

Ahh dogs. Where would we be without the noble beasts that sleep in our homes and bark at the mailman, the butterfly, the squirrel, a leaf falling from the tree or the wind changing direction or speed?

Timothy had just stepped off the school bus and made it to the gate before Shooter, the family's new golden retriever puppy, came bumbling and tumbling across the yard to meet Timothy. See, Shooter had chosen Timothy. He was the family dog, but secretly, in his heart, he was Timothy's dog. He slept on his bed, curled up next to him on the couch and ran all around the backyard with his best friend, Timothy.

Timothy greeted his best friend with the exuberance it seems only a child could muster.

"Hey Shooter! Did you have a good day while I was at school?!"

The child's question was answered with a hefty helping of licks to the face.

"I missed you too buddy!"

The two walked inside where Timothy's mom, Rhonda, was fixing a snack for her son. A few fish sticks in the microwave and voila! Timothy took the plate and ran to his room to change out of his school clothes. Shooter diligently followed. Timothy set the plate down on his bed and helped the small puppy up as well. Shooter immediately helped himself to a fish stick and Timothy laughed as he moved the plate away.

"Shooter, you're such a silly boy!"

He laughed and rubbed the puppy on his head, making sure to scratch behind his ears. Of course, the scratching behind the ears sent Shooter's rear left leg kicking in overdrive as he entered puppy nirvana!

Timothy scarfed down the other fish sticks and ran outside, again with Shooter following him. On his way out he tripped and accidentally stepped on Shooter's paw. Shooter let out a yelp!

"Oh boy, I'm sorry I didn't mean to, honest, I just tripped buddy."

Timothy knelt down and picked up Shooter, holding him close and stroking the back of his head.

"I promise. I promise I didn't mean it."

Shooter, rebounding the way a child of any species does, immediately gave Timothy licks to the face.

"Oh boy, I'm glad you understand, I love you Shooter, I'd never hurt you on purpose in a million gazillion years."

Shooter nuzzled his nose in the crook of Timothy's arm. He knew.

The two made it outside and ran and ran and ran. Sometimes Timothy chased Shooter, sometimes Shooter chased Timothy.

This practice went on for years. Timothy and Shooter would meet at the front gate, Timothy's mom would make a snack that Timothy would inevitably share with Shooter...she knew all along. Then the two would go outside and play or sit on the couch and watch cartoons.

Timothy and Shooter were GI's on the front line fighting against tyranny. Other times Shooter was a British sea captain bent on capturing Captain Timothy Fish Sticks Morgan! The two made quite the pair. The neighbors all knew them well as Timothy was the sole dog walker of Shooter, he wouldn't let anyone else put the leash on him.

Timothy's parents were concerned with Shooter being left out of the action as Timothy started dating. Shooter wasn't getting younger, as the pup was now 9 years old. But loyal as ever, Timothy had one stipulation for all the girls he dated. Shooter had to come along to give approval.

It was hilarious, a few times Timothy went out with Shooter and the dog just absolutely ignored the young lady. Timothy took that as a sign that she was not to be trusted. The girls showed their true colors though, getting mad that the dog didn't like them and in turn Timothy stopped dating them. Turns out, old Shooter knew what he was about.

Timothy, loyal to a fault, only applied to colleges where he could live at home and stay by the aged Shooter's side. There were still walks, though not as many and not as long. Timothy had to help Shooter up onto the bed sometimes, just like when he was a puppy.

Shooter would curl up at the top of the bed, and place his head on Timothy's left shoulder.

Two years of this passed, Timothy now 19 and Shooter, 13 the two went for a walk one winter's day. Shooter was slower than usual and had a hard time making it up the front steps after the walk was over.

Timothy, after putting up the leash, went to his mom, now crying.

"I don't think Shooter is going to be with us much longer mom."

"Why not?"

"He's been having more and more mobility issues, today he could barely make it up the outside stairs after our walk. We only walked to the park and back, not even a quarter mile."

"Oh, dear. Honey, I'm so sorry."

Timothy, now sobbing.

"I just don't know what I'm going to do without him. He's been there with me for everything. He was at the game where I had 3 sacks, he was in the truck when I had my first kiss. He's the last thing I see before I go to bed and the first thing I see when I wake up. How can this happen? It's not fair."

His mom embraced him close. A giant of a man he'd grown into. Standing 6'3'' and 216 pounds. He was just a shadow of the child he'd been when Shooter first came into their lives.

"Honey, I know you're sad. But, and I'm sorry you have to learn this now, death is a part of life for all of us. You, me, Shooter, one day we will all be gone. What matters though, while we are here, is that we work hard each day to show others that we care about them. Do you think Shooter has had a good life?"

Wiping tears away from his face, Timothy nodded. He couldn't speak.

"Did you care for Shooter? Feed him, pet him, love him, involve him in your life? Did you have special moments? Do you think Shooter feels like he is a valued member of the family?"

Again the young man nodded.

"Then you did your job. Shooter taught you how to be a good man, to care for others, to invite them in. Son, I'm sure you'll have many more dogs throughout your life, and each one of them will somehow, in their own special way, teach you something that you need to know. Shooter did his job. That has got to be the happiest puppy, just look at him."

Timothy turned and looked at Shooter, who despite his pain and age, thumped his tail hard on the floor when he caught Timothy's eyes.

Timothy walked over and laid down on the floor next to his friend.

"You've been a good boy you know? You have. And I'm not going to stop loving you. You're the best boy!" Timothy buried his face in Shooter's heavy coat, crying.

Shooter let out a groan.

"You're right, I should stop crying, we still have today and all the other days."

Shooter again thumped his tail hard on the floor.

"You wanna go watch TV and eat snacks?"

Shooter stood up and, carrying a smile in his eyes, followed Timothy over to the couch where he leapt up, just like he would have done 8 years ago.

The two spent all night watching old silly movies and eating popcorn.

This would become the tradition on Friday nights over the next three months as Shooter's health declined. The two would sit on the couch watching movies and eating popcorn until they both passed out. Faithful as always, Shooter always rested his head on Timothy. It was the best three months.

The day Shooter died was hard. Timothy had taken time to prepare himself for this, but it still hit hard. He took solace in the fact that he and Shooter had been nigh inseparable throughout their lives up to this point. He'd given the dog a great life, full of off leash adventures and late nights and plenty of people food, which Shooter never turned down. Even if it was broccoli.

As bad as it was though, Timothy remembered the words of his mother. Shooter had trained him into a man who genuinely cared about the welfare of others. He was genuinely happy to see his friends and loved ones and never left a place without an encouraging word, to a stranger or to a friend. Timothy had taken Shooter's cues and become a friend that a friend would love to have.