The Summer Dog

Visits To My Grandparents Country House Had A Special Draw For Me . . . ..

I can still see you, Tosca . . .

You lived down the old road, past the lake, but what incredible hearing you had!  All we had to do was go outside and laugh and make a lot of noise and when we looked down the hill towards the mailbox, there you were, a streak of red fur and a laughing tongue racing towards us to knock us over with joy.

Sometimes we wouldn’t even see you coming and you would get in a sneak attack.

You used to scare me a little in those first five minutes of seeing you each time because you would jump on me, but you would calm down quickly.  You were such a gentle dog, the worst you would ever do is knock us over with love.

Smile for the camera, Tosca.

I remember . . .

Biking down the old, bumpy country rode and stopping outside your house.  Your owners would open the screen door and you would race out to run alongside our bikes.

I remember . . .

Sitting in the bow of a rowboat as my Dad rowed my twin and I around the lake.  I would look towards the bank and see you flying through the brush and sunlight, racing our boat, wanting to come out to us.  Sometimes you would jump in and try to swim to us.  When we came up to the dock you raced to the end of the pier.  You shook yourself JUST as we nosed up to you and I got soaked and I was annoyed because I smelled like wet dog.  I would gladly smell like wet dog now.

I remember . . .

A relative brought their Labrador over.  She was hyper and jumped on me a lot and I didn’t like that.  I couldn’t pet you without her coming over, jealous and trying to get her own pats.  I don’t remember you doing that.  You were a gentlemen.

I remember . . .

My twin and I trying to ride on you.  You were smart and just walked out from under us the minute we straddled you.

I remember . . .

Rubbing your tummy until you got dozy.  Then my siblings and I would leap up and start racing around the house.  You would always leap up and chase us and usually beat us – no matter how much of a head start we tried to get!  I remember racing up stone steps and feeling your furry side race past my legs as you raced past me.  I wish I could run up stairs that easily.

I remember . . .

My dad and brother throwing a Frisbee and you were monkey in the middle.

I remember . . .

Eating a lollipop while you watched me with soft, begging eyes.  Nobody was looking so I decided to give you the last lick.  To my horror, you ate half the stick instead.  But the nice thing about having a dog as a friend, you never told on me.

I remember . . .

Visiting the house again when I was much ‘older’, a young teen.  This visit was different.  My siblings and I didn’t go out to play, but I took my young cousin outside to play with him and push him on a swing.  I told him about you and said that if he shouted and laughed, you might come.

A little while later, I looked towards the mail box and you were standing there.  You were old, fat, tired – but you had come.

But this time, I had to run down to you – you were too tired to come up the hill.

It took forever to coax you up the hill, you could barely make it and you didn’t jump on me this time, you couldn’t do much more than wag your tail.  But you still loved me and I could still hug and stroke you.

That was the last time I ever saw you.

We heard later that you had left your home one day and never come back.

And Now I’m Pretending.

I’m pretending that I have my arms around your furry neck and stroking your silky head as we play in a sunshine filled yard.  You are young and sleek and I’m a little girl again.  I’m resting my head on your soft head and thanking you for being such a good friend.

I would love to hug you one more time – but I am so grateful that I ‘had you’ at all.  You were the perfect summer dog.