On Pets
My adult daughter called her mother the other day,
crying, to tell her that her family dog, Taz, had passed away. Later that day I was with my wife and she told me of the sad event. Taz had not been feeling well for several days and that night they had put him in his bed and the next morning they found him dead. We, too, had known Taz for some 12 years, since he was a puppy. As we talked about the event and how bad our daughter’s family felt about it, we, too, commenced to shed tears. Our family has always had pets and with only one or two exceptions they all died of old age. They have been, and are, important members of our family. They each have their own individual personalities, whether the pet be a cat or a dog. Dogs are always affectionate and cats are when they feel like it. They say a family owns a dog but a cat owns a family. I well remember my first dog, I brought a stray mongrel home when I was about eleven years old. I started feeding it scraps from our table and he stayed with me. He was about half grown at the time. It was during my fifth year in school and I remember that the war was still going on. Every once in a while a military convoy would be seen going through the streets of our city. I had a fascination with the Army jeep. I spent a great deal of time in class drawing pictures of jeeps and airplanes. Maybe at this point you can guess what I named my first and very own pet. You are right, his name became ‘Jeep’. Jeep slept on
my bed, ate my food (I don’t believe they even sold dogfood in 1945) and he went every where I went. When school was out Jeep would be waiting for me at the school house door. He would run alongside my bike as I rode all over the neighborhood. He provided a certain amount of humor for me and my friends. One time we were riding our bikes along a tree lined avenue in Spokane, Washington with jeep running along side. It so happened that two men were standing on the side walk talking and Jeep ran up on the sidewalk and stopped where the two men were and lifted his leg on one of the men. We talked and laughed about that for years. Wherever I was, there was Jeep, my constant companion. Jeep had one bad habit that I could never break him of, he loved to chase cars and sometimes bite at their tires if they were going slow enough. I mentally rationalized one time thinking that Jeep may have thought that cars coming toward us on the street may possibly be a threat to me. One day a car came along and true to form Jeep took out
after it, only this time, the thing that I was always afraid of
happened. Jeep was run over and killed. I remember running to the street and picking him up in my arms and with tears streaming down my face I carried him home. I was actually mad at him and I cursed him with every swear word that I could bring to mind. All that I could think of was that he did a stupid thing, now he was dead and he wouldn’t be with me any more. My sorrow could not have been more deep if the dead body in my arms had been my little brother. After all,they were both members of my family. I missed Jeep so much, I missed his licking my face, jumping up on me with muddy paws and being there for me 24-7, as they say today. I missed his being curled up in the bend of my knees as we slept through the night. We were pals, he loved me as only a dog can love and I loved him as only a boy could love. I don’t believe I feel much different about every pet that we have had as a family since that time. When our kids have brought home a new pet I have hesitated letting them keep them. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to start a new relationship with a new pet because I knew how much it hurt when they go away. I don’t believe that our children ever
understood my hesitancy, a hesitancy that was rooted in the loss of a little dog named Jeep.
-Emil