Day 9. We were comrades.

Today I drove over four hours round trip to visit a rescued German Shepherd named King who was surrendered to a no-kill shelter. I just had to meet him face to nose. Maybe he would be the one? My next best buddy. King has a jet black coat and large playful paws and tall ears and brown eager eyes. But he is young. And I tried to walk him on a leash around the property, escorted by a lovely young volunteer named, Andy. But my heart sank. I knew King was not the one for me. I pet his soft fur and coo’d in his ear while he buried his muzzled nose in the snow.

“You are a beautiful boy,” I said. “You will find a beautiful home.”

And then I thanked Andy for taking the time to let me meet King. But it was all too soon. King is not my beloved O. And O is gone. And I realized in trying to bond with this young beautiful pup at the shelter, I was hoping to find O again, and that’s simply not possible.

O is gone.

O is gone.

There’s something distinguished about an older dog. I forgot what it’s like to be around a young dog full of energy. Sometimes when you rescue a dog, it can take up to a year to bond, especially for the dog to feel safe and settle down, to know he is home. A year. That’s how long it took for O and me. It took a lifetime really of he and I getting to know one another, to trust one another, to be comrades. And in our final days together, O sat by my side and napped and stretched and offered his ears for a scratch while I worked and I can ask for no greater gift but the warmth of his quiet gentle love. He gave me everything.

I’m tired tonight. Good night world.


One thought on “Day 9. We were comrades.

  1. Pingback: Day 49. A new arrival. – Monday Morning Ink

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