Baby

Growing up I had a love affair with dogs. If it was a fuzzy little puppy with the sweet smell of milk on its breath or a mangy old cur...it mattered not to me. I loved them all. As spaying of dogs was not usually practiced when I was a lad, we had a frequent supply of puppies of all sorts. I usually fell in love with the runt of every litter. I always felt like they needed me. Those helpless little guys made me feel important. So I would come to their rescue...feeding them, bathing them, and holding them until they began to think of me as their momma.

One such squirmy little k-9 I named Baby (truth be told I named nearly a dozen dogs Baby.) It seemed to fit this helpless one to a tee. She had long black fur, dark eyes and a sweet disposition that won me over instantly but did not attract her own mother too much. She would often push Baby away to allow the other pups to nurse and Baby was often heard whining at night because of hunger. Not being able to take it for long I intervened and started feeding her from a bottle with warm cow's milk. Not the best formula for growing puppies but that was all I knew to do.

Things seemed to be improving or so I thought. Her little belly always looked full...big and round. Looked like a perfectly healthy dog to this 10 year old boy. But after a couple of weeks Baby made a turn for the worse and became lethargic and could hardly stand on her feeble little legs. My dad realized she was in serious trouble because she had a bad case of worms. We tried some kind of medicine but we were unable to save her.  

On a cold December night, just after my birthday, she died. My heart was broken. I cried for what seemed like hours...holding her limp body in my hands until I fell asleep. My dad carefully peeled her lifeless body from my hands and wrapped her in a towel and then carried me to my bed and tucked me in. I don't know for sure but I think he cried too.

The next morning I climbed out of bed and ran to the garage where Dad had laid Baby the night before. Dad was standing there. I remember looking up into his blue eyes and tearfully asking. "Will you help me bury my dog?" Lowly he replied, "Boy, you wait right here." He turned and went to his work bench, opened up a tool box, and began to take the tools out of it. He then brought his container over and carefully placed my now stiff puppy in it. He gently closed the lid, stood up, grabbed a shovel, and said, "Come on, son."

After some time of digging in the cold hard ground we had prepared a hole deep enough to keep other animals from becoming grave robbers. I placed the box in my dog's final resting place. Big Jim, as many people called my dad, took my hand and prayed over my dog...and for me. He covered the grave and turned to the garage and slowly walked away...a tear trickled down his cheek.

Later that day when the sun was warming the earth I went out to my dog's grave and smiled. Big Jim had fashioned a cross out of a couple to tree branches and placed it there.

The lessons I learned that winter have stuck with me to this day: Love the unlovely, give time and effort to feed the hungry, death comes to everyone, you can't always stop others from hurting, dads should teach their sons it is okay to cry, weep with those who weep, and a little compassion goes a long way.