I’m ALWAYS down for some treats, WOOF! And one of my favorite writers on dogs just happens to be sharing a story about dog love here today. Enjoy, WOOF!

By Ron Hevener

The moon was high … the indigo/night air smelled like water and the air sizzled its arms around you . . . that’s how it felt, as we waited . . . .

She hadn’t been born in our kennel. Unlike the rest of the dogs, she had been an expensive gift to a friend. Already a champion in the fierce and competitive world of dog shows, she was to be the lady’s one-way ticket to dog show stardom. And that’s how it was — until the fateful day when (preparing for a national show) the dog slipped and fell off her grooming table, fracturing a hind leg and ruining her
life as a showgirl forever.

No more was she the National-level champion, excelling in her way of doing, where her flashy markings and athletic ability made her a stand- out. No more would she see other dogs and interesting people on weekends away from home. Ahead, as a brood matron, lay green lawns and fresh bedding in her spacious kennel run. Ahead, lay endless toys and the special treats she liked so much.

As a treasured daughter of one of the finest champions in her breed, only the greatest mates were considered for her. Only the best chances of bringing a new star into the world were attempted. With great anticipation, everyone looked forward to her first litter. It would be great! Surely, there would be a champion among the puppies! Grooms, friends, the veterinarian, and her owner crossed their fingers as wine and caviar flowed through the night.

It was an easy birth. Yes, that it was. As such things go, it was uneventful and without drama. In fact, it was about as “un-anything” as the faces of those who still remember that night … or, have long- since forgotten it. Forgotten, because there was nothing special about her puppies, except that they were puppies. As the years went by, there would be no champions from that litter, or the next, or the next.

And so it was that the once-great dog made her way to a new home. Had she known the story of “Black Beauty,” she might have understood how the lives of horses and dogs, like the men and women who love them, are so very much alike. She might have known that the promise of Life doesn’t always become its reality in the twists and turns of its path. Destiny has a way of sneaking up on us … as we stand like exhibitors before a judge, wondering if a blue ribbon is ever to be ours. And, sometimes, destiny can surprise us.

The brave and loving dog was happy at her new home, though she missed the woman who once played with her, and talked to her, as if she was the greatest thing in the world. She missed those special treats, too.

Day after day … month after month …. through the savage beauty of Autumn, the white and wicked treachery of Winter, and the sigh of relief called Spring, she wondered. Why had the woman given up on her? With Nature’s wisdom, she, herself, hadn’t let go of the hope that, one day, she might create a likeness of herself to carry on into the next generation.

As it always did, the moon rose that night, blowing kisses of silvery light to the house where the gentle dog grew restless. Pacing her whelping box, as if searching for an answer to the greatest mystery of life, she gazed through the shadows around her, and into the depths of her own heart. Remembering other times such as this, she drifted into the waters of herself, understanding the ritual that all mothers have known since the beginning of time. Something would be here, she knew. Something special would be hers tonight.

Dog lovers far and wide know the almost-secret ceremony bonding them to their companions in what some of us call “a puppy watch.” Deep into the early morning hours, our veins surging with strong, black coffee, we laugh and tell stories . . . hoping for the best, but dreading the worst; standing by the great matrons and bloodlines we watch over.

As dawn broke, and rays of the morning sun touched the kitchen where she lay near the stove in her wooden box, the mother dog nuzzled her wobbly puppies. Her keen eyes took in their colors and our smiles as we helped them nurse in the ancient bond of love at its most elemental stage. As we sat there with her, we knew wars had come, and wars had gone. We knew the price of gasoline had risen and it had fallen. Jobs had been created and they had been lost. Presidents, Kings, Princes and Queens of countries, industry and movies had tasted their power and seen their day. But, this dog and her puppies cared nothing about that. Nor, for a few moments, at least, did we.

Patiently, the dog had waited for this. She had waited to be the mother of one whose spirit, like her own, was proud and dancing and free. Faithfully, she had waited to give the world another champion as great as she, herself, had once been.

As the mirror of Life reflected a little princess by her side, and barn swallows heralded the birth, the dog’s ears perked up. There was a familiar knock at the door. Someone was knocking urgently at the gate of her life. Open up! Let me in! I must see!

Did she recognize those footsteps? Did she remember the voice calling out her name as if she was the greatest treasure in the world? If she did, she never let us know. For just an instant, she held out; dangling the heart of one who came to her now …. commanding the marionette strings in a delicious switch of mastery.

What took her so long? - the dog must have been thinking. Look at her crooning and fussing over my special puppies. I should never forgive her for giving up on me, and letting me go. I should not love her. But, after all this time, she thought, as her tail began wagging, how could I not love the one who brings me . . . such delicious treats and memories.

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Submitted by Ron Hevener’s Publicist
www.RonHevener.com

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Have a pawsitively tail waggin’, treats and memories day, WOOF!

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