remembering Sandy the dog

From people who know me and people who have read my blogs, many would think that I am a cat-only person or that I am somehow anti-dog. Which is definitely not the case, and I will explain why.

Growing up when I was about 2 years old, me and my older sister (by about 1-1/2 years) each got a kitten. My sister named her little grey tiger Daisey and I named my orange tiger Whiskers. Over the next few years my cat later became sick and had to be put to sleep. So we were left with Daisey as the family cat. As we got older, someone living over near to where my grandparents' farm was in the next town over was looking to give a dog away. It was something that we decided could fit into the family scenario, so we got the black lab. While me, my sister, mom and dad were all happy to have her, Daisey the family cat was not as much willing to share in this creature's presence. Thus she resorted to spending as little time as possible where we were living, and began to take up residence across the road at the neighbor's house. Luckily they were friends of the family, and their daughter was actually best friends with my sister.

While the black lab was otherwise a terrific dog to have and me and my sister really enjoyed having her, she was a lot to handle. Breaking loose from her tie and leash outside and wandering around off the property. It soon got to the point where we didn't feel that she was going to be a dog that we could handle and take care of. One day my dad got up and took the dog away and came back empty handed. Me and my sister didn't quite understand this and became very upset. It wasn't until we grew older that we began to understand why our parents had to give her up and that my dad actually took her to a married couple that lived in the area. Much to my surprise it was going to live with a young woman who was a classmate of mine - and someone that I had a big crush on through most of our K-12 education years. So I knew she (the dog) would be in good hands. And I was able to hear further stories of what a terrific dog she was, including driving by their place on my way out to the other town. As a side note, Daisey returned home when she realized that that big black dog was no longer living with us and she felt safe to be around.

Family circumstances changed when my parents became divorced, and me and my sister remained living with our mom while dad moved out to live in town. As a present for me and my sister, he got us a puppy. Unfortunately because it was not something that could live with us at our mom's, the dog was going to live with dad and we could see it whenever we visited and spent time with dad.

Sandy was a golden retriever and was a terrific dog. I still remember when Sandy was just a little tiny puppy that dad had a box that was made into a bed for her, and as she got older and grew it was funny to look at this little tiny box that she used to fit in as a puppy. Further family changes were made when my mom remarried, and we moved from where we had been living to a different town nearby. After a bit of preparation, dad built a small house for himself where we had been living (as mom, the stepdad, me and my sister moved with the trailer that we had been living in). As it was, the lot of land was part of the family farm that my dad and grandfather were involved in, so my grandparents were less than a quarter mile down the road in the farm house.

Sandy was technically me and my sister's dog, and while she was living with dad, she spent most of her time down the road at our grandparents. Dad would be off to work, so Sandy would spend time down where the grandparents were home most of the day as they didn't work. I would get to see her whenever I was out there to visit my grandparents and dad. And also to watch my grandparents' satellite TV that my dad got for them when my grandfather became ill with cancer.

One night I was out to their house watching wrestling on television and eating a pizza. I really, really did love Sandy, and I tried to get her to understand the idea of not begging for food when people were eating. So as I was eating my pizza, she kept hanging around me as I sat on the couch wanting a handout. I will foreever regret the moment that I was becoming frusted that I turned to her sitting there and almost yelled at her to go away as I was eating, and to go lay out on the porch area where her nighttime sleeping place was. She tucked her tail under her and wandered out to the porch. For the rest of the night while I watched wrestling it was in silence. As I got ready to leave and drive back home, I walked out on the porch and looked over at Sandy. She laid down and only looked up with her eyes at me. Because this all took place several years ago - circa 1995 or 1996 - I can't remember many of the details as it was one of those tragic moments that happen in a person's life that you end up trying to push out of your mind and forget. I may have went over and patted Sandy's head, or I may not have. I may have just stood there before walking out, or I may have said something like "Sorry for yelling" or "you just gotta not beg, Sandy". Whether I made ammends with Sandy before I left for yelling or not, I can not remember to this day. What happened afterward is what has remained in my mind since then and will for the rest of my life.

It may not have been the next day, but it happened at least before the next day that I was going to go out to the farm to visit the grandparents, visit dad, watch tv and/or play with Sandy. I was at home where me and my sister were still living with mom and the step-dad. Dad called one day when I was home alone and gave me terrible news. He wasn't home, but the grandparents were. Sandy must have been walking between dad's house and the grandparents' farmhouse and she wasn't being too careful about walking along side the road. A car came along and Sandy got in the way and...... From what my dad said, the lady stopped by and asked if the dog belonged to my grandparents. From what he said, the lady gave no indication of sympathy or concern for having stuck and hit the dog. She was concerned about who was going to take care of the dent in her car.

I was terribly saddened by the news of what happened to Sandy, and was incensed and struck by the blatant lack of respect and compassion from this lady who had struck and killed our dog with her car. And she was concerned about getting her car fixed????

I know that she did and someone else might suggest why wasn't Sandy tied up to begin with. Living in the city, in town, there are logical rules for having a dog that is outside tied up so it doesn't run away, get into traffic, or get into your neighbor's yard. Even just on the outskirts going out of town, that still makes sense because there is a lot of traffic entering and leaving the city. But until you live out in the country - and I do mean out in the country - you learn that many of the rules and laws that exist are bent and not always followed. If I lived in town where the population is crowded, sure the dog would have been tied up or kept inside. But living out in the country where there are few cars far and between, and at some points no neighbors or houses for miles, then it's just a way of life for people to do things the way they do. So the argument about having the dog tied up is beyond acknowledgement or even consideration.

When my sister returned home that day, I had the sad duty of telling her what happened. I had only gotten as far as to say that dad called..... Sandy was out in the road.... a car came along, and .... before I could say any more, she could tell by the tears coming down my face what the bottom line was and she broke down.

For the next week or so I went out and visited the spot were dad had burried her. It's been nearly 12 or 13 years, but I still think of Sandy in the same way. I know that I could not have taken back the incident of the car hitting her and killing her instantly. There is no way that I could have known that it was going to happen, and no one could have predicted it. But what has haunted me since then is the way things were left. The very last time that I ever saw Sandy it involved me yelling at her for begging for a piece of my piece of pizza. The last time that as it turned out I would have seen her it was watching her walk off feeling ashamed that her owner yelled at her and then laying down on her blanket feeling like she wasn't a good dog.

It can be the way that life was meant to go. But if I could go back in time, I would have at the least not yelled at her and made sure to have left that night on a better note.

The whole thing has helped me try to become the pet owner that I am today. Things can happen day to day, and can change in an instant. I could leave and come home and one of my pets could have died while I was away. This is something that can happen to anyone at any time for any reason.

I'll admit it: my cats can annoy me quite often. They get into things they shouldn't, they knock over stuff and they break stuff. Track litter across the floor, beg for my food when I eat, and they pester me until I fill up their dishes with their own food when they become empty. Sometimes I may find myself asking them "what are you thinking?!?" or "hey ____, don't be such an ass!" when one cat may be picking on or fighting with one of the other cats. The idea of Sandy and how things were left have forever been implanted in my mind and in my heart. My cats may do things to upset me or bother me, but I don't leave things like that. Ever. If I am leaving to go somewhere, before bedtime at night, or even simply if I am not leaving or going to bed, I will quickly make ammends by picking up the cat, cuddling with it, holding it, and go crazy giving it kisses and dancing around until the cat itself wants to be put down.

My cats themselves may think that I get angry at them at times when they do crazy things and that sometimes that I get really upset with them. But I never want them to be left with that impression and even if I discipline them, I try to leave them with the idea that they are still good cats and that I love them dearly.

Because you never know what can happen. When something can be taken away from you in an instant without warning. Something you love dearly can be taken away from you and it could be life's plan on how it is meant to go. Thus it turns into the idea of how you want things to be remembered and how they are left.

Yelling at Sandy the last time that I saw her has forever and will forever haunt me. But it's helping me to become a better pet owner that I am today.

RIP Sandy.