Dixie entered my life in 2001. The story goes that a friend of the family had a dog they could no longer take care of and would we consider adopting her. At the time, another dog was the last thing my wife and I needed, but she was brought over to “see if we all would get along”. I came home that day to see something sitting in the backyard, looking at me through the glass door. I stood and stared at what can only be described as a black bean bag chair with legs. Apparently, the previous owner wasn’t in the habit of walking this dog and or feeding her sensible portions. This was the fattest dog I had ever seen. I opened the door and slowly approached her, just to see how she would react. And how did this over stuffed black hefty bag react to her potential new owner? She sat there, looked me in the eye and growled. I knew I was in no real danger since an actual lunge from her would be a half day event, but I did like the attitude. I walked back in the house, dialed my wife at work. “Well?” she asked. “All right” I said, “We can keep her”.
My first task with Dixie was to trim the weight. I remember the first time I put a leash on her and set off down the street on the first of our many walks. People in the neighborhood would actually stop what they were doing and watch as this guy appeared to be walking a Black Angus cow to market. The first hill we encountered, Dixie walked about half way up, stopped and sat down in the middle of the street, refusing to go any further. Day after day we tried until finally she could reach the top of the hill and so we tried another hill and then another until gradually the pounds went away as the walks became longer and longer. Over the next few years, it didn’t matter if I was inside the house or doing something outside, Dixie was always there with me.
Of course, this all changed when I moved out, but I tried to stop by as much as I could. As I walked up the sidewalk, I could see her nose pressed against the window, and then the tail would begin to wag as she recognized the person approaching the front door. Gradually, she began to slow as the hips began to wear down, no doubt damaged from early obesity. The younger dogs would go on the longer walks while Dixie was content with the shorter, slower, “stop and sniff’ type of strolls. Then one day, after a routine checkup at the vet’s office, Dixie was diagnosed with an aggressive form of bone cancer.
On September 19th at approximately 11:30 a.m., Dixie lost her battle with cancer. That morning I went out to the back yard with her for a few minutes. I sat down on the cool morning grass and she lay beside me and we just enjoyed this final time together. Then, we put Dixie in the back seat and the three of us took that long ride to the vet’s office.
I’ve always said that dogs will give you all the love in their heart, only to break yours when they go and Dixie was no exception. We were given a dog I didn’t want with a name I didn’t like and I couldn’t possibly imagine my life without her.
Good dog…..
s
