The dog.

 

I've noted here before that I'm not really a "dog person", which is not to say that I don't like dogs.  I do.

I didn't have a dog growing up, save for an extremely brief time in which my parents for some reason adopted one from the Humane Society.  It was a Scotch Terrier mix and was fully grown, and ran away almost as soon as we got it.  I don't know what motivated them to acquire the do, I probably wanted one, and I can barely remember it, we had it so briefly.  I was very young at the time.

They probably chose the dog type as our yard was tiny.  When I was growing up, my mother wanted a bigger house for many years until she became attached to the one they'd bought in 1958, when they were first married.  The backyard really was tiny.  It wouldn't have accommodated a large dog.

We always had cats, and I love cats.  Having said that, we tended to attract dogs and cats, as some people do.

Anyhow, most people who are bird hunters have dogs, but we didn't.  By the time I was in late grade school I was a horrible asthmatic, something I don't talk about much, and I turned out to be allergic to cats and dogs, so that foreclosed getting a dog.  I was so allergic to dogs that I'd get to where I could hardly breathe if I was riding in a car with a dog, something that was still the case as late as the very early 90s.  For some reason, however, the condition abated enormously after that.  A neighbor's cat, for most of its very long cat life, basically lived at our house, which shouldn't have really been possible if I'd remained highly allergic.

About 7 or 8 years ago, my wife decided we should get a dog.  I went back for tests and found I was still allergic, and retook the battery of shots that I had taken twice previously in my life.  One day I came home to find she'd placed an order for a Double Doodle hunting dog.

I was worried, but largely kept it myself. When the little fluff ball arrived, I was really skeptical, but he started proving his worth as a hunting dog that very fall.  More than that, however, he proved himself to be a highly affectionate dedicated outdoor dog.

He hunted all this past fall with me and then a few weeks ago fell ill.  Aggressive cancer.  Now he's gone.

The past year plus has really been horrific for me in all sorts of ways.  Surgery twice, stress to the limit, being ill every day. Two family deaths back to back, and now this.  I don't know why these things happen.

I've carried on throughout it, but I can hardly write this due to the tears in my eyes for the dog.