Family Dog Celebrating Our Favorite Relative

Dog People Even before my own family had a dog, I was a Dog Person. In the cool north woods of Michigan, where we spent our summers, dogs were always around and, as an only child, these dogs were my companions and my cousins. Together we ran in the forest and dog-paddled in the lake, shared ice-cream cones outside the general store, and sat together in the dark by the glowing campfire. On clear, cool summer nights we would sit at the end of the dock under the bright dome of twinkling stars and wait for the northern lights. Dogs are good at this since they don't mind the cold and they respect the perfect silence required for contemplating the universe. There we'd sit, just the two of us, cuddled up for warmth, the silence broken on occasion by the splash of a fish jumping for mayflies down the shore. Over the years, I've walked with many dogs down the silent, solitary path beside the lake in search of a deeper connection to my life. While Shadow, our little black cocker spaniel, was fearless, Katie, our bearded collie mix, was timid and never strayed far from my side. Luger, my uncle's dachshund, was relentless in his quest for animals, large and small. With his nose in the air, he'd waddle down the trail covered in a carpet of brown pine needles, short legs scramb- ling over the thick roots of the tall white pine. Then, suddenly, he'd catch a scent and break for the woods, disappearing beneath the ground cover of ferns. Much later, we'd find him in a standoff with a chattering squirrel high up in a tree. Susan's dog, Sherlock, a German shepherd-golden retriever mix, was bold and strong and would run ahead, tail held high like a flag, a brave scout leading the way. The most magnificent of them all was Daisy, our golden retriever, who loved to bound through the tall ferns and leap over fallen logs with incredible strength and beauty. She seemed to run for the sheer joy of running, and there was something perfect in that moment when she was free and full of life. Being there with her gave me a feeling of transcendence and grace. The Dog People in my family prefer the company of most dogs to that of most humans. With dogs we experience an innocent and deep connection that one can rarely find with another human. Dogs seem to see into our souls and offer us kindness, devotion, and complete acceptance. We talk to them and sing to them and take them on rides in the car because we know they like the car. We carry their pictures in our wallets and select our clothing and furniture based on the color of their fur. We Dog People love our dogs and cherish their lives in photographs and stories. Every dog may have a tale, but a dog needs a person to pass it down and keep the memory alive. Every one of our family dogs had a story. These well-worn legends outlived each dog and were told over and over until they were perfectly polished and smooth as a bone. Long after Old Fritzie was gone, for example, my family told stories about how this bulldog chased the old Model A Ford all the way from town and swam across the lake to get to the camp before the family arrived. Fritzie had originally belonged to my mother's cousins who lived down the street but apparently preferred my grandmother's cooking and decided to move into her household. For several weeks, cousin Francis would come over and bring Fritzie back home, but he'd made up his bulldog mind. They could take him home but he'd always return in time for Grandmother's supper. Finally, he won and settled into life with his chosen family. No one wanted to argue with Old Fritzie. Then there was the story of Pete, a dog from my grandmother Nelson's farm. I always imagined Pete to be a dog who resembled Old Yeller. As my grandmother used to tell it, she was just a young girl when her father lent Pete to a man who needed a dog for hunting. The man returned without poor Pete, explaining he had lost the dog somewhere in the faraway woods. (As a cSunshine, Linda is the author of 'Family Dog Celebrating Our Favorite Relative', published 2003 under ISBN 9781400045938 and ISBN 1400045932.