Our friend, Sadie. Saying goodbye to our dog, a model of love, loyalty and friendship
When our last dog was laid to rest, we grieved for as long as two dog-lovers can grieve before we embarked on a search for a new pal. Kathy was on the computer one Sunday evening looking for a miniature Australian shepherd, given how many of our friends had such great success with the breed. The next morning, I opened the garage door to find this canine waif staring at me as if she had come on call. Amazingly, she seemed to be a miniature Australian shepherd. But how could that be?
Not giving much thought to where she came from, we invited her in, or did she invite herself? We put the word out trying to find her rightful owner. After no response for a few weeks, we decided she must have been sent on a magic carpet ride to our door in response to our search.
A thorough vet visit uncovered fleas, ticks and worms, and the vet’s best guess was that she had been on the run for a couple of months. He suggested spaying her, and we agreed, assuming we were now the rightful owners. Two months later, the owner called to reclaim her, but when he learned she had been spayed, he told us she was a breeding cattle dog and of no use to him.
That marked the beginning of a 16-year friendship that ended just a few weeks ago when Sadie left us for infinity. Every now and then, I see a tweet from someone who just lost their pet, and I always send a “like,” knowing exactly how tough it is to lose a companion who never left your side in so many years, but not nearly enough.
For all those years, Sadie pawed my side of the bed before dawn’s first light, and we headed out on our morning walk. Sadie was deaf so she spent her life on a leash, but always at the end of it choosing the trail we’d take in the foothills or the streets we’d walk in the North end. She enjoyed pizza on our Sunday morning walks through downtown thanks to Saturday night diners who left a piece or two on the sidewalks of 8th Street’s restaurant row. From there, it was on to the Boise River where she loved to wade.
In her later years, Sadie passed up her regular kibble meals, so Kathy devised a dinner fit for a queen. Boiled lamb, lamb broth, rice and some dog food thrown in for good measure. Even then, she sometimes sniffed it and walked away, but here’s the interesting part. We could usually command her to eat, and she would reluctantly head back to her dish and clean it to the very last morsel. I have no doubt those special dinners added a few years to her life.
Sadie was an unusually colored border collie, not your typical black and white, but she was all border collie. As she followed me around the backyard from chore to chore, she seemed to be asking, “What work do you have for me. I’m a working breed.”
In her later years, she didn’t like staying up late and she never headed for her bed in our room unless we did as well. About 9 p.m. — too early for us to retire — she would stare us down as though we were just a couple of strays from the flock.
It was tough communicating with Sadie given her deafness, so we relied on sign language to communicate. Her favorite was a sign as though I was at the steering wheel of the car, and she would head for the garage knowing she was in store for a ride. Maybe you’ve never seen a dog smile, but when we looked out that rearview mirror, we saw Sadie hanging her head out the back car door window and laughing all the way.
Sadie wasn’t the only one laughing over the years. I read somewhere that folks with dogs have way more laughs in their lives and that might even contribute to longer lifespans. Who knows what all works for longer lifespans, but as far as the laughs are concerned, no doubt about it, we laughed often over the years as she would pull that toy out of her basket and take her stand, defying us to grab it from her for a tug of war. That’s my favorite photo of her and I guess it should come as no surprise that the toy is a fluffy lamb. What else would you expect of a border collie?
Sadie walked me out of the administration building on my last day at Boise State, but that was hardly the most memorable moment for Sadie at Boise State. We brought Sadie to the annual Christmas tree lighting which we thought she would enjoy given her propensity to nuzzle up to any human who reached out to her.
But this year, someone brought a reindeer to the lighting, like a real live reindeer with sizable antlers. Sadie took one look at that reindeer and yanked Kathy’s arm off as she headed for the parking lot and the safety of the back seat. We never figured out what could be so daunting about a reindeer but decided that event was not for her.
I will never understand why man’s best friend has such a short lifespan, but one thing’s for sure. She was our best friend who adored us. It seemed her only purpose in dog life was to be there for us. And then, if not for us, anyone who crossed her path, especially kids who just wanted to pet this dog with the wagging tail.
Not everyone is able to own a dog and, no doubt, it is a responsibility to be taken seriously. But take it from a couple rescued by a dog, dogs may teach us a thing or two about love, loyalty and friendship that can serve as models for how we treat others, even those who show up homeless on our streets or at our door.
It’s taken a few weeks to write this without staring at a blurry page, but I think I made it. My son, Steve, visited us while he was fighting cancer and Sadie had just been with us for a few weeks. Given how long she was out on the streets, she was unsettled at that point and seemed more interested in getting out of the yard and running the neighborhood. We shared that we thought she might enjoy ranch life better than city life, so perhaps we should find her a better home.
Not long before Steve died, he emailed a simple message, “Dad, give the little girl a chance.” We knew at that moment there was no giving up this sweet doggie. Steve’s word would be honored. It didn’t take long for Sadie to adjust to city life, and our lives are so much the better for the years we enjoyed her love and companionship. Thanks, Steve.