Our Dog HiLo

He came into our home as a gift from a boyfriend of our daughter on her birthday. He was a small dog – white, long hair with a few spots of tan and big soulful eyes that looked at you with the simple trust of devotion. When scolded, as he often was, the expression of desolation within their depth immediately tore away the feeling of annoyance with him and you invariably reached forth a hand, giving him a kindly and gentle pat. The change in his expression to one of gladness and pleasure was reflected in his eyes and the swift wagging of his tail.

O he had many traits that were vexing, traits no doubt inherited from his collie strain and made more determined by an experience he had when he was less than a year old. He had a long bushy tail that he curled up over his back and as he walked along it made you think of a knightly plumage worn for decorative purposes and to denote the fact that he came from a family tree that had been knighted in the hearts of men and women for loyalty and devotion to their masters.

Well the fact that he loved to play with children at that time was suddenly and irrevocably broken when one day he came whining to the door of our house and my wife came to the door and there she saw the over proud plumage of her HiLo's tail dragging in the dirt. It had been cut about halfway between the tip end and where it joined his body. My wife taken the scissors and clipped the small strands of skin that held it. We always presumed that some boy or boys in a moment of cruelty had done the act for from that day he seemed to have a deep and intense hatred for children which he had never had before.

From that time on he was just a family dog with a deep distrust for everyone else, and in this reaction it seemed that the great heart of him made up in a deep emotion and fidelity for his family. He never forgot them. Though they be gone for months or a year, he always greeted them with the joyful expression of welcome home. His little body and his now short tail gleefully wriggled in delight at their arrival. Any stranger or any dogs that came on our premises was met with defiance and attack. Though he was thoroughly whipped and beaten by larger dogs, he never failed to carry on the struggle until one of us rushed to his rescue and generally we had to grab him in our arms and carry him to safety.

So he lived a dual life filled with devotion to his family and a fighting distrust to all others. And then he met his end, having attacked the dog of a family within the block in which he lived. He was terribly beaten by the man, and as he lay dazed and stricken at his assailant's feet it must be that those large soulful eyes looked up into the attacker's and in that moment must have melted the anger of the man for he carried him in his arms to the home of my daughter. With his soul crying and cringing at the mad deed he had committed, he taken his car and with my daughter and our little dog carried them to the clinic of the veterinarian in an attempt to save its life and mend its broken head. My daughter phoned her mother who in turn called me from my work and with heart and body broken in tears she told me the story of HiLo's last fight.

I made a trip of 70 miles and went to the clinic where they brought our little dog and placed him on the table. As I called his name he raised his battered head and wagged his little tail but the soulful expression was dulled in his red and swollen eyes and after consultation with the veterinarian, I gave the last request that he be given the solace of his final sleep. After it was done we wrapped him in a blanket and carried him to the grave that I had dug in my daughter's yard and there we layed our little dog as I repeated to myself “Dust thou art, to dust returneth thy body.” It is not for me to say that you have a soul or not. I only know that you brought pleasure and joy and comfort to my wife in long hours of days and nights when she was all alone. He was her little dog, however as to all of us, our little canine friend.

I write this true story and dedicate it to my now three grandsons and my grandchildren yet to come, that in the story they may gain an insight to the magnetic response between humans and their canine friends. The fact that the dog is devoted to his master or mistress be they woman or girl, man or boy, and that such devotion is found nowhere else as far as I know in the realm of creation. Though you love it or beat it, in almost every instance the response is automatic. Love it and it responds with joy. Mistreat it, yet it will crawl and grovel at your feet in supplication for forgiveness, begging with little sounds like groans or in silent pleading for the sound of your voice in forgiveness and the gentle stroke of your hand on its head. In the silence of the night it is the silent watcher of you and your domain. In the full light of day it will expend itself in your protection if needed. In the long hours of loneliness it will share and relieve the hours of day and in the lone vigils of night it will always be near you.

The dog in my opinion is God's gift to fill the hearts of men and women, boys and girls with tenderness and pleasure. The fact that it has a brain capable of thought giving it directed action, displaying to a high degree the reactions of its master. The Creator of all things breathed into its being those natural qualities with which it is endowed, a few of which are fidelity, veneration and courage. So be kind to your dog, your friend, constant and true even unto death. Your treatment will often be the measurement of the stature of your manhood or womanhood.