Sunday Read: The life of a dog
How the story of a rescue isn't always what it seems
Funny how one animal can shape a life
If you follow me on social media, chances are you’ve heard or seen pictures of River dog. She’s become something of an internet darling in her own right and her story is both typical and unusual as so many of these rescue stories often are.
My daughter and her boyfriend came to visit me this week in St. Louis and River was so happy to see her big sister. She is the reason she came home with us at all.
This story might seem like one of those cheesy ones about a dad who didn’t want an animal then falls madly in love with it once his family forces him to adopt it.
I’ll have you know that it most certainly is.
Big fish
River’s story starts in far off Palatka, Florida in April 2012. My brother has a nice little place right on the St. Johns River near several wildlife preserves and creeks that makes for great adventures by boat. My former wife and I headed down with our two youngest kids for their high school Spring Break to relax on the river.
As we headed out early one morning to get in the boat for some sightseeing, I spotted something flopping around in the shallows just offshore. As I got closer, I discovered it was a black dog stuck in the muck and weeds looking terrified. I tossed my sandals and waded in to get it. The poor thing’s eyes were as wide as saucers as I approached her and happily let me scoop her up and carry her to shore
She looked a bit like a black Labrador but skinny with short legs. We cleaned her off and tried to settle her down. She was scared and tired. We had plans for the day that didn’t include a wet dog so decided to continue on with the adventure and my wife would stay behind with her. As I backed the boat out of the dock, we watched that sweet little dog look up at her with the softest face full of love. I felt it in my bones.
I told the kids, “We’re screwed.”
I was right. When I got back they mounted a campaign to find out if someone had lost their dog. Visiting the local store and asking neighbors. Putting up flyers. Someone reported that they had seen her running on the busy highway with a beagle and that the beagle got him by a car it seemed.
They then went down to the local animal control. It is in the county dump. The employees looked at her and said she was pretty but since she was a black dog…well…she wouldn’t get adopted and they would just have to put her down in a week or two. A perfectly healthy dog.
When they got back and told me, my daughter made the case to load her in our car and take her back to Virginia with us. I was adamantly against it. We already had a big dumb yellow lab rescue, horses, and any number of rotating small pets rolling through our house in the country. Loading a strange dog in my new Mercedes and driving 800 miles to add yet another animal to the mix was just completely out of the question.
So, of course, we took her
She promptly barfed in the back seat all over my son’s Kindle.
A name and a pain
I rarely named the animals in our family. Like in many families the kids would come up with a list or my ex would decide on one without my input. I decided to leverage my flexibility in ‘letting’ her come home with us to pick the name. It was so obvious there wasn’t much disagreement. I fished her out of a river…so ‘River’ was the perfect name.
We quickly discovered the WHY part of her being a rescue too. We lived on four acres in rural Virginia outside of Fredericksburg. We had horses and pastures. It was a throughway for all kinds of animals from deer to bunnies to foxes. River chased them all. Not just a few yards. No, she would chase them for miles often dragging our old, bad knees, stiff jointed yellow Lab, Allie, with her.
About every other week we would get a call saying someone had found her in their yard or worn-out panting by the side of the road. My son-in-law would go pick them up. Finding them often covered in mud from the various creeks that surrounded the area. Allie looking apologetic and River happy as a child with a new toy.
It took us a bit to break that habit.
Life happens
The years passed. She was always the ‘new’ dog. She hated other dogs which caused problems when visitors came but she loved her farm life. Laying in the grass in the backyard guarding for itinerant bunnies and chasing Allie even as she got older and sadly passed.
Eventually kids move away. Marriage’s end. Pets start succumbing to the ravages of time. We sold the farmette and moved to Richmond into the downtown. Then on to St. Louis in a city apartment then the suburbs.
River rode it all out. Getting greyer along with me. Slowing down as one does but always there. By my feet when I am stressed. Hanging out with the teenagers hoping they drop food as they tend to do.
Always in the middle of the crowd with her constantly wagging tail. Rubbing on any outstretched limb that is available. Always upside down with her weird habit of flopping any time she really wants attention.
My girlfriend decided to get her DNA tested and solve the mystery once and for all. Just a complete mutt with 25% Cocker Spaniel, 23% Labrador Retriever, 28% Boxer, 15% German Shepherd, and a bit of every other dog it seems. Not quite what I expected, but not entirely surprising at all.
We don’t walk as far as we used to anymore. A mile puts her to the test, but she won’t ever skip an opportunity to go. We have a giant backyard with deer, bunnies, squirrels, racoons, and even the occasional owl to argue with so she stands guard over it all. She will chase one every now and then but it’s not miles anymore. Perhaps a few yards and a sheepish return to her spot by the chairs. The spirit is there for the chase, but the body isn’t.
This week when her big sister came to visit, and she was as happy as that little puppy we fished out of the river over 11 years ago. It gave me a chance to contemplate life without her constant companionship.
Each morning she gets me up and insists we check the perimeter of the property. When I go down the rabbit hole of work, she pops in to drag me outside for a break. If my girlfriend calls, she comes in to say ‘hi’ too. If I put my shoes on, she jumps on my feet to take her along on whatever adventure it is I’m doing.
We don’t deserve dog’s, but my life would be less full if she hadn’t decided to go running into the river outside our yard that day. Sometimes the universe just provides you the answer even when you don’t know the question.
After all this time I often find myself asking that inevitable question about that sunny spring day in Florida: who rescued whom?
Pet your dog.
Rescue the stray.
Have a wonderful week.
I can relate to this story. My husband never wanted a dog, the girls always did. I visited a friend who had a Vizsla pup in May 2007 and completely fell in love. Found one for myself the day I got home from that visit. Asked my younger daughter, then 14, if she wanted to come check out a puppy. "Mom," she said, "if I go with you, we'll have to buy it." I told her I knew that and that I needed someone to hold the pup on the way home.
So we walk in the house carrying the pup, hubs sees it. "Don't tell me you bought a puppy." He was mad but I'm not big on asking for permission, more into seeking forgiveness later. The girls wanted to call him Toby which I disliked. After about 4hrs of having him here, hubs says, "Let's call him Bravo." That's ownership, when the one who doesn't want the dog, names it.
Bravo was with us for almost 14 years. He passed in 2021 when both girls were home to say goodbye to him.
Dogs really are best friends.
Always look forward to reading your stories.