Just an Ol' Brown Dog

 

 

She came with our house when we purchased it. She was just an “ol-brown-dog;” one like you would find roaming through any Alabama back road or city street corner. The kind that shelters are full of. The sort that often don’t have a place and a person to love unconditionally.

The previous owner of our home had left her there with her 6 puppies. No food. No water. He just abandoned her; left her to fend for herself for over two weeks. I believe you can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats his dog. I dare someone to try and prove otherwise.

I had met this dog when we first looked at the house. She played with one of the man’s horses in the pasture before coming up to greet me with a great big smile. I love a smiling dog. I had always wanted one, but that’s not something you find every day.

I was puzzled by the name he gave her, June. I was pretty sure that Alabama has a law that forces you to name a smiling dog something to do with their grin. If not, they need to pass that legislation today. Smiling dogs deserve to be recognized.

Once she was ours (when we moved in) her name was changed to Smiley. That just felt right. It seemed to suite her. She was our “outside dog,” because we already had our two Italian Greyhounds in the house, but that didn’t last long.

During the first hard freeze, she leaned up against the wood door, shivering from the cold. The old door was vibrating in its frame, and I told Paige that we needed to put her in the basement. “Just for tonight,” I said. Then the basement door started vibrating. The rest is history. She liked to lay on the end of the sofa that Paige sat on.

Smiley was one of those rare dogs that understands what you want and need from her. She was always where she needed to be, and she always obeyed…always. She’s the kind of dog that you never forget, and one that every person should have before they leave this earth. She was special.

About a year before Maddie was born, one of our friends came over with their small son. He was barely walking. We were talking in the driveway when I noticed that Smiley was always a step behind the boy as he walked away. She wasn’t leaving him, and as he was about to disappear from our sight, I called to Smiley. She just looked at me and through her eyes said, “I’m doing what I was created to do.” Everywhere that boy went, she went. She was a silent sentry shadowing his every step. That was the first time.

When we brought Maddie home from the hospital, Smiley greeted us on the back porch. She sniffed all around her car seat and put her nose against Maddie’s. She welcomed her home. That was fitting I guess since it was Smiley’s home before it was ever ours.

When Maddie first started crawling Smiley was her play partner. She climbed all over the dog, going back and forth across her midsection. Smiley never complained. It seemed like she was happy being a little girl’s jungle gym. Maddie was her person. Smiley was her best friend.

Several years later I was watching Maddie as Paige went to a craft club meeting. I was using the tractor to move the rotten crossties from our front yard as Maddie was playing on her playset. I checked on her each time I drove past, ensuring that she was still there before I moved. I had made several trips to the burn pile already when I drove by the playset again. Maddie was swinging with Smiley looking on just a few feet away, so I drove up the hill to grab another load. I started to back up when I saw Smiley standing behind the huge right rear tire.

“Smiley move!”

She just stood there, looking at me.

“Move dog!”

She didn’t budge.

I was cussing under my breath as I throttled the tractor down and set the brake. I was going to move that dog myself. I turned to my left to exit the tractor in anger…Maddie was standing there. Smiley was just behind her.

I’m sure my face was ashen. I wouldn’t have moved that tractor without laying eyes on Maddie, but Smiley didn’t know that. Tears fell from my face as I embraced the ol-brown-dog. The dog that one man threw away.

Smiley also slept in Maddie’s bed. She was Maddie’s protector. Maddie never worried about the monsters in her closet or the boogie man under her bed. She had Smiley, and Smiley had her.

One day we were walking in the creek that runs in front of our house when I saw Maddie lose her balance on top of one of the huge boulders. She grabbed the fur and skin on Smiley’s back until it was raised 3 or 4 inches from her back. Smiley braced herself; she never yelped or barked. She just tensed up so Maddie wouldn’t fall.

There are other stories I could tell you about her. She was just that kind of dog. The kind that licks your tears away when you lose a son or gives you a smile when you can’t find one of your own. She is where you wanted her to be, doing what you needed her to do. Maddie could roam all over our property unsupervised because Smiley was there. She was a four-legged extension of us.

So, the next time you see an ol-brown-dog walking around looking for someone to love, consider letting it love you. Because you might just be giving a home to the best dog you’ve ever had…the standard by which you measure all others, and the one whom your children will always hold in their hearts. Smiley was that for us.

That ol-brown-dog, that one man didn’t want, wanted us, loved us, and gave us all she had until she had nothing more she could give. And on that day, years ago, she gave us one final gift. She let us know that it was time. She went peaceably where all the ol-brown-dogs go; to a place a dog like her deserves... where I hope she still looks over a special two-year-old boy.