May 17, 2011
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MY DOG CHIP
It happened again, just now. I went outside to water some plants and enjoy the late afternoon, and as I stepped out the door, I looked around for him. Expected his smiling face to greet me, as he always has, for the last eleven years. Even put my open hand down out of long habit, expecting his warm, moist muzzle to nuzzle it. And then I got a catch, one that I’ve felt regularly for the last few weeks, in my throat when I remembered that he isn’t there and he won’t be, ever again.
It’s so hard for me to write about the hard stuff. The everyday blessings, the extraordinary, wonderful things that sometimes happen, even the mundane, workaday business of life–these are easy subjects. But something that details loss, grief, pain…I have trouble with these. It is simply easier to pretend the hard things don’t happen, and in a make-believe world like Xanga–or anywhere in cyberspace–it becomes possible. You don’t have to know the hard things about me to know me.
Or do you?
(less than a year ago…showing his age but still perky)
I realized today that it is possible people who read my posts think life is just easy-peasy, hunky-dory, a-ok everyday on this farm. That life always has that rosy glow and the sun always shines and birds sing on key every single day. Apple pie in the sky for breakfast and beds of roses to lie down in at night.
But that, of course, is not the truth. The unglossed-over, plain-as-the-nose-on-your-face truth is that lately life has been kind of hard. And it started in March. It was a morning when we woke up shivering, for a late-winter cold spell had blasted through overnight. It was predicted, and we were prepared, but it was really freezing and miserable, with the wind cutting straight through like a knife.
The first thing I did when I got up was to go outside on the porch because I woke up worried. I had tried to get Chip to sleep on the carport the evening before, but as has been the case all winter, he just couldn’t do it. Almost totally blind and deaf, he just couldn’t find a comfortable place inside. He needed to out there in the open, where he has been almost all his life.
When I didn’t find him that fateful morning outside the back door, I pulled my robe tighter around me and went out searching, all around the yard. It was no use, because he just wasn’t there. Soon, the Farmboy was dressed and we looked together, in all the nooks and crannies, under the big rocks, inside the tack room, even in the horses’ hay feeder, anywhere an old dog might take refuge from the miserable weather.
We didn’t find Chip that morning, and we never have, although we’ve looked all around the place. Even our neighbor helped look. Somehow, Chip took his blind and deaf self, sore hips and all, far enough away that we wouldn’t have to gaze upon him at the end. I think he knew that we would have such a hard time with that, and he did it to spare us.
As with any loss, it has been…gulp…difficult to face, but we have such grand memories of this grand dog to make us smile. Everyone loves his dog, but honestly, Chip was special. I’d like to say he was a one-woman dog….all mine…but that would not be true. Chip was everyone’s dog. If you came to visit for the first time, all it took to win him over was a friendly word and a pat on the head, and you had made a friend for life. He never met a stranger and never met a soul he didn’t like.
When Sarah came to visit, Chip was her running buddy, putting in however many miles she cared to log. When we rode horses, he was right beside us all the way, no matter how many hills we covered. I wish I could estimate the miles Chip and I covered through the years. He was a grand companion, and his joy in going with me was apparent up to the end. In fact, we walked several times just the week before he left us. He didn’t range out as far, due to his failing vision, but he still managed to go the distance. I can hardly make myself get out and walk now because of missing him so.
I think I wrote once about the time Chip followed a hitchiker all the way to our nearest town….going the LONG way around which was about 40 miles! When the man got into town, he stopped at a church to ask for money and the pastor contacted the town’s animal control officer to come and get Chip.Thankfully, his collar bore our phone number. Back at home, we were all in tears because he’d been gone 24 hours and we were despairing of ever seeing Chip again. You cannot imagine how happy I was to go into the kennel and see him there…smiling and happy as ever and completely unperturbed…it was all just a grand adventure to Chip. The people were very nice to him, and that was all that mattered.
I’ve written about Chip’s sledding abilities, learned long ago when the children were still at home and shared even last winter with the grandchildren, perhaps not as gracefully as in years past but still going down the hill with glee. I’ve written about his love of water and of how the creek was his glory…he never got enough of swimming after sticks, swimming with us, swimming by himself….he just loved swimming and was a strong swimmer. How can I ever go again to the creek without him?
(“helping” Emma fish)
We got Chip when he was six weeks old, and for a couple of months he was a house doggie. I put up gates, the kind you use to corral toddlers, and kept him off the carpet because he didn’t take to potty-training. But soon we realized Chip was an outside dog. He had to be outdoors where he reigned over our place like a king, patrolling the perimeter of the yard and pastures around our house until he soon had a well-worn path. He took great delight in keeping all critters away and would diligently bark all night, if need be, to keep the packs of coyotes away. He was good at that. I miss even that.
Chip’s coat was so thick in winter that he never was bothered by the cold, even though it worried me for him to sleep outside. He would nestle into a bed of leaves and be as cozy as if he was under a down comforter. But that warm coat didn’t work in warm weather, so, come April, we knew it was time to go short. The farmboy used cattle shears and gave him a good haircut while I tried to hold him. It wasn’t that he ran off–he just enjoyed all the attention so much that he would lie down on his back and expect a good belly-rubbing, rolling around in that mess of shorn dog hair.
For a couple of winters we took Chip bird hunting. He was a Springer and wasn’t bred to point, but when he smelled a covey of quail Chip would stand stock still, letting us know they were there. There aren’t enough quail in our part of the country anymore to do much hunting, but it was fun to see him work when we could find some birds.
What a smart pup he was! I remember the day I brought home my first batch of ten chickens and let them loose in the pen. Chip had slipped in behind me (he was always at my heels) and when live feathered creatures emerged from the pet carrier, he must have thought it was Christmas, birthday and the Fourth of July, all rolled into ten squawking, flapping, hysterical birds.
Chip went into a barking, chasing fit, feathers scattered, I shrieked, birds flew through the air–absolute mayhem! At the end of the day, we still had five chickens (after four returned home) and Chip had a good talking-to. In the ensuing four-plus years, he never bothered a chicken again. He knew he had committed a crime, and he was so sorry. I was certain of his remorse. Eventually, he even became friends…sort of…with the flock. Can you imagine a bird-dog taking up with birds? Chip did. He was an amazing dog. He liked cats, too.
So there, I’ve done it. I’ve written about a really hard thing that has been going on in my life, along with the perfect sunsets and the full moons and the smell of flowers and the creeks happily flowing along. While I’m at it, I’ll also say that my brother has been very ill…but now is better. And my dear mother-in-law is battling health problems which cause deep concern. Wonderful friends face life-threatening illnesses, and others grieve heart-breaking loss. Life is not just that bowl of cherries I usually make it out to be; it’s also the pits.
But maybe this helps. Maybe it is a good thing to share the hard parts with friends, like you.
Now do me a favor and go give your beloved doggy an extra treat and a real good tummy rub tonight. Do it in memory of Chip…
Comments (11)
Oh, Janet, what a special blog this is! I think that when we open ourselves up, to friends in person, or friends on xanga, we allow ourselves to know each other better and appreciate each other more. And how can we pray for each other if we don’t share our difficult times as well as our good ones? What a special dog Chip was! And what a blessing Chip had in you as his faithful friend!
Oh my friend what a nice tribute to your good faithful companion. We had a dachshund that lived to be 17. We’d had him since he was a pup. He grew old and white muzzled, deaf and nearly blind . He did as your Chip and simply disappeared, we could not find his body although we searched everywhere. Then much later we found a skeleton deep into the timber and knew it had to be our Barnie. As you I thought he didn’t want to let us see him pass away so quietly went off to be alone. I certainly know how you are feeling. It took us 10 years before we got our Miss Bella Beagle, I didn’t want the heart break of losing another dog but I am glad we have our Bella. Take care and thnak you for sharing about your Chip, he must have been quite the dog.
We had a dog that was part of our lives from the time our daughter was 18 mo. old for about the same length of time you had Chip. Daphne was a cockapoo…more cocker than poodle. She too got dim of eye and hard of hearing. We begin to keep her in the house as she got more feeble but she wanted out and always was right with us. She had a dog house and we sheared her each summer. She got out one summer day when we were visiting in the country. We searched and searched and like Chip never found her. I like the way you put it…he didn’t want you to have to deal with his death. I think that is what Daphne did too. I have heard that dogs know when it is their time and will choose their spot. Hard on us as humans not to have closure and it is really hard on the children. My son searched for her for over a year everytime we were back down here.
No one’s life is all sunny and happy. Sharing with others is a way to get us through. I’m so glad your brother is better. Blessings of peace to your mother-in-law during this hard time for her.
Our wonderful Zeb dog is now basically on 3 legs having injured himself during the deep deep snow we had this winter. He still loves walking with Wil but if he gets in pain or if things get worse for him we will have to make the harder than hard decision because we are his people. I hope that you will find another wonderful dog to share your life. It won’t be Chip but it can be a new someone to enhance your life.
Oh, Jan … I’m sorry I haven’t known before about your losing sweet old Chip! I’m so sorry. Your blog is a wonderful tribute to your faithful friend. I’m so glad you had him at your heels for all those years. I’m sad with you.
I still miss the “Dog of My Heart,” my Little Mimi, the sweet golden retriever girl Beau gave me to keep me company when my boys went away to school and I was all by myself in Macon Town.
What blessings our dogs are to us, but oh, how hard it is to lose them. Thank you for sharing your heart with us. God bless you, my dear friend.
Dear Janet, I really feel for you in your loss. I have read some of the stories and seen some of the pictures of Chip over the years and I know you miss him so. The good thing is that he lived many wonderful years and was loved so much while he was here. Thanks for sharing your stories whether they be happy or sad. Love from Debbie.
what an amazing dog!
we had a cat dear to our hearts disappear. we discovered later that a neighbor had been dogsitting a violent animal, and she was in the yard when the neighbor let the dog out. she ran off, and we’ve heard nothing else of her. i dream that she has come back to us often. we have all slowly adjusted to the hole in our household… but sometimes i wish the hole wouldn’t close up, either.
Well, I’ve cried like a baby reading this today! What a precious post! did I ever tell you I had a Springer named Bo who was my absolute heart?Bo lived 5 or 6 years longer than Chip, and it was as tough to say goodbye to her as it was to Chip. I remember that blind, deaf stuff and how painful it was to see but Bo was happiest when she was right beside us! Wherever that was! Have you the Tribute to a Pet that Dear Abby did? I’ll post it for you. Precious! Love to you, and God Bless Chip…
I think God gives us the Valleys so we can better appreciate the Mountaintops. We had an Airedale that adopted us when we first moved to this area. He had been terribly mistreated in his former life, and had become absolutely devoted to us. Rudy became ill about the same time we discovered my husbands cancer. I stressed over the care of both of these loves in my life. The morning we had to leave for the big city hospital we had arranged for a neighbor to care for the dog. Rudy and I said our final goodbyes, then rising on wobbly feet, he headed for the woods. With one final look back at us, he disappeared from our lives forever. I think, like Chip, Rudy sensed our pain, and just as he had eased his way into our lives, he eased his way out. What a blessing Chip . . . and Rudy . . . were to our lives.
Oh Janet, I’m so sorry. Thanks for your soul piercing post.
Chip will live on in your memory. It will be bittersweet because you will always miss him, but like any loss, it will become easier in time as only the good memories come back to you. My last pet was a sweet natured, white Persian cat. I had her 8 years when she died of natural causes. There are days when I stop whatever I’m doing thinking I’ve heard her chirp which is what most of her meows sounded like. She’s buried in our back woods in a ring of hostas. I’m truly sorry about your loss.
I am really behind, but just read this and want to say how sorry I am, and sorry you never found him. That must be really hard. So many good memories. I have a black lab named Toby, and we are away right now, at my son’s in CO, and I know he is missing me a lot right now! Sometimes it’s nice to have break from my goofy dog but I miss him and will give him lots of love when I get home.