Thirteen years ago, my daughter moved to Columbus, OH to start her life after college. During that time she adopted a sweet 4-year old American Eskimo dog from the Columbus Dog Connection. He had been found roaming the Ohio countryside, neglected and abused. His original name was White Fang, the rescue agency named him Clarke, my daughter took the “e” off the end, and he became Clark.
The first time she brought Clark to the house, he was greeted by a dog or two, went right to my living room, sniffed around, and cocked his leg on one of my living chairs. He made his mark on my heart at the first intro.
Clark lived quite a life. He started out in Columbus, then went to Portland, OR, New York City, and then Chicago. Before he went to Portland, he spent about 8 months with us in Dayton due to the my daughter moving in the fall and needing the temperature in an airplane cargo hold to be warm enough to transport him. I cried when I put him in the transport cage and followed the plane’s online flight path from Dayton to Portland.
Due to his past experiences, it took a while for Clark to warm up to people but once he let you into his circle, he was fiercely loyal. He wasn’t a cuddly dog, but he liked to be around people. When he was excited, his little prancy paws would make a tap-tap-tap on the floor or he would zoom around the room or the yard at high speed.
A couple years ago when Clark was 15ish, we noticed some decline in his hearing and leg strength. Old age was setting in. My daughter prepared herself for the day that she would have to make the worst decision a dog owner has to make. Two weeks ago she said good bye to her beloved pup.
Her home is quieter now but she still finds herself expecting Clark to come out of the bedroom. She still finds white fur on her clothes and furniture (those fibers of love), she counts her blessings that he was hers for thirteen years, lucky that he was her loyal companion, shadow, and fierce protector, lucky that he rescued her, too. The hole that is in her heart is full of love and memories.
“Dogs die. But dogs live, too. Right up until they die, they live. They live brave, beautiful lives. They protect their families. And love us. And make our lives a little brighter. And they don’t waste time being afraid of tomorrow.” – Dan Gemeinhart
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