- Outdoor columnist Ben Smith reflects on the joy and pain of being a dog owner.
The best part of being a dog owner is the joy they bring you, especially when you’re not at your best. Tessie has always had mother-like instincts and seemed to know what we needed most at the time. The worst part of being a dog owner, and I mean the absolute worst part, is having to say goodbye.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked into this beautiful dog’s brown eyes and felt immediately better. I’m not much of a crier, but I’ve shed several tears through the years with nobody to witness them other than her. When I was having a bad day, oddly enough she was my comforter, even though she couldn’t give me any life changing advice about whatever situation I was going through. She’d just sit on my foot and let me rub her head and get out whatever I needed to get out. Mostly an active dog, she seemed to know when to just be still and be there for me to rub on.
We got Tessie over eight years ago here in Hattiesburg. At the time we already had a couple of dogs that were getting on up in age, but I wanted a working dog to take hunting and fishing. At first, I had aspirations of training her to be a duck dog, but quickly realized that was way more work than I was willing to put in. I decided if she could trail a deer, that would be good enough for me. The girls, of course, couldn’t care less if she ever trailed a deer, or fetched a duck. She was a really cute puppy and that was plenty enough for them.
The entire first ride home I was questioning whether I’d lost my mind. She wouldn’t be still in the car and ended up riding the whole way to the house in my lap. When I arrived at the house, my oldest daughter, then six years old, was immediately smitten. I didn’t think we’d ever pry Tessie away from her so she could go to bed. She held and squeezed that puppy so tight I was actually worried that she’d suffocate her. Our middle daughter was already asleep for the evening (she was almost two) so she had to wait until the next day to play with our new pup.
Fast forward a few weeks and we already had a giant dog on our hands. I was worried she’d never stop growing and I wondered how we were going to afford to feed this eating machine. She was very smart and learned simple commands quickly. Being a retriever, she took to fetching tennis balls almost immediately. And the timing of having a new pup around the house couldn’t have been better as both of our older dogs passed shortly after her arrival. We’d had the other two dogs since college and having Tessie made their passing a little easier to deal with.
Over the years, Tessie became my hunting companion. She’d accompany me to the deer camp each trip and slept at the foot of my bed most nights. And yes, she picked up trailing a wounded deer quicker than I expected. A lot of those nights at the camp I was by myself, so her being there kept me at ease. Over time she became very protective of me and the girls. I’ll never forget one night when I was in Vicksburg at the grocery store. I’d just gotten into the truck with her after grabbing a few items and was sitting in the parking lot reading a message on my phone. Out of nowhere she jumped into my lap and started growling. I looked up at the window, which was rolled down, and there was a man standing there with a hood over his head. I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty confident he was about to try to rob me. The sight of that giant dog snarling must have been enough to scare him because he immediately took off running into the dark. It was at that moment that I knew just how special of a dog I had.
Tessie became a member of our family, not just some dog you have. Our three daughters all take turns feeding her and loving on her daily. Our oldest loves to take Tessie on walks around the neighborhood. The other two would do it, but the risk of Tessie seeing a rabbit on the walk is too dangerous for them. We learned that an eighty-five-pound dog chasing a rabbit while attached to a fifty-five-pound little girl is a recipe for disaster. To her credit, Collins never let go of the leash.
About a year ago, we thought we were going to lose Tessie. She’d developed some mysterious auto-immune disease and wasn’t doing well. After a couple of rounds of medicine, she improved and was like brand new. But almost exactly a year later, it reared its ugly head again. We noticed the changes in her behavior and eating habits so another trip to the vet was needed. Unfortunately, we didn’t get the news we wanted. This time there wasn’t much that could be done for her.
I decided to take her home from the vet for one more evening of all of us being together. The girls spoiled her with baked chicken (her favorite) and more treats than I can count. We took one last walk around the neighborhood, and I even took her to the lake for one last quick swim. She didn’t have the energy to play fetch with tennis balls in the yard like we usually do, but she mustered enough strength to bring them back to me when I’d roll them on the porch. We gave her hundreds of hugs and kisses and spent several hours just sitting next to her rubbing her.
I don’t know how dogs feel emotion, or how they process affection. Tessie always seemed to know how to comfort me when I was feeling down, so I’d like to think they understand when things are out of sorts. As I rubbed her head on our porch the next morning, I looked down and she was staring right into my eyes. Those pretty brown eyes pierced through to my soul and the waterworks started again. It was time to go, and I think she was ready, even though I wasn’t. The process was quick and just like that, she was gone. The ride home was the loneliest I’ve ever felt in my life. I don’t know if dogs go to Heaven, but I’m going to hold out hope that one day I’ll get to stare into those eyes again. And what a day that will be!
Ben Smith
