January 4, 2014
My gopher-chasing, occasionally curmudgeon
old friend died yesterday. He was ill, fading fast, and becoming aggressive in his
altered state. I think of the first time I jumped in the car with Tyrus and headed
up to my friend’s place in Big
Lake. It had been quite some
time since I had seen her, years, in fact, and I was anxious to catch-up. She was
concerned about her doesn’t-play-well-with-others Boxer yet it was clear, after
a few fretful moments, the dogs would get along famously. The elderly dog rambled
behind the other two, barking and cavorting, never seeming to mind being in last
place. He got his share of treats and snuggles, tug of war and taught Tyrus how
to hunt the rodents in the back forty. Baxter was so intent upon catching the little
critters, he would frequently become sidetracked, forget he was supposed to return
home, and go inside with the others. My friends had to scrounge-up a flashlight,
the only attraction, if he failed to respond to a shrill whistle. Once he caught
sight of the light, he would gallop towards it, barking with enthusiasm. We couldn’t
help ourselves; he always made us roar with delight. Despite his sideways grin,
dribbly eye and occasional grumpy demeanor, he was a love. I will miss him greatly.
Who will take over Baxter’s job of keeping the gopher population down?
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