More than a decade ago, not long after the family cat died after 14 years, my younger brother brought a barely-year-old golden Irish Setter home to my parents.
He said if they didn't want her, he'd be willing to take her. He adopted her from the Washington County Humane Society just before the deadline came before her time to be euthanized.
Though they had said they were done with pets, they quickly changed their minds. Especially after Mom learned that she didn't have a name, and that it was up to them to give her one.
"Penny" was what she was ultimately christened, because of the color of her coat.
Penny arrived prior to grandchildren for them, so until 2005, she enjoyed pretty much having the run of the house. Then came the grandson in 2005 and then a granddaughter four years later.
Now in her advancing years, Penny's had to learn to acclimate to having young kids in the house, and having to dodge playfulness from small people
that feel compelled to ride, climb or twist her tail.
The poor dog lives in Hell each weekday afternoon and every Sunday.
Despite this, she remains very protective of she's accustomed to seeing on a near-daily basis in the house. My parents and the grandkids too.
Unfortunately, no one can offer her the same protection in return...especially from what's ultimately going to put her in the ground.
Penny has been suffering from cancer for the past year now. While she still gets around well, it's slower than her norm, and regular trips to the groomer are no more, as the lumps under her coat are so numerous that any movement from an electric trimmer can hurt her.
I see the dog toys in a corner of the living room. The metal food and water dishes in a corner of the dining room. "Her" chair at the dining room table that she climbs upon to gaze out of the picture window into the front yard.
My mom requesting me to pick her up some Beggin' Strips snacks on my next trip to Sam's Club.
These will all be memories before long.
How do we thank the members of the family who do so much for so little, yet live only a fraction of the years we do?
Do they understand 'thank you'? A hug? Maybe an extra treat in the dish?
Do we understand them? Really?
If they could talk.
Maybe that's their appeal...the fact that they don't. The only sounding board some people have when they go home at the end of the day.
A listening ear.
It's amazing how a pet can do something so well humans fail at miserably at times.
Thus the reason we need them as an example.
NEXT WEEK: Drug Store
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