Lady Girl

LADY GIRL

It was 1965 when she came into our lives on a bone-chilling cold and windy Missouri winter morning, and ten years later, she would leave us on a day just as cold and windy. But between the beginning and the end were years of pure joy, laughter, friendship, and companionship. Years filled with unforgettable memories that my brother, sister, and I, along with my parents, experienced with a little dog named Lady Girl.

She was born in one of those old, somewhat dilapidated, yet functional midwestern barns. Surrounded by the smell of hay and the vocal antics of several milk cows. For the most part, the barn provided protection from the winter elements. Still, the little pups had to snuggle close to mama for warmth at night and, of course, nourishment during the day. Mama belonged to an old farmer who dutifully checked on the pups throughout the day. Making sure they were not in any danger, and that mama was taking good care of them. There were six pups in the litter, with our little one being the only girl. The question of paternity arose but was never definitively answered. Although at the time, speculation centered around several transient characters that had been hanging out at an adjacent farm.

In due course, the farmer wrapped the little puppy in an old blanket and brought her to our front door. Evidently, my dad had been approached several days earlier, and being the soft heart that he was, agreed to take one of the pups. However, he failed to tell my mother or anyone else, so when the farmer showed up at the front door with this little bundle, it was a surprise to us all. I can still remember my father looking over at my mother, silently asking for her blessing. Once she gave in, we all were ecstatic, knowing the little puppy was ours. Within minutes she had been given the name Lady, a soft bed, some homemade toys, and all the love she could handle.

It took no time at all for this unexpected arrival to settled into her new life. She was a natural at winning over hearts and developing a special relationship with anyone she encountered. She loved chasing birds and squirrels and riding in the car with her head out the window, catching the wind with those floppy ears. Going fishing with my dad and brother was a special treat, and she would not tolerate being left on the bank as my dad and brother would row off in their fishing boat. Without hesitation, the little tomboy would jump in the water, dog-paddling her way towards the small craft with a persistence and tenacity that said, 'I'm not giving up". My dad and brother amused at her antics would stop and haul her in knowing full well they were about to be the recipient of one of those dog shaking showers. After drenching my dad and brother, Lady would sit quietly, watching all the action and barking out 'stay away' warnings to all the ducks. And of course, giving the necessary smell test to any unfortunate fish that had been hooked and reeled in.

During lazy summer afternoons, Lady could be found sunning herself as she lay in the cool green grass of our backyard. She would spend all afternoon listening to the birds or watching the squirrels forage for food. Occasionally dosing off only to be awakened by some critter walking across her nose or a fly buzzing around her ear. When one of us would pull into the driveway, she would jump up and start chasing birds. As if to show us she had been on duty all afternoon protecting the house and backyard from a dreaded avian invasion.

Summer would also find us making evening trips to the Tastee-Freeze for those deliciously cooling ice cream cones. We would hop in the car, including Lady Girl, and mom would drive the short distance with windows rolled down and Lady with her head out the window taking everything in. The closer we came to the Tastee-Freeze, the more excitable Lady would become, barking and whining at top volume. By the time we pulled up to the window, our girl was totally out of control, attracting the attention and laughter of all the other customers. Each of us would get a small cone with either vanilla or chocolate ice cream. Lady, of course, would have her own that she would invariably manage to gulp down in less than a nanosecond. Her antics over that ice cream were so entertaining to other customers that the drive-in never charged for Lady's cone and always sent her off with a reminder to "come back soon."

At night, our little tomboy turned princess would quietly saunter off to the one bed she had selected as her own, which also happened to be the bed my sister and I shared. She would sleep deeply throughout the night, sometimes wildly moving her legs and whining as she dreamed of chasing an elusive rabbit or two. And if either my sister or I rolled onto her space on the bed, Lady would let out a growl that would have frightened even the meanest junkyard dog, although we soon learned that growl was all bluff. In her whole life, I do not think this precious little dog ever showed an ounce of aggression toward anyone or anything.

I do not know how much Lady understood, but she did seem to feel a sense of loss as my brother, sister, and I graduated and left home. I was the first to go, so I never saw this change in her mood nor the ever so slight look of growing sadness in her eyes. I was told she would wander through the house looking for the family member who had suddenly disappeared. When her searching came up empty, she would sit on the back deck waiting for her missing friend to drive up and greet her, like the many times before. Undoubtedly, though, her saddest day was when we lost my father. Thankfully, she was in the back yard when he succumbed to a fatal heart attack inside the house. My brother, sister, and I immediately flew home to be with my mother. As we arrived home, Lady was nowhere in sight, and by evening we were all frantically searching for her. My brother finally found the frightened and confused little dog under the back deck, refusing to come out. She knew something awful had happened, and for her, the only way to cope was to barricade herself in a quiet, safe location. And there she stayed for two weeks until it was just, she and my mother.

For several years after that, Lady and my mother were inseparable. Where my mom went, Lady would follow. The fresh summer grass still beckoned her, but no longer would she jump up and chase the birds. For now, there was no one to show off for. And of course, mom still took her for ice cream, although Lady was just not as excited as before. Instead of gulping down her cone, she now licked the ice cream more slowly, sometimes not even finishing the once-coveted summer evening treat. After I went off to college, Lady began a bed-hopping routine never quite permanently taking up sleeping headquarters in any one bed. But after my father passed, she decided the old brass bed my parents shared would now be the best place to lay her head each evening. No longer letting out that formidable space invasion growl, for now, she seemed to crave the closeness of my mom sleeping beside her. And that dream of chasing rabbits had grown old.

Lady Girl spent her last few years as a cherished companion to my mother. Together they silently shared their grief, their loneliness, their memories. They held on tight to each other, not wanting to lose that last link to happier times. Although sadly, the link did break on a cold, grey winter morning when Lady's kidneys finally gave out. She started her journey over the rainbow bridge with my mother gently stroking her head and ended the crossing running toward my dad. No doubt, he welcomed her with one hand while holding his fishing pole in the other.

I often think of that little dog and am grateful for all the joy she brought into our lives. A little mutt born in a barn who never saw the inside of a grooming salon or romped around in a doggie park. She never received notoriety for any heroic deed, never saved a child from a burning building, or summoned help for anyone in distress. Her diet consisted of table scraps and an occasional can of Alpo. No designer dog food or expensive treats. There was never a need for a dog trainer because not once was her behavior a cause for concern. No need for outdoor fences or doggie daycare because Lady knew her boundaries and was trusted to take care of herself when no one was home.

Thinking of Lady Girl brings only smiles and terrific memories, and no doubt is the reason I have always had a dog or two in my life. They add a unique dimension to one's life that cannot be acquired in any way other than sharing your home with one of these marvelous creatures. Their loyalty, their silly little antics, their excitement over small things, their tenacity, and their resilience are but some of the reasons we find ourselves so endeared to these creatures. Still, for me, it is the feeling I get when looking into those dark, inquisitive eyes that tells me perhaps they have this whole thing figured out. Reflected in those eyes is possibly an intelligence equal to if not superior to ours. No, they cannot solve complex mathematical equations or write detailed computer code. But what they can do is perhaps more meaningful, more relevant to the human condition. They can bring comfort to a heavy heart, companionship to the lonely, loyalty to the abandoned, laughter to the despondent, and make life so much easier for the handicap. Humans spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out what life is all about. I suspect our canine friends figured that out some time ago. Lady Girl sure did.