This story was started in July 2008 as an entry for an online dog story competition. It never got submitted. It got revised later that month, and part of that revision is Part 2 here.
Dallas was on the All Breed Canine Rescue website under “Mature Dogs”, described as a “small German Shepherd.” I had been looking through dog rescue sites, hoping that no dog would ‘speak’ to me. This gray-muzzled, sharp-faced, squat-bodied Shepherd-type lying beside a Christmas tree in her foster home spoke to me. It was way too soon.
We had just put our German Shepherd Jack to sleep. He’d been rescued at 14 weeks from a situation of neglect and had been with me for nine and a half years. He was my friend and touchstone. No other dog could replace him or compete for my affection. But the house seemed so empty. The cats missed him. My husband said no new dog, he needed to mourn Jack. I needed a dog. I tried to volunteer for shelter dog walking but nothing viable could be arranged soon enough. I took ‘match yourself to a dog breed’ questionnaires. I checked the ABCR site again – Dallas was still listed. My husband still couldn’t think of another dog in Jack’s place.
It was a cat that changed his mind. The “boss” cat, she ceased harassing the others and just lay next to Jack’s favourite sleeping places, staring dull-eyed at where he should have been. After a week of this, my husband said “maybe we should get a dog for that cat.” So Dallas came for a visit. The cat ran right up to her, delighted. Then realizing this dog wasn’t Jack, she hissed ferociously and stalked off.
When ABCR got Dallas from the pound, she was unspayed and had arthritic or injured hind legs. Most dramatically, she had no hair on her back. “Her skin was like raw hamburger,” I was told. Allergy treatment and special food had cleared up the hair loss. Still, no one really knew what was wrong with her and nobody knew how long she’d been wandering the countryside or what she’d gone through. She had a lump on her rear end. We were still recovering financially from vet bills for Jack and our elderly cat Henry who had died shortly after Jack. We were also recovering emotionally from months of caring for chronically ill animals and the loss of them. Was taking Dallas asking for more expense and sadness? Quite possibly. But, to me, she also looked like home; she looked like she belonged here.
After a few more visits, Dallas came to stay. She had enjoyed visiting, but expected her foster mom to be waiting to take her home. The day her foster family left without her, she clawed at the door howling inconsolably. I was in tears. A few hours later, after a good long walk, Dallas looked around the house and seemed to decide that if this was now home, she’d make the best of it. She has glued herself to me and is very protective. She doesn’t trust men, but is realizing that the one in her new house isn’t a threat to her or me. The cats have warmed up to her. Her extended human family welcomed her. My sister seems resemblances to Casey, her late Shepherd/Husky. My mother sees Bing, our old family Shepherd, in her. I see similarities with them and Jack, but we all see her distinct personality and way of doing things. I have taken her to Jack’s grave and to his favourite walking places. I tell her about him and she wrinkles her nose up at me and listens.
The lump was easily removed and was benign. She takes pills daily for hip dysplasia and allergies. Sometimes her legs are creaky, but she plays and chases balls. She’s not Jack, but she is Dallas, a dog who, like him, has adopted us for life. My sister said, “You needed her as much as she needed you.” It’s true.
(Part 2) Dallas died almost three months to the day after we got her. One day in July she wasn’t herself. She brought up in the morning, and then seemed ok. But, on our walk, she didn’t want to chase her ball, really just put up with the walk for my sake. That evening, she was listless. Late at night, she was feverish and chilled. I should have called her vet. I didn’t. I took her in first time in the morning. I had to help her out of the car. They couldn’t see anything obviously wrong, so kept her in for observation and tests. She died in the night. No one knows why.
Her gift to us was to fill the void left by the deaths of Jack and Henry. I hadn’t been sure that I could open to my heart to another dog in the same way. But Dallas needed a home, and she showed me I could love another dog She reminded us of Jack, and of other dogs in our lives. But she was also her own dog, with her own funny habits and ways of doing things.
I was devastated at losing her so soon. A friend said maybe she was a messenger, whose purpose with us was to pass our love for Jack on to other dogs. Losing a dog is heart breaking, but the loneliness of no canine companionship is worse. We’ll be adopting another dog, probably a Shepherd type, soon.
(Part 3) A few months later, we did adopt again. First, Charlie, the little terrier mix. Then Leo, the then-weird Standard Poodle. We didn’t so much adopt Leo as he adopted me. He later saw his way clear to adopt Jim too. They are absolutely nothing like Jack or Dallas or any dog that’s gone before them in our lives. I still “see” Jack and Dallas in the house and backyard. And I tell Charlie and Leo about them. They don’t much care about my stories, but they love to run and play and snuggle. They’re both part of my heart now.
