There was Ben, Smoky, Oscar, Shadow, Sydney, Jayda, and now Bryce. It seems like a lot, especially since none lived to meet their successor. However, each of them was used or pre-owned, with unknown dog years on the meter, when we found them. Or...you get the idea.
I'm not one to rhapsodize about where they are now, but Christmas brings each one back in a unique way. 'Probably your past dogs live there, too, in memory.
The trigger to this pleasant procession begins when I unpack and hang the photo ornament of when I was the SPCA Santa, and my wife brought Sydney the Aussie to see Santa. That was easy to remember: Sydney knew me, under that sweaty, reeking costume, and thus Sydney did not pee on me as the camera flash went off. Many other dogs did, though. Hence the reek.
Sydney was a rebound dog. She was in the Yolo County CA pound, and a reporter friend called as she was perusing page proofs. She saw the “dogs-available” listings to be in the week's paper. There was a big hole in our lives then. A terrified Sydney meekly left the pound, got in the van's passenger seat, and slowly began filling that hole. She never stopped filling it, for all her years forward. She thought the van's passenger seat was hers, and was greatly troubled each time my wife attempted to use it. She finally gave up (my wife), and sat in the back right seat. The seat of rank, she said. Where the generals sat. Ha!, said Sydney, riding shotgun with great authority.
One of our dogs loved presents. Or rather, the unwrapping of presents. The suspense, the sheer joy of tearing paper apart with tooth and nail, finally to reach that squeaky toy, or my new electric drill, it made no difference. Pure joy to do, and for us to watch.
Shadow loved our cats. Every Christmas morning, the cats gathered with us near the Christmas tree. It might have been those new catnip toys. Shadow didn't care about the tree or presents. Her delight was that all three of her cats were there, too. Each got their present, a Shadow bath. They sat purring while she licked their faces, cleaned their ears, and nuzzled each one.
Oscar was a basset. Christmas afternoon meant a long, slow walk in the woods, where cottontail rabbits abound. It was a chance for Oscar to exercise his great nose and his bass voice. As dogs go, Oscar went at about idle. The rabbits didn't really run, but hopped ahead occasionally, just enough to keep out of sight of Oscar, who thought he was in high gear. After a few circuits, Oscar would rejoin us, pleased once again to have kept the wildlife from attacking his meal ticket.
Jayda liked caroling, and wore her Santa hat jauntily, as we serenaded neighbors on Christmas Eve. She came to us through Northern California Collie Rescue. She was tri-colored, but a smooth coat, like a beagle. A disreputable breeder was encouraged to quit breeding in California, and she dumped her surplus dogs in the pound. Jayda had spent her life on concrete and behind a chain link fence. We taught her to jump, but she hated the beach, and refused to swim. She gently herded our roaming wild turkeys, when I wasn't looking. She had been partially debarked in her earlier life in the breeder's pen. Alas, that scar tissue hastened her demise last year, from repeated aspirational pneumonia. Definitely ours was her first Christmas, and it came with presents for her, including a really snazzy red raincoat, now a hand me down to Bryce, who came to us at six years.
This is Bryce's first Christmas with us, but he came with presents. His previous owner was quite ill for a year, terminal, and had packed all six years of Bryce's favorite toys in what looked to be an old French Horn case. The case was to go with Bryce when he got a new, stable home. It was obvious Bryce had not seen them since the lady succumbed six months ago, and it was an emotional moment when we opened the case for him. The sight of his favorite things, and the scent of his lost love excited and pleased him so much. We wished we could know his thoughts, but maybe we do. You don't need words for that.
We put the tree up last night, and were kinda worried that Bryce, a very territorial tricolored Aussie male with very healthy kidneys, might mark this tree for Australia, or whatever. So far, so good. Bryce is nudging me as I type this. It is pouring rain, here on the Mendocino coast, and he reminds me that he has a really nice hand me down red raincoat, and his favorite leash from a life ago. A walk in the rain beckons.
I think he'll like Christmas, too.
May you, and your dogs past and present, enjoy your memories.