(Sarah Jane would have loved Cujo and Max and all the other pups we brought into our home and hearts.)
If you’ve owned a few dogs and cats over the years, and some of them have gone on to the Rainbow Bridge, you’ve probably seen a television commercial or two that brings back the memory of your dearly-departed four-legged buddy. We’ve seen a few ads lately that remind us of a couple of our lovable mutts.
One of our favorite dogs was Cujo, our Saint Bernard-mix. What a character she was, and not just because she was afraid of storms and firecrackers.
Hubby loved throwing food in the air just to see Cujo miss it. Sometimes it landed right atop her furry head, and most times she would seem unaware she had a piece of cheese just inches from her mouth. One of us had to pluck the food off her head and feed it to her. It never ceased to be funny.
With Max, our Malamute-mix, we had to be very, very careful. That long nose, sharp eyes and even sharper teeth were a lethal combination to any human hand that ventured too close while holding food. After she sunk her doggy fangs into hubby’s hand twice because he pulled a chocolate candy bar out of her mouth, we resorted to tossing her food from a safe distance for a while but I never gave up. Eventually Max could gently retrieve food from my outstretched hand. I felt like I won a prize.
Sarah the pup is another animal altogether. She is by far the biggest dog we’ve ever had. As she’s walked around the neighborhood, folks stop to talk to her and her master, drivers crane their necks to stare and one time a car full of young ladies yelled out, “Hey! Is that a Marley dog? It is! Hey!” I’m not sure what they expected Sarah to do, but she just kept her steady walking pace while sniffing the ground and trying to ingest whatever she could swallow before getting caught.
The weather has turned nice, so the dog is outside a good part of the day. That allows hubby and I to sit comfortably at the kitchen table and we’re able to eat slowly - our whole meal. Usually the pooch has her heavy head resting on our leg, staring up with sad brown eyes. Once she gets a bite from one of us, she immediately scurries around to beg from the other one. I’m sure we’re breaking some iron-clad rule by feeding the dog at the table but it’s our house, and our rules. Besides, if Sarah is nothing else, she’s loyal to those who let her lick the cold creamy part of a delicious Dilly Bar.
As we watch the TV ads that give us a glimpse at the pets we once had, I find myself wanting to try to replace Cujo and Max. This time, I’d want a dog that isn’t afraid of loud noises, and one who wouldn’t remove a finger or two as we offered food. But if we could have back the same ones we lost, who had the same idiosyncrasies, we’d take them in a heartbeat. After all, those are the dogs who stole our hearts in the first place.
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