Just Another Big Black Dog

The rescue people call them BBD's, Big Black Dogs. Nobody wants them at the shelters. They are neither pretty, nor cute. Emmy Lou Harris wrote a song for them, the Big, Black Dogs. I call them—Throwaways.







I avoid going to my veterinarian's office on Fridays, since that's when they put the kill-pound dogs down. But, here I was on a Friday and the vet said to me, “I have a dog in there. I am going to put him down in 15 minutes. Go look at him, take him if you want him.” I went into the back to find a huge dog stuffed into a large cage. He was 6 months and 90#'s. I grabbed him by the scruff and said, “Come' on, Bud, you're coming with me,” and named him Jasper. He was thrown away because he was so big and clumsy and knocked everyone down. I had to keep a stick cross-way between me and him or he would knock me down. In his little mind, if he could just get close enough he would be loved and not thrown away. He grew to 140#'s and had a jaw of 10”. His tail knocked a lamp off the table. I got him his own twin-size mattress, for his bones you see, and kept it next to where I slept. When he was 2 years old, he cried in pain from his joints. I kept him out of pain, mostly with naturals, for 9 years.

He was a purebred Lab and if there was any doubt of that, I learned it one crisp Fall day. Geese often pass overhead and Jasper paid no  attention to their calls, but this is no duck migration lane. I had the door open bringing firewood into the house when the sound of ducks could be heard in the shortening of the day. Jasper ran outside, lurching towards the sky and answering the call of his fathers. I got him at 6 months, he had not been trained to ducks.

One summer's day, as I was in the kitchen with my back to the door, a fragrance both light and lovely entered the room. Jasper had just come thru the giant-sized pet door, which was too small for him, and he smelled of 'sunshine and dust'. I smiled. He had been doing his favorite thing, lying in the new-mowed, late summer grass, with his back in the warm dust. When I did a remodel, I had a double-sized shower put in just to bath my Big Dog. I designed a hip support for him in case he needed it and bought an SUV for him that would make his getting in and out easier. He only got to ride in it once. He went suddenly. I suppose it was a BBD heart attack. We didn't get to say goodbye.

A year later, to the week, maybe to the day, he came back to me.
It was in the Magic Hour, just before dawn. I was lightly asleep when my spirit popped to a most lovely fragrance of 'sunshine and dust', Jasper had entered the room. He had been doing his favorite thing, lying in warm sunshine and dust. He came for a hug. I saw, as it were an out of body experience, he put his huge head on my chest (I have a picture of him with my daughter doing just that.), and I watched as my soul's head and arms rose up to hug him back. At least it wasn't a wedgie, which he was fond of doing to myself and friends—gets himself petted that way. I cried and cried, then I knew I just had to touch another BBD. I was about to lose my medium-sized BBD, Ernie, and I knew it would not at all play out well.

I found myself looking online for another soul mate. I showed up at the kill-pound to look at a 1-1/2 year old Dane-Lab. He leapt up and grabbed my arm, “Please take me with you!”. I let him hold on to me since an astute dog will use his paws and mouth like he sees you using your hands. He was a cat killer and biter since he was accustomed to getting his own way or moving down the road again.

Because he was trying so hard to speak, I said to the staff, “He's going to be really easy.” I was told he didn't have a name and didn't like the one he came with. I named him 'Roscoe'. It stuck like glue.

I could have called him 'Ugly' and it would have been the same beautiful name to him. BBD's are desperate to be loved. He kept me awake for hours every night holding onto me. My hands and arms were bitten and bleeding for weeks. He was trying to hold onto me and never, never let me go. At first I had to keep him locked in the house when gone. The second time he saw I was about to leave again without him, he screamed, “NOOOOOOO!” He learned that
word from his other name, “NoNo, bad dog!” His spirit then said,
“My world is perfect with you here.”

I have had many BBD's, some medium-sized, some large, or super-sized. Big Dog came down the road and decided to move in with me, mostly Lab but short muzzled. He didn't get along well enough with the other animals, so I took him to the pound. Two weeks later, I got up in the night, and gently put my feet on the bodies in the room so as not to step on them, and counting each one. There was one too many, and the hair was sleek—not like the Border Collies or other Labs. I said, “No! It can't be!”. (Curse those pet doors!)

It was! Big Dog had come back 12 miles to me and he had only been with us a couple of weeks, how did he do that? So, I took him to be neutered and kept him. That November, my Border Collie, Maggie Mae, came running into the house in terror and dropped down as low as she could get to the floor next to me. She told me that she had seen it all. The flashes of lights, the horrible sounds, the screaming. “It was horrible! It was horrible!” All of my Labs--Big Dog, Bertie, and Jack had been shot by the hunters. I never went looking for them because Maggie Mae told me what happened.

Then, in the Magic Hour, I was lightly asleep, when something hit me on the arm. Big Dog had come back to me, and not 12 miles this time. He came to show me how much fun he was having and that he didn't have to have the shots for his joint pain anymore. His big tongue was hanging out and his head lollying back and forth. Little Bertie the Chocolate Lab, was scared and in the middle, she was confused. Jack, the American Yellow Lab, was just going along. I saw all three of them. Me and Big Dog heard a noise. It was a thundering noise. Big Dog looked over his shoulder and we saw the sheep thundering through. We had hundreds of sheep on the farm over the years and, of course, you have natural deaths. Big Dog turned his head and ran off with the other two in tow. Here, dog chase sheep. There, sheep chase dog. Kinda funny. “Thru a looking glass darkly, but then face to face. . .”

Roscoe quickly learned that we don't kill cats here, though I am still
working on the, “I'm better than you,” part of it towards the cats. It took a year to get totally past the biting when he needs to get his nails cut or other things he is not approving of. A steady, gentle pressure on the throat and nostril, along with genuinely not hurting them will convince them you are not up to no good. Several months after bringing Roscoe home, I was walking him on harness and lead at night out behind my work. I fell into a hole in the dark. Roscoe first laughed, "HARF!", then in panic shook his head, “Not right! Not right!” then the light bulb came on. He dived his muzzle three times beneath my arm to lift me. On the third one, I got up and he knew he'd be ok. He was just somebody that needed somebody and I was just somebody that needed somebody.

We met at the Lonely Hearts Club.. . . .

This dog Roscoe, this big, black, ugly, long-legged dog that scarcely
would have had a chance, tells me every day that he is having the best day of his life. And, the next day he tells me again, even though he can scarcely remember the day before was the best day of his life. He and the Black and Tan were out running during the night.

At 8 a.m., he came running in through the pet door looking for me to tell me that he just had the best day of his life (again). The corners of his mouth were pointed up towards his ears, his head high, and as if this weren't enough, he curled up his lip into an even bigger smile—and, with a laugh, ran back outside.

I went outside to watch the show. They have no language, so their
language comes out in various ways. Exploding with joy, he ran a
racetrack around the house, then circles in the yard, jumping up onto
the deck where I was standing—smiling, laughing, poking me.

Just another Big Black Dog.
Something no one would have wanted.

The Portal

 

There is a Portal. The Door is Jesus.
Thru The Portal, as it were a looking glass,
We see Eternity. There our beloved pet
Roams free.  There we will be united.
Here they return when our Love is open
to wait for you in The Magic Hour.