I am not much of an animal person. Being raised up in the city was not a place for animals. When I married into a dairying family there were plenty of animals, but none were in the house type of animals. To me, every animal had its purpose including the sheepdog which herded in the cows each night for milking.
I believe animals teach children responsibility, love, companionship and especially dogs and cats give a child someone to cuddle with and talk to when moments in their day get a little rough and with that in mind, my husband and I provided the "where with all" for our five kids to each go through their various animal stages and once the kids were off to college and their adult lives our personal existence did not include pets.
Until and there is always an "until" our youngest son was going through a very messy divorce. He had a female Doberman named Chocolate that was about 7 or 8 years old and he asked me to feed and water her during the week at our home in Kentucky while he was settling his affairs and finishing up his work in Indiana . I agreed because he had a barn with his house which was only about 1000 feet from our house and he came back to Kentucky each weekend.
Chocolate entered our life under those conditions. She was a good dog, calm, big, clean, and beautiful when all of a sudden she "adopted" me. Since we have Mexican tile floors I did not mind her coming in and out of the house and soon she was sleeping inside whenever our son was out of the state.
In about 7 months he finally moved to Kentucky for good and he would have to call her down to his house every evening because she was always up here. Our son used to kid me when I would say call your dog and he would answer back that is no longer my dog, it is your dog. This went on for about a year or so until our son unexpectedly passed away and all of the sudden we really did have a dog.
This dog was a "needy" dog as she really loved being loved and Chocolate, after our son's death, for some reason became very attached to me. If I was out, she was out. If I was in she was in. If I was in the art studio she would sit outside the open door and if I was working at the computer she would sit beside my chair, all 90 pounds of her. She slept at the floor at the end of my bed. While watching TV she would lie on the floor just under the TV.
When she wanted to go out during the time I was painting or typing she would put her large snout under my left arm and throw it up in the air. If I did not pay attention to her right off Chocolate would do that several times until I got up and let her out. Once she had completed her business she would come to the back patio door and bark loudly twice to be let in. She had her quirks as we all do. She liked to be let out the front door through the stained glass school and let back in through the back patio door.
She never left the property and when we left for a village run or a day trip she would wait under the carport and the minute she heard the car come in she would run down to greet us and she was beyond herself with excitement when we alighted from the car. I found myself really bringing back "doggie bags" for a dog. She was the only dog we knew of who would stand stock still while you washed and rinsed her down with the hose.
Oh, she knew how to worm her way into our hearts. She did not like it when we would go away for a few days and would have to board her with the vet. She knew the word vet and I could swear she even knew it when we spelled it because she would start to cry and cry the whole time I was on the phone making her reservations and stop the minute I hung up. She would go quietly to the vet, but when we picked her up she was so happy to see us, so happy to come home and would stick to me like glue for the next 4 or 5 days.
Our lives happily went on together for another 3 years until one morning I awoke to her crying and whimpering. Chocolate was now about 10 years old and I found her to be completely paralyzed from mid body down her whole hind quarters. Carl and I (in our mid-70s) had all we could do to get this 90 pound incapacitated dog into the car and take her to the vet who we got out of his bed at 6 in the morning.
The vet said there was nothing he could do for her that would not last only a couple of days and we decided it was time to let her go. I never in my whole life thought Carl and I would be crying in a vet's office.
It has been about 4 months now since Chocolate left a huge hole in our lives. We will never replace her, but we will never forget all she gave to us. We cannot drive in the driveway without mentioning her. We look for her occasionally without realizing it.
We miss you Chocolate.
