In honor of National Dog Day yesterday, it got me thinking
about how I can trace the stages of my life via all the dogs in my life. Here
goes…
Sheba: The early years
Sheba was ultimate rescue dog. A shepherd/collie mix that we
found in a shelter in KC right before moving to the
hills of Arkansas in the early ’70s. Rumor has it she climbed to the top of the
pile of the litter and my brother, Chris, picked her out. She meant something different to all four of
us as kids. My brothers took her squirrel hunting; I loved the hikes in the woods she
would lead me on. She tolerated--but my Dad did not-the occasional dress-up days. However, she was patient and never, ever said a peep. Moreover, Sheba was brilliantly smart. She once caught a
rabbit and brought it home to a wounded stray dog I was caring for at the time. She actually had empathy for the stray dog! She also traveled with us on vacations to visit my Dad both in Chicago and
California. She was a protector and nice to have by my
side during some lonely times as well. We lived a great childhood, largely because
Sheba was in it.
Tipsy: My first dog
Tipsy was also a big part of my youth. She was a black lab
mix with white on the tips of her toes. We had her for a few months and then
one summer day she just vanished from the farm. We looked everywhere. Fast forward
to April Fool’s Day she returned home. Just showed up and all was good in the
world again. She was my first dog that belonged to me and I was hooked.
CoCo and her
boys: My formative years
Not only did I have
Sheba and Tipsy, but I had toy poodles in my youth. CoCo, a tiny, champagne-colored toy Poodle, was supposed to be mine but ended up being my Mom's dog.
I remember when she was a puppy; I carried her with me in my coat
pocket. When she got older, she would
bite my face. Anyway, she had two puppies—BamBam
and PomPom. I loved those white fur
balls. They were lively, friendly and wanted to be with me, unlike CoCo. Sadly, we had to give them away when I moved
from Arkansas to Kansas City. Letting them go hurt.
Lilli: Growing up
In my chaotic college years I decided to adopt a pure-bred
Siberian husky. Maybe not the best decision since these dogs require space (I lived in a tiny house in downtown
Columbia, MO) and copious amounts of exercise (my life was busy with work,
full-time college and raising a 6-year old). Somehow, beautiful blue-eyed Lilli
came into our lives and survived—she even got hit by a car once in Columbia and escaped from us for two
days in Arkansas during a Thanksgiving trip. To this day, Lilli is the only dog
I have had to put down. Another life
lesson provided by a wonderful dog.
Rufus: All grown up
Rufus changed everything. He was definitely the dog that represents more of my adult years and he was Casey's first dog. We picked him out because he was the only puppy out
of the 8 or 9 in the litter that would go back and forth between the two sets
of pups: ones who were hiding under the porch and the ones who were playing in
the yard. It took Casey forever to name him.
I recall he was Sargent for a day and then Duke, typical German Shepherd dog names. But he finally settled on
Rufus (partly named after a band we liked in Columbia) and it stuck. He was
close to the best dog anyone could ask for. He obeyed, protected, played
and loved. One drawback: he didn't care for other dogs so he had some battle scars extraordinaire. But
he was a gentle soul to us. Seemed like he could read my mind. I recall watching him kick his soccer ball around the backyard and I would think, “How can I even imagine
life without him?” He was so content with his life; I needed to be too. I had many more chances to see him play soccer. In November 2007, we lost Rufus at age 11 to cancer. The sadness I felt that night is
only rivaled by the immense grieve I felt when my brother and father left this earth.
Cheer: Settling in
I had always wanted an Australian Shepherd since my days of
showing horses. Aussies were typically at the shows and always looking so "on top of it." So when I decided to get
another dog after Lilli was gone, I looked around for Aussie puppies on the
internet. One day (at work) I stumbled on a photo of the cutest puppy ever; I mean ever. It’s
funny because the minute I walked into the Aussie breeder’s house in Drexel, MO, and
this cutest puppy ever saw me, she never
left my side and has been my loyal girl ever since. There are a lot of Cheer stories to tell. They
involve running the streets of Stilwell; eating BBQ ribs at Stilwell Smokehouse; going missing and
coming home with a haircut; and going missing on Halloween for 20 hours (the longest night of Dick Parker’s life); she traveled over 12 miles trying to find me but was going the wrong way. Cheer-- aka the best disc golf dog ever-- hates Frisbees and never played ball a day in her life. What she has done is spent long hours monitoring, tracking and circling her family; keeping everyone in line. It's her mission in life. And, let me go on record to say, no one has ever been more dedicated to that job than Cheer Cheer.
Duma: Life gets easier
How to describe meeting Duma for the first time? We said, “Oh,
look at that long haired, laid back, hippie puppy.” Let's get him. He didn't retrieve during his test either. We
thought, “He won’t be much of a Frisbee dog.” It didn't matter. We wanted him. We couldn't
wait to get Paxico Duma Parker Pearce to his new home after we picked him up from the breeder in Abilene,
KS on Easter Sunday, 2007. Duma is the sweetest angel of an animal I have
ever known. The dog doesn't understand how to be aggressive, mean, threatening
or even protective for that matter. He takes a treat with gentleness and manners that Martha Stewart would endorse. Unlike Rufus, however, Duma offers no protection or safety other
than he is a big, fluffy, white German Shepherd dog. Sometimes people are intimidated by him, which makes me smile. Lover not a fighter, Duma fills his day
with fun. The eternal puppy, he loves Frisbees, his kitties (especially
Isabel who he’s raised from a small baby), going swimming in Hurley’s pond, going to the disc golf park with Daddy, going to the puppy park, short car rides and his sisters. Life got
better, felt more complete, when we brought that fluffy Easter bunny home.
Lola: Expanding the family
Finally, the baby of the family came along in 2012. The two-year old, 30-pound, ball of wiggle I still refer to as "the puppy" shines a light on all around her. Prior to finding Lola, I had joked many times that Duma needed a sidekick, a pal he could hang with (originally supposed to be a boy dog since he has all sisters). But it was mostly
just talk; Dick would always remind me that, “We don’t need three dogs.” One weekend, while I was playing in a pool
tournament and he was a disc golf tournament, he sends me a photo of a litter
of pups that they were giving away at his event. Well, my immediate reaction
is: we are getting one. He says, no but I pursued. We have to adopt one since they were rescued from the Swope Park disc golf course, right? So we did. We ended up naming
her Lola after my grandmother. It was kismet. Meant to be in our lives. She’s sweet and affectionate. Tough but not a bully. She knows one trick: butt up. And, most importantly, gives more kisses
than anyone I've ever known. We almost lost her one January morning when, as a puppy, she
chewed through an extension cord. Lucky Lola made it through with no battle scars. It so funny how she loves to sun
bathe almost every day on the back deck. It can be 100 degrees out and she wants to sit in the sun. Drink it in, sunshine girl.
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