Cathy and I had not been married very long before we
moved back into Linton from Terre Haute, where I attended college. We bought a new 14x70 mobile home, our very
first home together. We both decided
that we did not want any children at this point in our lives, but felt that
there would be nothing wrong with getting a dog to keep Cathy company when I
would be gone to classes at ISU. So when
we both had a free day we decided to go “dog looking”. When you live in a small town there are only
a few options when looking for a dog.
You either know someone whose dog had just had puppies, expectedly or
unexpectedly, or you checked out the local animal shelters. We chose the latter as we knew of very few
people that had dogs in the family way as of yet. In Greene County there was at the time a
system of having certain families keep strays and unwanted pets on their own
property. The humane society would then
send you to these people’s homes to see what animals were available. It was at one of these pet boarding
facilities that we found the dog that would become our companion for the next
10 years. There he was with his brothers
and sisters running among the chickens and other animals that inhabited that
particular pet farm. It was a little
difficult choosing which one to take, but he had some sort of quality that
stood out from the others. Too this day
I cannot remember what quality that was, maybe it was a mixture of fate and the
speed at which he approached us out of the pack, beating those chickens by a
good margin. You can’t tell much about a
dog when you only see them as a puppy and you only have the word of the people
that dropped him off as to what breed he may be, but we were assured that there
was some husky and something else in this puppy and that it would probably not
get too big. Well they were right on the
size, but as we found out later on, the parents were most likely a miniature
collie and a German shepherd. Cathy
carried the puppy like a mother caring her child back to the Toyota for our
short trip home. On the trip home we
discussed several training methods for raising the puppy. We never settled on one in particular, but
decided on several we were not going to do because of past failures each of us
witnessed in our short lifetimes.
Arriving home we proceeded to introduce the puppy to its new home,
thinking that this was probably the right thing to do, since we did just
extract the puppy from its only nuclear family it has ever known. The puppy settled right in and proceeded to
soil the carpeting. While Cathy and I
were cleaning the little gift up, we discussed what we should name our new family
member. After much discussion we settled
on “Falcon”. This came from the fact
that I have always liked Louis La’mour and his Sackett family in
particular. Falcon Sackett was the
father of Lando Sackett. This western
theme will continue through many of the names of future pets and children for
Cathy and me. Falcon then proceeded to
change both our lives. Before the pet we
had only each other to worry about, but now we had the added responsibilities
of caring for a pet. During this time I
worked at a local naval base as a computer programmer. My co-workers would often have to put up with
my stories about what Falcon had put Cathy and I through and had often
commented that after Cathy and I had our first child that my stories of Falcon
had somehow been replaced by stories on being a new parent. I guess they were right about the fact that I
did relate stories about Falcon like he was my child, but I have always felt
that having a pet is like having the responsibility of another life to look
after and care for. I have been asked
several times by friends thinking about becoming a parent and asking my opinion
on how it changed my life. I would
always respond that if they want to test being a parent they should go and get
themselves a puppy. For if you can’t
handle a puppy, then being a parent is ten times worse. They would look at me in somewhat of a shock,
but it is true and maybe the world would have less children from broken homes
if there was a law that forced couples to try this method first. It probably would have saved a lot of kids
from a lot of hurt, but I digress. Falcon grew and was fairly easy to house
break. We did have to sacrifice the
occasional shoe or piece of wall trim, but that was to be expected. He grew up to be a very pretty dog, he stood
about a foot and a half tall with a tan coat, a white front and a black tail
that would curl over his back, which is the reason he looked like a husky when
he was a pup. He was good tempered,
getting along with most everybody. Above
all else he was loving companion for Cathy and myself during the trying
getting-started years. He was three
years old when our first son was born and seven years old when our last son was
born. He took to them rather easily, but
they did not take to him as well as Cathy and I did, not having seen him grow
from a puppy, they were sort of overwhelmed by him when they were little and
never really bonded to him like they would our later dogs. I don’t really remember when, but sometime
when Falcon was about 3 or 4 Cathy decided to buy a poodle puppy that her
sister’s dog was going to give birth to.
I never really felt convertible with the decision to bring a new dog
into our somewhat small mobile home, but she assured me that she would use her
own money and that she would take care of it also. Not having the experience of a man married for
years and knowing when to follow his inner voice, I said yes. It was with that little word that we again
increased the size of our family by one, with one poodle named “Rowdy”. The western theme continued as this name had
been taken from the old Rawhide television show. Falcon and Rowdy seemed to get along
fine. Falcon lived through Rowdy’s puppy
stage and the constant need to be played with and even grew to like having Rowdy
around. Through this time Cathy and I
moved into our first real (non-mobile) home.
Which was my old home, having just bought it from my folks, who
conveniently bought our mobile home. The
dogs, the kids, Cathy and I all made the move without a hitch and settled into
our new home, which we are in today.
Pets are a funny thing, when they are young you are constantly taking
care of them and cleaning up after them.
When they get older you tend to treat them as furniture, only paying
attention to them when you need to and really not seeing them as you make your
way around the house. Until; the day
comes that every pet own should be told about, the day your constant companion
gets sick. We first noticed Rowdy’s eyes
getting cloudy little by little. The
doctor said that it was cataracts, and that pure bred dogs have that
problem. Faced with the dilemma of
having a blind dog was not an easy one, but Rowdy started to have seizures
also. The doctor indicated that they
were like epileptic seizures and that they would steadily get worse. One day Rowdy had one of his seizures at the
top of the basement stairs and fell down to the bottom. It was then that Cathy and I discussed the
option of having him put to sleep. We
did not like to talk about it, but we knew that it was for the best. This is where I should have listened to my
inner voice earlier, as Cathy said she could not take Rowdy to the vets, to get
this done and that I would have to do it.
I felt my stomach tightened at the thought of this, but knew that it had
to be done before Rowdy hurt himself worse and suffered even more. Cathy called the vet and asked them when I
could bring him down and they set up a time.
When the time approached Cathy picked up Rowdy and holding back her
tears she said her good-byes. The Kids
were another story as they were a little young to understand, but we did have
to talk to them about why Rowdy would not be around anymore. I then carried Rowdy out to the truck and
drove him down to the vet’s. During the
ride he would look up at me with the clouded over eyes and paw at my hand
resting on the seat. This did not make
my job any easier. Try as I might I
could not go through with it without crying in the vet’s office. When ask if they should dispose of the body,
I said “No”, as I believed I owed Rowdy a proper burial, even if it was only
out back of the house. With tears
streaming down my face I paid the vet and they gave me the body of Rowdy. I gently placed Rowdy in the truck bed and
drove him home. I retrieved a shovel out
of the garage and dug a hole in the back of the property. If the neighbors saw me do this they did not
say, but I can imagine I was a sight. I
dug and prayed for Rowdy, cried and dug, and generally made myself into a
bigger mess. Once the hole was dug, I
gently placed him into it and with a few more words of prayer I filled in the
grave. Once back in the house Cathy,
with tears in her eye ask me if it was done, I said “yes”, hating her for
bringing another dog into the house and for making me put him to sleep. I know now that this was just the pain at
losing a companion talking, and that she loved the dog more than I ever
did. Falcon noticed that his partner was
no longer around and if he showed any remorse I do not know, but I do remember
him looking around the house for him several days, but eventually he must have
sensed Rowdy being sick and understood that dogs do go away, even those that
you helped raise from a puppy.
Through the next several years the
kids grew and Falcon grew older and wiser.
Knowing when to play and when to stay away from a couple of growing
kids. He was a good watch dog and a
good listener when you had to talk and no one around to listen. He was a fearless dog, but had one thing that
always brought terror into him; lightening.
I think when he was a puppy a storm came upon us quicker than we
expected. Falcon was outside doing his
business and lightning struck close to the house. Since then Falcon would sense when a storm
would come and find a way to be either on your lap or under your feet until the
threat passed. He kept a close eye on
the kids when they played outside, but as the year progressed he played less
and less. I think he grew wiser knowing
when to really play and when to conserve his energy. He always met me at the door when I came home
from work, even though on some bad days I did not notice. It was that unnoticed loyalty that makes
having a pet something special.
One day Cathy and I noticed a spot
forming on his rear end that we thought we should discuss with the Vet. We made arrangements to take him one day for an
examination. The vet concluded that is
was a cyst and that some dogs get these when they get older and that an
operation would have to be done in order to remove it. Cathy and I decided to have this procedure
done and the vet removed the cyst. Only
he indicated that he did a good job in removing the cyst, but he could not
guarantee that they would not return. We
both listened to this with apprehension, remembering Rowdy’s seizures. Knowing that they would come again, but not
knowing when. I remember thinking that
having an operation on your dog is good, but when do you draw the line and say
that the money could be better spent somewhere else. Is it a sin to spend $175 on an operation
time after time, when you can barely save money for your kid’s college. This is another lesson that you have to learn
when owning a pet. You can get several
opinions from various people who own dogs, but none of them can relate to the
situation you find yourself in. The cyst
did come back and Cathy and I fretted over the situation again. This time though mom and dad knew what we
were going through and they offered to pay for half of the operation. We thought this over and accepted their offer. After the second operation the Vet indicated
that it was very evasive and that if he got another cyst that they could not
operate on him again as he would lose all muscle control in that region. I think this was God’s way of answering our
question earlier and we accepted the situation as just another trial in owning
a pet.
In 1993, Cathy and I decided to give
our 1941 house a complete face lift. We
proceeded to gut the house from top to bottom and have a complete remodel job
done. During this time Cathy, the kids
and I moved in with Cathy’s parents and Falcon moved in with my folks. Falcon really took to living with mom and dad
as he was older and enjoyed being a lap dog for older people. I think he got plenty of rest during those
days and even though he jumped for joy when we visited, he also enjoyed having
mom and dad’s sedate life style to contend with. No kids running around and yelling to be wary
of, only a couple who just loved to sit and pet him and praise him for being
such a good dog. We moved backed into
our new-old home in August of 1993. The
house finally felt like it was really mine, not just the house of my
parents. The house was expanded and
brought up to today’s code, for wiring, plumbing and insulation. Falcon took to it rather easily. He hesitated to explore the new house at
first. Looking for that smell that
should have been there but was not. He
had new rooms to explore and new sounds to get used too. All the stairs were redesigned to be less
steep and I think he appreciated that, what with getting older and all.
We were in the house about a year
when Cathy and I were awakened by Falcon.
He was lying on the floor and having what seemed to be convulsions. He shook and jerked through every effort of
ours to wake him. I then noticed that he
was forming at the mouth and decided to carry him into the bathroom. I lifted his shaking body and placed him on
the linoleum next to the stool. Cathy
and I discussed what could be the matter and we very concerned about the
foaming at the mouth. He then stopped
shaking and groggily looked about, but his look can only be described as
empty. Cathy and I both talked to him,
but he seemed not to know who we were or where he was. It was after a few minutes that he turned on
us. Without warning he leaped at me
while I was trying to get him to recognize us.
I stood back and retreated out the bathroom closing the door
behind. Cathy and I were both very
worried then, especially with the foaming and all. We decided to call my father and ask him to
come over and help. With what I can only
remember as a very disturbed voice, I woke mom and dad from a sound sleep. Dad took only a few minutes to come over and
Cathy and I filled him in on what happened.
Dad listened intently and then decided to try to talk to Falcon
himself. He opened the bathroom door and
to our surprise Falcon had managed to wedge himself behind the stool. Dad talked and Falcon only growled. Dad asked if he ate anything out of the
ordinary lately or if he picked up something from the yard. We replied that we did not think so, and Dad
then brought up the possibility that he could have been poisoned. Cathy and I both refused to believe that
possibility, but we were both concerned over what had happened to him. Dad and I then decided to cover Falcon with a
towel and carry him outside. This would be
better in case we had to take him to the vet or have him look at him. Cathy and I also were concerned about our
sons coming down the stairs and seeing him in that state. We managed to extract him from behind the
stool and carry him outside. I then hooked
his collar to the chain we had outside for him to run around on. We removed the towel and let him go. Falcon then proceeded to growl and snap at no
direction in particular. He then ran
across the yard until the chain came taught, where he was jerked on his
back. He then started the process over
again. We decided to wait until the
vet’s office opened and Dad would help me take him to get checked. As it was still 5:30 in the morning, we
decided to watch him and ensure that he did not hurt himself. Dad went back to the trailer to wait my call
and I sat down on the front porch to try to talk Falcon back to reality. It seemed that every time I spoke he would
become angrier, so I left him to him pain and went in the house to talk things
over with Cathy. She was very worried,
as was I, but there was not really anything we could do. I waited inside for as long as I could. I went to the porch to just sit and watch
Falcon. He was struggling with the chain
and running back and forth whenever he built his energy back up. On one trip across the lawn he snapped the
chain. As I watched him streak across
the lawn, I could only think of the neighbors.
I was very worried of a loose dog with possible rabies running amok in
the neighborhood. I grabbed the towel we
used and in my bare feet I streaked across the lawn behind him. I cannot attest to being a fast man, but when
your adrenaline is rushing the body can do many things. I caught up with him after what seemed like
hours and tackled him on mom and dad’s lawn.
He buckled under me, but I was able to place the towel over his head and
calm him down somewhat. Dad managed to
get me a rope and we tied up to the basketball goal that was bordering our
yard. I removed the towel and he tried
to leap at me then, so I decided to back off and let him calm down a
little. All during this time his eyes
showed nary a sign that there was anything behind them that remembered anyone
or anything. About 6:10 my Mom decided
to come over and as she passed Falcon on the lawn, she spoke to him. He turned his head and growled in her
direction. She was concerned and hurt as
Cathy and I was that he would not recognize her either. We stood out on the lawn and tried to speak
to him and I even inched closer to him to try to get the towel around him. Hoping that maybe if he was warmer he would
come out of whatever world he was in. It
was then that I noticed that he did not seemed to mind my touches so much and
that he even responded to them somewhat.
Mom said that he seemed to be calming down and it was as she spoke that
I noticed his eyes as he turned to me. I
thought he was going to leap at me, but his eyes seemed to come back into focus
and it was then that I knew he recognized me.
His tail started to wag and he tried to get closer to me, only the rope
was holding him back. Dad and Mom both
recognized that he was back and Cathy even waved from the house indicating she
saw what was going on also. I looked
down at my dog that has been with us for close to ten years and felt a wave of
relief that he would be OK, for now anyway.
It was not too long after the incident that Cathy and I had to face the
fact that Falcon was very ill. Having
gone through the painful process with Rowdy did not make it any easier to have
Falcon put to sleep. He was a great dog
and it was with many tears that we had him put to sleep. We buried him in the back yard with as much reverence
as we could and to this day I can never pass by the spot in the lawn without
thinking about how great a dog he was to a young couple starting out and to the
kids who thought he was part of the family.
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