I’m a firm believer God put dogs on this Earth because man needed a steadfast compassionate companion. Hence, the term “man's best friend” was coined. Growing up, I was raised with kitties. Sunshine, my gray American Shorthair lived to be well over 15 years old. That cat tolerated everything. She was my best friend, let me dress her up in clothes, and learned to love riding in the basket that was held on with hose clamps of my brother’s hand-me-down bicycle. I remember Sunshine at our farm in Litchfield before we moved to Pleasanton in 1997; I was a first grader, and Sunshine passed away in 2010, when I was in college. I remember mom calling me to let me know it wouldn’t be long; and I stopped by after waitressing at the local bar late at night to give my childhood kitty my goodbyes and the last snuggle. When I married Tyler, cats weren’t his thing. In February of 2011 we got our Simon cat, and shortly after, our golden retriever, Shelby dog. By April of the next year, we realized our Shelby needed a friend. Tyler and I, wanting a beagle, took to the internet to find our perfect companion for Shelby. We found our “beagle” in Hastings: a tri-color coon dog mix. I remember when meeting him for the first time, Tyler asked, “are you sure you can handle a dog this big?” “Of course. Look at how lovable and cute he is.” The parking lot of the animal shelter should’ve been our first sign of the “free spirit” we had just adopted. This 8 month old pup couldn’t even figure out how to jump into the car. What?! When we got home, Shelby wasn’t sure of what we had done. She wasn’t sure of sharing her territory, her toys, or her stuffed animals. However, weeks went by, and these two young pups learned how to tear apart the house in ways that I couldn’t have imagined. I recall getting home one evening from waitressing, exhausted, at 1.30am and finding my brand new Victoria’s Secret bra chewed into two pieces, surrounded by the contents of the trash can and one entire roll of Brawny paper towels, ripped and shredded into pieces of confetti, ready to celebrate with when Mom walked through the door. We also learned of our Boomer’s other quirks: we had to teach him how to go up the stairs, he wouldn’t whine at the door when he needed to go out (he wasn’t very house trained at first), and if we made a noise just right, he would cock his head to the side, and his big floppy ears that could pick up radio signals would droop down in cuteness. Boomer was accident prone. I don’t know how many vet bills were spent on that dog. Early one morning before school, I let Boom out like usual, and he came back all shook up with a gnarled, bloody leg. He had gotten hit by a car, and I was late to school getting him stitched up with a cone of shame. Later on, we tried having a tumor removed from his front leg, as he was a young 3 year old dog then, but it was too interwoven with his muscle, and amputation was the best option for cure. We decided against it, and his tumor steadily grew, but never impeded his love of running. SQUIRREL! One simple word. Not squid, squall, squish, or square. “Squirrel!” And our Boom dog would check every house window or tree in the block at the drop of a hat. Squirrels and other fluffy critters that moved were his passion; although his baying hound dog bark always spooked them off before he got out the door of the house. Our Boom. He wasn’t bright, he was clumsy, and he was downright naughty sometimes. But you remember man's best friend? What makes a dog “man’s best friend?”
Man’s best friend knows when you need him most, without prompt. Boomer first left his significant mark on my heart in May of 2013 when Tyler and I experienced a miscarriage. We weren’t very far along; 8 weeks. Still, as any mama who has gone through a miscarriage may know, the mental and physical pain is so hard to bear on your own, and if you had all the support in the world, you still feel empty and lost. Boomer laid in bed with me while I grieved; his kind eyes looking at me with his head on my hip. He knew something was wrong; he sensed it, and he was completely content spending the day by my side. Man’s best friend seeks comfort from his humans he trusts most. Boomer searched for security from us whenever he heard the “emergency alert system” indicating a thunderstorm 50 miles away. It could be sunny, 75°, with not a cloud in sight, and Boom knew a storm was on its way from the warning tones. He stayed close to us; snuggled up on my lap, or under foot. Man’s best friend loves his family unconditionally, even the little creatures. When our 2 boys come into our lives, my mother warned me that dogs could become jealous. This absolutely wasn’t the case. Boomer took to it to love his two new tiny family members, and never growled or showed his teeth when either boy pulled themselves to stand, using him as their support. He played hide and seek with Easton, and loved playing fetch. He slept at the foot of our bed on his dog bed every night, and napped with whoever was willing on the couch. He loved being with his family. We lost our Boom this May. Countless times I cursed that dog for his quirks, clumsiness, and his obsession with running the town. Our “high on life” hound always kept us on our toes. Saying goodbye to Boom was tough. Tougher than saying goodbye to my Sunshine cat. Boomer inspired me to live life to the fullest, and love unconditionally. Man’s best friend left an impact on my heart that never fathomed to exist in my mind before having dogs. Rest easy, Boom. Keep chasing those squirrels. Man's best friend doest stop his job once he's left this Earth; he continues to watch over and protect his family long after he's gone. It's an unconditional forever love.
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Kathryn HollandWife. Mother. Teacher. Lifelong student. Archives
March 2022
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