Through the years of my life I’ve known some pretty good dogs. My first canine companion was a Collie named Pepper, given to me by my uncle when I was about four years old. The latest we now have is a really good (and big!) dog named Ruby, a Black Lab mixed with “something else.” Before her was one of my favorites, a Lab/Border Collie mix, we named Maggie.
We came by Maggie through a friend of my parents-in-law, who raised registered Labrador Retrievers through his prized pedigreed female. She escaped her confines one time and mated with a Border Collie nearby and then had a litter of “useless” pups that the owner was giving away. It was about that time in the late 1990’s that we had lost another family dog. Upon hearing of it, my father-in-law called and asked if we wanted one of the pups from his friend’s litter and we said yes.
It so happened that we were having a family reunion in Maggie Valley, North Carolina, that summer and they brought the female pup, about six weeks old, along with them. She thus got her name, Maggie, from the place where she became part of our family.
She quickly became a favorite with all of us. Everyone in the family thought that she was really special, but I think she and I had a special bond. For some reason she really liked to hang out with me. She loved to go with me on my daily jogs until her age and a torn ligament prevented her. Even then she would still whine to go as I walked out the door. We also kept a horse at a farm near where we lived and she eagerly went there with me every time she could. Many a time she would trot along with me as I rode horseback on trails in South Carolina.
Retrieving was in her nature and she would fetch just about anything tossed for her. However, she had a peculiar penchant for rocks. For some reason she loved to pick them up in her mouth and drop them at our feet and wait for us to throw them. No matter how far we tossed the rock or how hidden it would be in the grass or among other stones, she would always find the the exact rock and happily bring it back to us.
Maggie was also the smartest and most obedient dog I’ve ever known. She hated to displease us and would hang her head if anyone said a firm word to her. From the very beginning she amazed us by never eating a snack or plate of food on the floor until we gave her permission to do so. We never taught this to her. She just did it.
During the latter years of her life I moved my office to our home. Maggie would regularly come into my study and curl up under my desk (as pictured here) near my feet and contentedly nap while I did my work. During hot weather she would move right outside my study door, still within sight of me, and lie on the tiles where it was cooler. In her dozing she would often dream, emitting muffled barks and moving her legs as if she was running. It was one of those afternoon dreams that inspired me to write the following:
Old Dog Dreams
Maggie, lying by my study door
In the afternoon on the cool tile floor
Lost in old dog dreams,
Barking muffled,
Feet a’ churning,
Something in her sleep she’s chasing.
Makes me wonder if her dream was
Of some threat she drove away,
Or some squirrel she finally caught,
Or something else escaping her,
Leaving desire that came to naught.
She wakes with groaning yawn
And fur full of sprinkled gray,
Gray that has chased youth away.
Not much more does she have of time,
Like other gray haired ones
In these days of our lives,
Dozing and dreaming,
Losing memories of an hour past
But full of history long ago,
Some good, and some regrets.
These dreamers remind that comes a day
When, too, my youth will fly away.
Slow will be my moving,
Hard my hearing,
Cloudy my thinking,
Dim my sight,
With dreams by day
And dreams by night.
Makes me ponder if, when I’m an old “dog”
Dozing in my afternoon chair,
With mane full of gray hair,
Moaning in my sleep
With limbs a ’twitching,
Will my dreams be filled with joy
Over deeds fulfilled that I have seen
Or lament about things that might have been?
Will I look back with regret
In my striving to win The Prize
Or wake and smile
Over old dog dreams realized?
Maggie’s been gone for several years now. I still remember her with great fondness and her “old dog dreams” still cause me to ponder the questions posed above, especially as the calendar recently turned over another year for me. Though my “mane” is already full of gray, I’m not yet close to being confined to dozing in my chair all afternoon. I’m still chasing dreams with eyes wide open.
My hope and prayer is that they won't be for naught, but that when those days finally come when I am limited to dozing in my afternoon chair, I will smile in my sleep over dreams realized.
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