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Dog Bob

And then there were four …

I had to take Kesey to the vet today to have him put down. He’s been going downhill for the past several months. He kept falling down and often wasn’t able to get to his feet. His hips were in horrible shape. When he stopped eating, I knew it was time.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

The folks at the vet must have thought I was nuts. This 6-4, 260 pound guy bawling his eyes out over a poor old collie. They were very kind, offering to send me the bill rather than make me stand at the front counter with tears in my eyes as they ran my credit card. He went peacefully, and before I took him in, I drove him around for about 45 minutes with all the windows down. He even managed to get to his feet for a short while, sticking his long narrow muzzle out the window and reveling in the cool April morning.

Kesey was a great dog. We only had him for two years. I brought him home after someone dumped him up at Melton Hill Park. But they were two good years. He fit in well with the rest of the pack and filled Bubba’s role as the elder male. I’ll miss the old guy.

Goodbye, old man. And thanks for being a loyal, devoted friend.

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Dog Bob Transcendental Bob

A day at church

Xena, Ozzy and I headed to the park extra early on Sunday. It was still dark, but as soon as we drove into the park I knew something was up.

It was infested with boy scouts from Oak Ridge.

But they were all still sleeping soundly. Xena and Ozzy ran up to sniff a bundle of blankets and a sleeping bag, but it didn’t even stir.

We set off on a path that was thick with honeysuckle and the occasional stumbumbling bees lumbering to life in the first light of day, trying to shake off a treacly hangover. It made me think of Yeats’ incredible lines in The Lake Isle of Innisfree:

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

I remember once trying to explain this walk that is my church. The two youngsters who were dogging my steps as surely as Xena and Ozzy that day looked perplexed. Church to them involved walls and a roof, preachers and a congregation. But after a moment, they smiled and understood.

Thoreau would be proud.

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Dog Bob

Curse of the bloodsucking ticks

I took the dogs to the lake this morning for the first time in several weeks. It felt great. I don’t realize how much I miss those early jaunts until I’ve skipped a few weeks.

We couldn’t go last week because Xena had Lyme’s disease. After I returned from a trip to San Antonio, she was crying and whining every time she got to her feet. One vet visit, a blood test and $250 later, we found out she had Lyme’s. This is the second time a tick-borne disease has hit one of my dogs. Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever almost killed poor Bubba 8 or so years ago.

Thanks to antibiotics, Xena has recovered, as terrified rabbits at Melton Hill Lake can attest …