That Old Feeling
On a spring day back in May 1996, I began a very wonderful, sometimes frustrating, often challenging and extremely fulfilling relationship with an adorable little black puppy I named Riley. I met him in the airport in North Dakota. I could only see his sweet little furry face and his white little stripe on his head. The man that was holding him was walking away from me and his little head was looking over the man’s shoulder. Our eyes met and immediately I knew I loved him and we were in for some fun adventures together. When I got him home, I couldn’t believe how smart he was! He was potty trained within days, and I remember thinking, “This is gonna be so fun and easy!”
As a puppy, he was very active and kept me on my toes doing what I figured were normal puppy things. Early on, I discovered that he could really be a pain in the neck. Once, as I was doing one of my least favorite jobs of picking up poop in the yard, he ran at me and pulled down my shorts in the middle of the back yard. I stood there with my shorts around my ankles, red faced and mad as ever. I scolded him as I pulled my shorts up and got back to work. Again, he ran at me and grabbed my shorts. This time I was prepared and held my shorts up, and, just before I yelled, “RILEY! BAD DOG!” I heard my favorite shorts ripping. Even angrier than the first time, I moved towards him to really punish him. He was hiding in the corner of the yard under the lilac bush and I looked at those beautiful brown eyes and that too cute face and I felt a smile creep in. The little booger just wanted me to play with him! Next thing I knew I was laughing thinking about how silly I must have looked with pooper scooper in hand and shorts around my ankles. Picking up dog poop was never the same again. It was always an adventure, and yes, I would often feel the pain in my neck flare up. And as much as I didn’t like the job, every time I did it I always smiled and at times even laughed out loud thinking about the time my little puppy exposed my underwear for the whole world to see.
Then there was the toilet paper. Man, that puppy loved getting into the toilet paper. The pure joy of grabbing the end of the paper from the roll and having a seemingly endless trail of white follow you where ever you went must have been well worth it because he didn’t seem to mind all the times of getting in trouble because of it. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I would find toilet paper everywhere with a little black guy right in the middle of it all. Oh, my aching neck! I would scold him and clean up almost an entire roll of toilet paper each time he would decide to redecorate the house with white – and that was at least two or three times a week. Then, one time I caught him in the middle of the act, his long black ears flying back as he ran around the house with the white toilet paper dragging behind him. If the toilet paper broke from the roll, he would go back and start all over again. He was having so much fun that you couldn’t help but feel happy. After that, every time I used the bathroom and reached for the toilet paper I would smile – remembering that little black dog’s joy in the simple act of running with toilet paper in his mouth.
In Riley’s early years, there were many, many, many stories like the ones above – like the time he refused to go poop while he was on the leash (even though it was very clear that he had to go), to the time he got scared of his reflection in a vase and wouldn’t go upstairs, to the time he dug out and destroyed all the brand new tomato plants at a friend’s house, to the time he put his hunting skills to work on a large butterfly. No doubt I could write a whole book called “Riley’s Misadventures”. Sharing all of the stories with friends and family always brought about smiles and laughter. Riley was quite a handful, and I loved him for that. However, I really felt that as he matured he would grow out of all his craziness.
As he got a little older, his craziness mellowed a bit but he was still as mischievous as ever. He switched from loving to play with toilet paper to loving to eat it. Every time anyone would reach for toilet paper, it looked as if a little mouse got a hold of the roll with holes in the middle or the ends would be chewed off. He also took up the sport of “trash can diving”. He could dump and almost clean out a full trash can quicker than you could yell, “Bad dog!” He was so good at this, that as fast as you chased him away from one trash can and finished cleaning up the mess he made, he was into another one. We tried many different ways to get him to stop from fancy brass toilet paper covers, to covered trash cans that opened only if you stepped on the lever, to little discs that gave a little shock if he got too close to the bathroom but nothing worked. He easily figured out how to lift the brass toilet paper covers with his nose to get to the toilet paper and he learned that if he knocked the trash can over the lid would lift just enough for him to stick his nose in to lift it all the way. The little discs were a little more effective but he was smart enough to know that if I didn’t put the receiver collar on him or if it wasn’t turned on (which happened frequently) he could freely enjoy all the wonderful snacks the bathroom had to offer. Yep, my pain in the neck was not getting any better, as a matter of fact; I think it was getting more and more noticeable. Yet each time that pain really flared up, I would always find myself smiling about it – sometimes immediately, sometimes many days later. And it wasn’t just a little smile, it was the kind that came from pure joy and it just made you feel really good inside.
The older Riley got, the more stories there were to tell and thus, the more pains in my neck. There was the time he went to his first hunting skills test and he behaved quite well until it was time for him to go into the field to find birds. Riley was to go last in the group and the dogs that went before him couldn’t find many of the birds that were placed for them. When it was Riley’s turn he found bird after bird after bird after bird. When the judges told Scott to call him in, he wouldn’t stop. Everyone was chasing him and throwing hats at him and nothing would make him stop! It took a football style tackle to finally bring him in. When I heard the story I was so mad at him but again I found myself smiling – I loved that he was the only dog that could actually find the birds and he provided some great comic relief as I pictured all the grown men chasing after him. Then there was to the time he thought he should chase a cow with me in tow – I couldn’t untangle my hand from the leash and I fell down yet he continued chasing the cow, dragging me along in the dirt. I can’t even remember each time he stole food from the counter and he loved to snack on socks, only to throw them up at 4 a.m. in the morning. He also has some stories that were not so funny. He became very protective, especially of me. I remember the first time he did it very clearly. It was on one of his very early morning walks that we would take before I went to work. On this particular day it was still dark. We were coming up to a corner and a runner appeared. We had met runners before with no reaction but this time, I suppose because it was dark and it was a surprise, he barked and lunged towards the runner. I was very angry at him because he really scared the poor guy. I apologized to the runner and we kept walking. Soon, though, that smile came across my face again – I couldn’t help but think that could have been some weirdo and my dog loved me so much that he wanted to protect me. Believe me, this protective instinct became one of the worst factors in my neck pain, but whenever it happened I would still find myself smiling because I knew he did it because he loved us so much and he felt it was his job. I knew I was always completely safe with Riley around.
Probably one of my very favorite “pains” came in the form of “The Great Black Hunter”. Riley would run off the deck with his high pitched bark in search of rabbits, squirrels, birds, fox, whatever. He seemed to particularly enjoy doing this early in the morning and late at night, and at these times I would cringe, worrying that he was waking up or disturbing our neighbors. However, my smile was never far behind. I loved that he loved the act of running and barking and trying to catch something. I loved that despite the fact that he never caught anything, he still tried every day with great joy and determination. One time, though, he proudly returned from his run with a rabbit. I was saddened to see that little bunny in his mouth but I looked at Riley, with his head up, and his tail up and he was just prancing. That smile that kept finding my face after Riley did something that I didn’t approve of returned again. Riley brought his catch to me – a great gift from a hunting dog and quite an honor for him to bestow on me.
Even though Riley spent a lot of his time misbehaving, he still found time to do all the things a “good dog” should. He loved his family and was the ever loyal companion. He was the ear that listened without judging and the nurse that lay in bed with me when I was sick. He gave great ear licks (even though they were a little sloppy); he made you feel pretty special just because you walked in the door; he would strategically position himself so that he could lay down and still keep track of everyone in the house; and he let you hold his bone for him while he chewed on it. He would always seem so proud to put his good training (thanks to my dad) and his natural instincts to work, and I loved watching him track a scent or find the hidden dummies in the backyard. He did some pretty amazing feats for his field training, like jumping over a large obstacle with a very heavy, smelly fox in his mouth.
No matter what Riley did, whether it was one of his “good dog” behaviors or one of his very irritating acts, he made me smile. All of his misadventures and misbehaviors are what made him the character that he was – and I wouldn’t have wanted him to be any other way. And, despite the many times I was heard saying, “Ah, what a pain in the neck!” I count myself as one lucky girl. Thanks to that “pain in the neck”, I frequently smiled and felt the kind of joy that really fills your heart and soul.
Today, my dear old Riley, my “Pain in the Neck”, is gone, and no words could really describe how that feels. At first I was angry that I would now have to look to my memories to try and fill the void in my heart and soul. That just didn’t seem like enough to fill such a huge, gaping hole of emptiness. I was afraid that amazing feeling I got when I smiled because of something Riley did had left me forever. Then, the other day I walked into the bathroom. I did my business, reached for some toilet paper and, wonder of all wonders, I felt that old, familiar feeling. A smile crept across my face. The toilet paper hadn’t been pulled from the roll and there weren’t any nibbles taken out of it either, yet I still had that feeling. It really took me by surprise and so I cried. After I blew my nose I went to throw the Kleenex away and stepped on the lever to lift the lid of the trash can and there it was again – I was smiling thanks to one of my many memories. I realize now that Riley left behind yet another gift: He filled every single day of his 12 ½ years with so many funny, frustrating, and amazing adventures so that there would be plenty of memories to help us smile again (even when it is least expected) and fill the emptiness after he was gone.
I am forever thankful to you, Riley Boy, for your everlasting gift of wonderful, sweet memories.
No comments:
Post a Comment