Oh Danny Boy, We Loved You So

Oh Danny Boy, We Loved You So

Today is one of those days I'll remember for the rest of my life—not that I want to. We woke a little early to the dogs milling around in our bedroom as usual. But when Charlene prepared to take them downstairs and let them outside, she noticed Danny was still laying in one of his usual spots. She raised her voice to wake him, as he has recently shown some loss of hearing, but to no avail. Danny, our beloved Border Collie had passed away.

We knew it was only a matter of minutes he had been gone as he was still warm and supple. The sad truth gradually enveloped us, and we sat in our living room crying. It was a struggle to get this 60 pound friend down the stairs and into the trunk of my car. He had one more trip to make—to the vet's where his cremation was arranged.

Danny was a few days shy of his thirteenth birthday when he died. Just yesterday, he had been completely normal, and he enthusiastically played catch with me in the back yard—as he did every day of his life with us. At dinnertime last night he attacked his food and polished it off in less than a minute, also completely normal for him.

Danny would be one of the throng of dogs barking at the front door whenever we had visitors. He was the only one of the three who would quiet down on command, and you could observe his herding instincts as he harmlessly nipped at the others until they were quiet too.

We knew how old he was as he had AKC papers—not a source of pride for us. His first owners got him as a puppy, and his medical care came from the vet we shared with them. He was boarded at the vet's office when his master needed surgery more than three years ago. Then he lost his master who died on the operating table, and our vet, on hearing of this situation, showed him to us. It was a great favor to Danny that he did so, as the next day his mistress, who never cared for him, collected him from the vet and left him at the local humane society.

We had talked about Danny the evening of the day we first saw him, and we decided that there was room in our home for a third dog, but he was already gone from the vet's when we called the next morning. We weren't sure which shelter he was in, but we made a few calls and found him right away. We said we wanted him and arranged to pick him up that afternoon. When we got there, he was in a cage in their reception area. He wiggled and wagged and looked at me full of expectation—not sad, but ecstatically happy. He knew right then the rest of his life would be happy.

Thus began a classic tale of love among a dog, a man, and a woman. Every morning he would round the end of my bed and bow as soon as he heard me stirring. To every visitor who sat in our living room, he presented a ball and asked to play catch. I say he trained me to play catch, as I certainly didn't train him. Danny didn't need training for anything, as he always seemed to know what you wanted him to do. Throughout the day he would move from room to room with me, and at mealtimes, he was always lying by my chair.

Yesterday there were eleven souls living in our house, counting the six cats. But today that number was reduced to ten. And it feels so lonely, so still and silent, as I sit here writing this. It was a blessing to have known and loved this special creature. Now, through this blog I hope many others can feel they know him too. Like a dozen others so loved in our family over the years, we thought of him as the best dog ever.

Les Inglis