Yo-yo

Yo-yo was a beautiful tri-color hound running loose in a town near our farm.  He came right up to Charlene when she tried to pet him.  We were in town for a meeting, but Charlene kept leaving the meeting to go out and watch the dog.  The town had an unofficial dog warden, who was known to capture stray dogs and euthanize them.  Charlene was adamantly opposed to such culling, and while we were at the meeting she decided that Yo-yo had to have a home.  That meant our home, of course, although we already had three dogs living with us. I came out of the meeting to find Yo-yo locked in our Jeep, and—Shazam— we were a four dog family.

He was barely full grown and I thought he looked like an American Fox Hound with his white, brown, and black markings.  Whatever breed he was, he was one of the best looking dogs I'd ever seen.  Of course he wasn't yet named Yo-yo—that was my contribution later after having seen a performance of Tommy Smothers with his yo-yo tricks. Yo-yo lived in our 2 acre fenced yard with two of our other three dogs.  In a short time the dogs sorted out their pecking order and settled into their own little society.

I don't like to say one animal is my favorite, but if it has to be said, then I guess Yo-yo was my favorite in a growing bunch.  By the time we moved to Florida we had six dogs and a passel of cats.  In Florida the dog yard was smaller, but still fenced.  Yo-yo became a house dog not much later, but he still romped with the others a couple of hours every day.

With Yo-yo so close at hand, he and I began a relationship so close it's hard to describe.  He was always nearby, within arm's reach for copious petting.  I used to kiss him on top of his pretty white nose near the point right between his eyes.  Yo-yo was a shedding dog His long silky fur could be found all over the house, but Charlene did not complain.  She did wear out a couple of vacuum cleaners while he lived with us.

He always had regular checkups, and years later at one of them, Marty, our vet, moaned a little when he discovered a swollen thyroid and diagnosed a lymphoma.  My best friend and constant companion had a fatal disease.  Marty could create a remission, but only for a little while.  He told us that in a couple of months we'd know when the right time to put him to sleep came.  We even went to a veterinary oncologist and tried chemotherapy.  I was heartbroken at the prospect of saying goodbye to this noble, beautiful best friend.  And still the time came, and he passed into eternal sleep with us at his side.  He was about 14 years old.

Weeks later at Christmas, Charlene gave me a coffee cup with Yo-yo's picture transferred onto it.  On the back side the cup says, "I loved you so."  She couldn't have found a better gift, although I tear up sometimes when I use it.  The coffee cup picture is in color and you can still see those three primary colors, but the colors are fading.  I expect the fading, for after all the cup is now thirteen years old.  Each time I use it, I gaze at his lovely eyes staring out at me, and I notice the fading is slightly more pronounced.  It's like a sea fog settling in,

I feel some wry amusement imagining a tiny spark of Yo-yo's consciousness lives on there inside the cup behind those adoring eyes, and I imagine that he is wondering if I, his master, am slowly being obscured same thickening fog.

Les Inglis