Angus
Yesterday I lost a friend, one of those exceptional buddies who loves unconditionally, a friend who comforts you when you're sad, who rejoices with you when you're happy. I loved his smile, his big brown eyes, the way he liked to play. Maybe the fact that he had four legs and a cold nose made him even more special. Anyhow, I loved him. I always will.
I first saw this black and tan fellow peeping from behind our stone wall in 1996 as Ron bush-hogged the front pasture at our New London/Evington area home. Our black Lab Kushi welcomed him. I groaned. Not another stray dog to worry about, I thought.
When Kushi brought him to the kitchen door, I noticed a bad cut on the dog's left leg. I cleaned it with peroxide. He winced, but never growled or tried to bite. I was impressed. At that moment, I heard mooing from the black Angus cattle on the adjoining farm. Perfect, I thought. I dubbed him Angus. The vet said he was a Rottweiller mix. He sounded like a Rottie; he could bark ferociously and growl at the same time.
Because he'd been neutered, his tail cropped, and he sported a tattoo in his right ear, I figured it wouldn't be hard to trace his owner. Wrong. I spent days searching. I looked up dog registries on the internet. I called all the dog pounds, humane societies, veterinarians within a 50+ mile radius. I sent out faxes and fliers with his picture. Nothing. Weeks passed. The local newspaper, The News & Advance, wrote a story on him, plastered his picture in the paper. Again nothing. And by then I was madly in love with him. So were Kushi and Ron. You guessed it; we kept Angus.
After we moved to Smith Mountain Lake, Angus developed a passion for fishing and swimming. And he loved our children, our grandchildren, and all their dogs.
When Kushi died, Angus was a great comfort. And two years ago he readily welcomed Yellow Dawg, who just showed up and never left. Now Yellow, who is also grieving for Angus, is comforting us.
I haven't yet told my family about Angus' passing. I'm not ready to talk about it yet. But I can write, and for some reason I feel that Angus would be pleased that he is now immortalized. Thank you all for "listening" to me.
I first saw this black and tan fellow peeping from behind our stone wall in 1996 as Ron bush-hogged the front pasture at our New London/Evington area home. Our black Lab Kushi welcomed him. I groaned. Not another stray dog to worry about, I thought.
When Kushi brought him to the kitchen door, I noticed a bad cut on the dog's left leg. I cleaned it with peroxide. He winced, but never growled or tried to bite. I was impressed. At that moment, I heard mooing from the black Angus cattle on the adjoining farm. Perfect, I thought. I dubbed him Angus. The vet said he was a Rottweiller mix. He sounded like a Rottie; he could bark ferociously and growl at the same time.
Because he'd been neutered, his tail cropped, and he sported a tattoo in his right ear, I figured it wouldn't be hard to trace his owner. Wrong. I spent days searching. I looked up dog registries on the internet. I called all the dog pounds, humane societies, veterinarians within a 50+ mile radius. I sent out faxes and fliers with his picture. Nothing. Weeks passed. The local newspaper, The News & Advance, wrote a story on him, plastered his picture in the paper. Again nothing. And by then I was madly in love with him. So were Kushi and Ron. You guessed it; we kept Angus.
After we moved to Smith Mountain Lake, Angus developed a passion for fishing and swimming. And he loved our children, our grandchildren, and all their dogs.
When Kushi died, Angus was a great comfort. And two years ago he readily welcomed Yellow Dawg, who just showed up and never left. Now Yellow, who is also grieving for Angus, is comforting us.
I haven't yet told my family about Angus' passing. I'm not ready to talk about it yet. But I can write, and for some reason I feel that Angus would be pleased that he is now immortalized. Thank you all for "listening" to me.
posted by Sally Roseveare | 11:05 AM
4 Comments:
Angus was such a sweet dog. I'm sure he's grateful for the wonderful life you gave him for so many years. I'm glad I knew him (and he made me feel so welcome the first time he met me). He will be missed.
Thanks, Becky. You understand how much an animal can mean to us mere humans. Angus was in so much pain that we made the decision to have him put down. He is buried next to Kushi.
Sally,
Oh, I'm so sorry to hear about Angus. I've had dogs for pets and have lost several so I understand your loss.
I'm sure Yellow Dawg has done some howling, too.
I can tell from the picture of (both dogs) that they enjoyed each others company.
Now you understand why Yellow Dawg appeared to you one day not so long ago. He is there to comfort you and Ron. Dogs are so special and I know you will miss Angus.
Mary Lib, we've believed ever since Yellow Dawg appeared that he came to help Angus. I think having Yellow here gave Angus at least one extra year, maybe two. We miss him, but at least he's not in pain now.
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