There was Smoky, Super, Juneau, Buck, and Sue. And Caddie and Gretel. And Peter. We grew up in the woods and by a busy highway. We learned to love our dogs and cats hard, but lightly--trucks, owls, coyotes lurked just at the edges of life. I remember sobbing over breakfast at the loss of a dog and asking for a puppy by lunch. Was my mother as horrified as I was when my children did the same thing?
Peter was different. Perpetually friendly, eternally cheerful, he surfed his way across our laps every night. If we were gone during TV time in the evenings he let us know we had let him down. He was a dog that really could smile. Everyone who met him commented on how friendly, how sunny, how happy he was. And so were we. Pets bring something indefinable into our lives--the hole they leave when they're gone is unexpectedly enormous.
Peter's been gone for 14 days now. We've resigned ourselves to understanding that he's not coming home. Where he is...if he's safe...I guess we aren't going to know. I pray that someone found a wonderful sweet lonely dog who had lost his way and his collar and brought him in. I pray that he has a cushion and clean water and good food and a new family that loves the stuffing out of him, the way we do. I pray that the next best family to us found the best little dog we'll ever have. But this one...I think Peter might be impossible to get over.
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