Chasing Rabbits

    For several years, we were fortunate to be able to dog-sit a fluffy little black and white dog, who I called Little Puppy in a wonderful house on Wolf Bay in Alabama. We stayed in this house on the bay during the winter while our friends headed to the island of Bequia for three months. That home where I used to swing on the Queen-sized daybed that hung from the ceiling of the big old screened-in porch, watching great blue herons and pelicans own the air, has now been sold, but the memories are still strong.

    I truly loved that quiet little puppy, who used to look at Olivia like she was a wild beast. The second year we watched her she had grown really old and unsteady. I had to carry her up and down these steep, slippery wooden stairs when we went to bed at night because she really wanted to sleep next to all of us in the loft bedroom. And we wanted her there too.

    Throughout the day I took her out to the bathroom nearly every hour so there wasn't a lot of cleanup. And of course Olivia was right there all along with us and Little Puppy.

    I don't think these two pups were supposed to be chasing rabbits in their dreams on this leather sofa and yet there they are. This quiet little black and white dog, who mostly slept on her puffy pillow over in the corner under the bar, was old and sometimes grumpy. Unlike Olivia, who seemed opposed to much snuggling this little dog, would snuggle for hours in my arms and make happy little squeaky noises when we left and then came home.

    That last year she couldn't hear or see very well and yet I would take both dogs out on a daily walk pretty much dragging the little puppy until she got out on the road where she started to trot like a real old dog. sniffing and peeing along the way. Through it all Olivia was patient and kind, restraining the urge to run down the road with me, as the three of us wandered from my friends house to the library, down around the art center and even out back onto the little sandy beach before walking back home for a snooze. When my friend phoned to tell me that I'd better sit down, before she gave me the sad news that that sweet little dog had passed away, I sobbed and sobbed.

    As I look at this picture, I'm counting on the fact that these two dogs have met once again and are taking the liberty to sleep rear-to-rear on some old heavenly leather couch they're not supposed to be on, still chasing rabbits in their dreams.

    Missing you sweet Livy girl. And you too, Little Puppy, who's real name was Abby.