At first, we wanted to change the name of the big yellow Labrador retriever we had adopted. Her original name, Goldie, didn’t seem that exciting or interesting, but after several days of trying things likeSunny or Daisy or Mazie, we gave up and kept her old name. We couldn’t have made a better decision, for she lived up to it.
She was pure gold.
Goldie was not a great retriever, not an extraordinary swimmer and, quite honestly, only an average partridge hunter, but none of that mattered.
She simply was the sweetest, calmest dog in the world. She obeyed commands. She stayed near the house, and she loved children and people. Goldie was good-natured and temperate, yet a dedicated guard dog. Having her around was like having a private guardian angel. Her presence was soothing, peaceful.
When people with babies and children visited, they always assumed Mr. Magoo, the Pug, was crazy about tots. But it was Goldie who relished babies. She didn’t mind their little hands, their kicking feet, their noise. While Magoo clambered to a high place to avoid a toddler’s grasp, Goldie welcomed it.
With 80 pounds of power and pure muscle, she could have been a force to be reckoned with, yet she was always temperate with aggressive dogs unless given a “get ’em” command by Dick. Then she bared her large teeth and growled, and the attacker always melted away into obscurity. A long scar on her flank and another on her shoulder testified to rough early life experiences. She’d been attacked by a wild or tame animal. We never knew which.
When we brought Magoo, the pug puppy, into our house, she allowed him to attack, wrestle and pull her ears, while she gently moved her large feet and long claws in mock fights. He always thought he won. She always let him think that.
Goldie was a beauty with richly colored gold fur and the prettiest Lab face you have ever seen. Her eyes were melting brown.
She loved to swim and grab the stick or dummy but never was convinced to bring the retrieved objects back to her master, preferring to drop them in the woods. She loved to swim and also loved to chase and bite bubbles, staring intently into the water. We assumed, at one point in her life, that with other owners (we were her third) she must have caught a minnow or a fish.
She loved long walks and riding in any vehicle but especially Dick’s truck. She loved following Dick anywhere, whether in the woods during hunting season or around the yard as he tinkered with cars or did yard work. She never liked having her frequently infected ears cleaned and treated, but she loved our house and being with us.
This sweet, beautiful dog lived with us for eight years. We loved her and she us. But this past June 2012, at age 13, her time finally came. Her tired old body gave out, and we had to say good-bye.
We still are.
Letting go of something precious is never easy.
Leave a Reply