My Good Boy

Few are those that understand the love and loyalty of a dog. Even when one experiences the entire lifespan, sometimes of multiple canine pets, there are still a tragic amount of dog owners who don’t truly comprehend the empathy, dedication, and pure joy these animals provide; for humans and other animals alike.

I grew up on a farm. While most would immediately guess this meant my family had lots of animals, this assumption would be incorrect. Though we owned many acres of property, with a massive old livestock barn, we only ever had three animals while we lived there; our cat Chrissy, our dog Wilber, and our old mare, Charlotte.

Chrissy and Wilber had come to us at different times, but in similar ways. We found Chrissy on the side of the road next to her deceased mother. My father brought Wilber home after finding him in a dumpster on his regular trash route. While he and Chrissy never became great friends because of her standoffish attitude, Wilber’s laid back approach certainly prevented them from becoming enemies. Then a family friend approached us about Charlotte.

Charlotte was a sad case. She’d been racing her entire life, and had never been properly cared for. Though we opened our home and hearts to her without question, she was still horribly anxious, and had seemingly lost any ability to trust those around her. While eventually understanding that our presence meant food, any attempts to touch her still sent her into fits of panic that rendered her more than slightly dangerous. She made it very clear to everyone; do not touch me. Do not come near me.

When she first met Wilber, Charlotte’s reaction was to back up, open her eyes wide in panic, and whinny in a very hysterical manner. It was clear someone else’s dog had not been very kind to her. Wilber, however, being a docile and family oriented golden retriever, was nothing, if not kind. His only goal when encountering anyone new, was to make friends. Charlotte’s reaction, while strange to him, was not discouraging; in fact, it seemed to almost strengthen his resolve. When he saw that approaching her quickly would not work, he simply laid down on the ground, placed his head on his paws, and waited.

Initially, Charlotte didn’t know what to make of him. She never took her eyes off him, to the point where we had to remove him in order for her to eat. But, without fail, as soon as he was allowed, he’d be back in that old barn, lying about twenty feet in front of her line of vision, just waiting; just staring.

Eventually, Charlotte gradually accepted that his presence was of no consequence to her, and her anxiety began to ease off. While still always aware of where he was, it was obvious he no longer scared her, and in fact, she started becoming curious as to what he was doing.

At this point, he started edging closer. While not overtly impressed, the terrified cries she initially made were now nothing more than slightly nervous huffs. Wilber was finally able to get within ten feet before needing to stop, this time remaining in a seated position. It was as if he knew just how far to push before it was too much.

Another week passed, making it almost a month since we’d brought her home. Charlotte became more open, and energetic every day, while Wilber stayed the same; calm, unaffected, and completely transfixed on the newest member of our family. He was on a mission to befriend her, and he wasn't giving up until it was accomplished. He was able to inch closer every day…seven feet, five feet…one foot away from the stable door.

Then, one day…everything changed.

Charlotte was out in the corral. Up until a couple days prior, she’d been completely unwilling to go into any open spaces. While obviously still unsure, she walked around the entire length of the fence line, curiously bumping her nose against whatever she encountered.

My parents and I were busy trying to make repairs in the barn. We’d never anticipated getting an animal that would need to live in there, and were unable to fix it up while Charlotte was inside, so right then seemed like the best opportunity.

I’ll never forget the chain of events…although the whole thing happened in under ten seconds, time seemed to slow down and stop. Charlotte was still sniffing along the fence. Wilber, on the other side, only about two feet from her, had raised himself up on his hind legs, and balanced his paws on the fence, eager to be the next in line for a Charlotte nose bump. I felt my heart leap into my throat, as a horrible image of Charlotte panicking, and raising her legs to protect herself entered my head…

Before the cry of warning could erupt from my throat, they touched noses. Oh so gently at first, with Wilber staying statue still, albeit a small, gentle wag of his tail slightly moving his lower half…then the switch. As if they’d been friends the whole time, they started playing. They chased each other on opposite sides of the fence, Charlotte happily whinnying, and Wilber barking excitedly. For the first time since arriving, Charlotte was home.

My parents noticed me crying before I did. They both put their arms around me, and the three of us watched wordlessly as the incredible sight unfolded before us. I’d seen many online videos of different species developing friendships - especially dogs - but never had I ever imagined I’d witness one firsthand.

They had three, joyous years together. While they would play, Chrissy would grumpily observe, having decided long ago her only preferred form of entertainment came from mousing. While she would sit and sulk, Wilber and Charlotte would run and frolic, the fence no longer needed to separate them. Many nights we would find the two of them, curled up together in the barn, exchanging heat and comfort.

Charlotte finally opened up to us, and started demanding daily ear scratches and kisses. All in all, we were a very small, but happy homestead.

But, alas, all good things must come to an end.

Having already lived a long and not so easy life, Charlotte did not have an abundance of time left when she was brought to us. Sadly, almost three years to the day after bringing her home, we had to call the vet to come and put her to sleep. While we all cried, Wilber laid calm and silent next to her, his nose pressed affectionately against hers. When she passed, Wilber’s face and touch was the last thing she saw and felt. We could all see, she was completely at peace, thanks to Wilber; her best friend. He absorbed all the tears we shed for Charlotte, and his beautiful, bubbly attitude was exactly what we all needed to help us through the loss.

Wilber continued being the rock for our family. He was only five when Charlotte came to us, so we had him for years after. He helped us through the death of Chrissy, and then, tragically, both my grandparents. When I laid in bed, crying, he allowed me to clutch him and sob into his fur, only too willing to help ease my pain. If anyone was sad, he wanted to help.

The day we had to say goodbye, instead of us comforting him, once again, it seemed he had taken it upon on himself to help us; almost like he was trying to absorb our grief.

He licked our hands gratefully. The look in his eyes was nothing short of adoration, and love. When his eyes drifted closed one last time, we knew he too, was at peace; with Charlotte.

Very few people will ever understand what it means to have a true relationship with a dog. A dog will love you, work for you, and die for you. The only relationship I’ve seen come close is that of a parent and child. Dogs are special though…they’ll never care if you’re family, or if you’re a different species, or what you look like. They don’t care about what you did, or what you’ll do. If there’s anything I learned from Wilber, it was how to love; unconditionally, and without judgement. He was, and always will be, my best friend. My “good boy.”