Papa's Pets.

My grandfather, (Papa as we've always called him, unless that is, you needed his attention, then a stern Richard would bring his head out of his bag of circus peanuts or away from the dog he was petting) built his life with calloused hands. Everything he did showed the blood and sweat he poured into it.

From building his home, going to the state fair, to every flower and tree (his favorite passions) that he planted, he loved and did it all. The same goes for his relationships. My grandpa loved people and animals. He had an appreciation for the simplest and most beautiful of God’s creations.

All growing up we would spend hours and hours in the house my own mother spent most of her childhood in.

There, our greatest family memories consist of swimming in the pool, bonfires in the handmade stone pit, and warming our feet at the wood burning stove in the living room after church.

But perhaps the greatest comfort, beside the sure presence of my grandfather, was the pets.

All of my life there was a family dog at my grandfather’s side.

He treated the four legged creatures like another member of the family, often leading us grandkids to joke that our mothers had a rather bad smelling brother.

Papa was always the one to toss one more bit of food to the creatures, or to get anxious that they needed to go potty one more time and would then brave the rain with them when they were too stressed to go out alone.

From my memory I remember four of the unique creatures that always seemed to love papa best.

First came Ray and Rylie, the two were certainly not blood brothers. Ray (A partially blind pug, named after the blind musician Ray Charles) was often at the side of his best friends, Rylie, (A slow beagle who loved a good nap)

They are like shadows in my memory for how young I was, but the feeling of them will never fade, because of the relationship my grandfather taught all of his children and grandchildren to foster with animals.

They are our companions, and we are that for them.

Hearing the dogs move across the floor or bark to go out never seemed to upset him. So we all grew up joyfully bonding with the wonderful dogs.

Ray and Rylie passed in their own time, but no one who knew my grandfather would say they didn’t live a life where they were well loved.

They, and every other pet my grandfather met, were tools he used to teach us about the special, (magical if one could say so) relationship between human and animal.

After Ray and Rylie came Jack, the sweet boy was from a home that left him anxious and tense for the rest of his life. Still, my grandfather loved and showered him generously with pets and last nibbles of food.

Jack was given a home where he finally knew what it felt like to be a man’s best friend, and how good it could be. He slept soundly on my grandparents bed every night knowing personally the love of pets Papa instilled in all of his grandchildren.

After Jack came Milo, he was the first actual puppy my grandparents had had in years.

Until Milo I thought I knew what it looked like when my grandfather loved a dog, then he finally had one that loved him back completely.

Reminiscing now, I can see how amazing their bond was.

Milo is the smartest dog I’ve ever met, he grew from puppy to dog it seemed overnight, and for every second he was by Papa’s side.

Milo was Papa’s buddy, or more so when it came to taking walks, his partner in crime. (Both were secretly hoping to run into some strangers because my grandfather could never turn down a conversation)

Milo slept by my grandparents every night, and every day stuck by their sides just as much so.

To be a man’s best friend, all of Papa’s dogs had felt, but for the first time I think he finally knew what it felt like to be a dog's best friend back.

And oh how the two cherished one another.

Whether it be a walk, cleaning up the yard, or playing with the grandkids they did it together. It was a bond stronger than any I’ve ever seen between man and animal.

Milo could sense when things began to change for his best friend. As my grandfather's sickness grew worse Milo grew more worried.

The two were each other's gift from God that our family will always be thankful for.

Milo still loves the grass and walks Papa couldn’t wait to take him on. So even though the pair are separated now, I have to say my favorite memory of four legged pets in my life is the ones I got to watch my grandfather make, and the lessons they taught me about unconditional love to an animal.

If my grandfather hadn’t decided to take on a new puppy who would require love and attention, he would have missed out on one of the best gifts of his life.

Now whenever we go to my grandparents house, and Milo is still there, a sense of peace comes with him, because if he can still love his best friend despite him being gone then we can too.

I love you Milo, thankyou for being a man's best friend!