Dakota Dog Davies

105 years in dog-time. That's pretty old. Even when you've had a pleasant, easy life.

For those of you who don't think in dog-time, that's 15 years in human-time. 15 years is a pretty long time too, especially when you think about how many memories you make in any given year. Or week. Or day, for that matter.

Dakota Dog Davies. Also known affectionately as "Puppyhead." A member of our family for 15 years. We knew he wouldn't be around forever, but we're only now realizing what it means to say goodbye.

Dakota may not have been the brightest member of our family. I still remember the day we were preparing for some large party. Everything was perfect and ready to go, and we kids had been given the task of wearing Dakota out so he wouldn't be too hyper around the guests. I don't remember who, but one of us ran out onto the deck and, in an attempt to stop Dakota from following us outside, slid the screen door shut. And wouldn't you know it, Dakota Dog Davies kept running-- right through the screen door, ripping it irreparably just minutes before all the guests arrived.

There was also the Pastors' Conference when we were getting ready to have some of the men over for dinner. Mom was going to defrost the hamburger meat to make her meal, but the men arrived earlier than expected. She went out to meet them. When she got back to the kitchen, she couldn't find the hamburger anywhere. "Maybe I did start defrosting it after all?" she thought, and looked in the microwave. Nope. "Maybe I never took it out?" she thought, and looked in the freezer. Nope. And then she saw Dakota Dog Davies, just lying on the floor. Looking rather guilty and rather ill, I might add. That poor, greedy dog had eaten five pounds of raw hamburger meat. I'm happy to say he lived many happy years after that. But he learned his lesson, too; I don't think he ever went after raw hamburger meat again.

When Dad broke the news to us this week that Dakota was in his last days, we started compiling a list of our favorite memories. My brothers did better at remembering the funny ones. I remembered the things like curling up with him and whispering all my secrets to this newest addition of our family who I was sure understood me better than anyone else possibly could. And I was right, obviously, because he'd sigh knowingly and lick my face as I whispered in his ear. I knew that was his way of telling me he was on my side and everything was going to be okay. He was always supportive that way.

"Dakota" means "the people" in Sioux Indian. Or so said one of Tim's friends, and we pretended like we'd known that when we named him. We didn't pick him; he picked us. See, we weren't even supposed to get a dog. But our friends' dog had a litter of puppies; and we begged and pleaded to be allowed to see them. Mom didn't want a dog. But Dakota knew she was the one he had to win over, and that 8-week old puppy waddled over to her and sat down on her feet. And he had her heart from that point on.

We wrapped him in an old purple robe when we brought him home. He slept with that robe almost every night in the Montville house. At some point Mom cut it up into smaller pieces, and we'd give him a new piece when the previous one got too "loved."

We liked to joke that Dakota could get a job as a therapy dog. Gramarie and Pop-pop weren't really dog-lovers, but they quickly became Dakota-lovers when they moved in with Mom and Dad. Gramarie thought he was her dog; she loved him so much--she liked the "other one" too, she would always tell us; but Dakota was her dog. And, knowing he could always convince her to feed him even though it was against the rules, Dakota became her faithful shadow and companion to the end of his days.

By the end, Dakota could barely walk; stairs were especially a challenge. But Dad reports that his last night, he made the trek up the stairs so he could sleep by everyone else. Dakota-- it means "the people," you know-- never liked to be alone.

It amazes me to think how many people knew him. Friends from pretty much every phase of my life have met and loved Dakota like I did. And he loved them right back.

I knew he was old. I knew he couldn't be around forever. But it's never easy to say goodbye, especially to someone who has listened to your dreams, your frustrations, your hurts, your secrets and has loved you through it all, no matter what.

I'm glad that Mom found a piece of the purple robe for him to have at the end. I'm glad he doesn't hurt anymore. I'm glad he got to meet so many of my friends. I'm glad he got to meet Lucy. I'm glad I got to tell him all those things I told him over the years. I'm glad I got to tell him one last time how much I love him and how great a friend he's been to me. And boy, am I gonna miss that dog.