There is a family joke. Whenever someone comments on my comfort with dogs, a family member is bound to mention, in some form or other, that I was raised by a dog. Behind the humour, there is some truth to that and there is a tribute to an outstanding dog. Growing up on a farm with an abundance of livestock, dogs are more than pets. They are integral to the efficient operation of the farm.
Tegan was a female Rottweiler. My mother delivered her, along with eight other puppies in that litter. A total of nine healthy pups is a large size litter. Tegan's mother had spent the later part of her pregnancy on our farm. As payment, my mother had her choice of any pup from that litter. She picked Tegan and it was a stellar choice.
Tegan became the dominant dog on our farm. She worked with the livestock and she earned a reputation of being smart and fearless. Unlike many other Rottweilers, Tegan's tail was not docked. My mother saw no point to the procedure since the puppy was going to be a farm and a house dog. Tegan was not going to be a competitive show dog. Instead, the plans were always for her to be a working farm dog.
As a farm dog, she was a natural. Tegan was excellent with cattle, horses and sheep. She was even better with people. She would listen to human conversations and try to understand the content. In the midst of a conversation, my mother would turn to the dog and give her a subtle nod of the head. Tegan then would do what was appropriate. Throughout her life, Tegan's connection with my mother was remarkable. They could communicate with just a look and the slightest of movements.
When Tegan was two years old, she took on an added responsibility. I was born and Tegan was devoted to me. I am told that Tegan took offense that baby Catherine was not house trained. Tegan would alert someone immediately when she detected what she considered an accident. She didn't bark. She howled. It was unmistakable that the alarm meant a soiled diaper. Her nose was never wrong and so the parental units had a very vigilant, high reliable baby alarm system.
Tegan was much more than an informant. She was very active in child care. All family members agree that Tegan taught me how to walk. Supposedly, I grabbed whatever part of the dog that was handy to be on my feet and then I had Tegan as an active prop, as I tried to walk. If I was about to fall, Tegan would rush to the side to which I was listing and tried to prop me up. Failing that, she would act as a canine cushion as I fell.
When I did walk, it was to chase after the dog. Tegan would offer to be caught often enough that the game persisted. As I was acquiring language skills, I somehow changed Tegan's name. I couldn't pronounce her name correctly and what came out was "Teeg". From that point on, she answered to both names.
So much can be said about Tegan. She was so gentle and yet protective. Whenever one of the family would be in the fields, Tegan would place herself between the person and the cattle. No one had taught her to do that. It was simply what she decided was a safety procedure.
Like any dog, Tegan had her own idiosyncrasies. She became extremely restless if one of the family was not home at night. She always wanted to go with my mother, if Mum had to leave the house in the evening. If Tegan was not allowed to go with my mother, she waited at the head of the driveway, where it met the road. She stayed there until my mother came home. Whenever Mum went on a business trip, Tegan was sent to my grandparents' farm, so that she wouldn't keep her vigil. It was an adjacent farm, so Tegan would come home at least once a day to check for any news. She was just devoted - and a stellar dog.
One of the saddest days of my adolescence was when Tegan had to be euthanized. She had cancer in one hind leg and it had spread rapidly. On the first day that Tegan showed that she was having trouble with her leg, the x-rays showed that the cancer had advanced into her hips. She was in pain but, like so many dogs, she was so stoic. There were no choices and, on a hot sultry August evening, my mother and I had to say 'good bye' to Tegan.
It is one of those childhood memories that is locked forever in the brain cells. I can remember the night so distinctly. I can picture what I was wearing, what my mother was doing, the scene on the back deck - everything in such vivid detail. My mother had given Tegan medication to ease any pain and Tegan had been given fluids through an intravenous line. We had cooked a huge steak for Tegan and we also had a bowl of vanilla ice cream for her. Ice cream was her very favorite treat. Tegan enjoyed her last meal and rested her head in my mother's lap. And with a quick needle, Tegan was gone. I was distraught.
It was devastating. Tegan was just so normal days before and then she was gone. Usually, on the farm, there is ambient noise. It is the background sounds of a farm. On that evening, there was silence. Mum said that the farm was in mourning. The animals would be very quiet because they knew that our Tegan was no longer with us.
On the farm, there is a tradition. We bury the farm dogs in a grove of trees that is visible from the house. As a marker for each dog, there is a tree planted. Over the years, there are many trees in that area and each tree is a memorial for a special dog who was part of the farm. That tradition carried on with Tegan. My grandfather had the backhoe attached to one of the tractors the next day and a young tree marked Tegan's spot.
Every day, I would take a can of water out to Tegan's tree and make sure that the ground was moist. On some days, I would use that orange watering pitcher, with its long spout, several times. As the months went by and the young tree lost its leaves, I was worried about the whether it would be healthy and grow. Grandpa reassured me that he had picked out a good strong tree and that I would see it grow in the spring time. I kept watering Tegan's tree.
By mid November, there is a marked change in the seasons. Robins are suppose to be gone. It is really much too cold for them. However, on a late afternoon in mid November, I saw a beautiful big robin sitting in Tegan's young tree. Its colour was so bright that the bird stood out among the leafless trees. I had my orange watering container with me and I just stared at the robin. It did not move as I approached the tree. The bird just sat quietly on a branch.
I watered the tree and the bird remained perched. It did not move, even with the activity below it. I looked up at the robin and it was perfectly still, with only its head moving now and then. As I walked away from the tree, I turned many times and the robin was still there. Finally, about half way back to the house, I turned completely and watched the bird. I gave it a small wave and it flew towards me. Birds are not suppose to do that. Instinctively, birds fly away from danger. In the wild, it is possible to know where the perceived danger is because the birds will fly away from its approach.
The robin flew over my head, back to sit momentarily in Tegan's tree and then over me again. It continued over the house and was gone.
My grandfather had been sitting in his usual chair on the back deck. It was his usual chair when he came for afternoon visits. I didn't want to talk to him about the strange incident with the robin but he saw. As I went to sit with him, he was quiet and then he asked "Did you have a nice visit with Tegan?".
I tried to avoid the question and told Grandpa that I had watered the tree. I reassured him that I would water it again tomorrow. He was quiet for a while, as he drank his tea. Then he said, "It was nice of Tegan to come back to say 'good-bye' to you".
I was shocked. It was as if Grandpa was reading my mind. I told him that I was surprised that he saw and knew what I was thinking. And I asked him, "how did you know, Grandpa?".
He didn't answer for what seemed like the longest time. Grandpa poured more tea for himself, came back to sit beside me and put his arm around me. He said, "Catherine, always remember that love is powerful".
Catherine Forsythe
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Comments
Very spiritual, timely. Thank you.
GREAT story.
As this Shepherd-Collie mix was free to to go and come as he pleased through a small hinged door, I jerry rigged up for him for three years, we developed a psychic bond.
When we abruptly moved to NYC for me to study writing, I never had to tell him anything, as he sensed what I wanted and did it.
Then we took a Yugoslavian freighter toward the middle east, but in the four days that it took to load and reload, I fell in Love with Morocco, so we stayed and spent the next flour months cycling down the Atlantic Coast, with he behind in a jerry rigged trailer with an umbrella to shield him from the intense heat.
When we returned to Casablanca, Ms. Fizazi, the director of the American Language Center hired me as a bookeeper/teacher/asst. administrator of curriculum development.
He had never felt the feel of a chain, nor collar. I think Tegan and Dawgie would have made a fine couple and produced many happy pups.
-R-
Respectfully yours,
D
What a beautiful story. My mother in law used to think that a cardinal came to her after my father in law died. My friend thinks that bees came to her after her husband died.
What a great heart warming story and I expect to see it on the front page.
Rated with hugs
I believe.
Have you read "The Soul of Caliban " -by Emma-Lindsay Squier? It's a short story I cherish. Somehow, as I read your recollections here, I couldn't help thinking of that story.
This is stellar writing.
♥R