He was such a good dog — and such a happy dog. He loved everyone, except for the geese. He would curl up with our cats or lay at our feet, whether we were in the kitchen or the living room.
We enjoyed his loving devotion for nearly 14 years — but last week, that sweet golden retriever said goodbye to the world.
Dusty came to us from a friend in New York who had discovered that a lovely, 6-month-old puppy was turned over to the local animal shelter because his owner didn’t want him any longer.
My husband jumped in his car the next day to drive to Rhinebeck, N.Y., to collect who would be a wonderful, loving pet for so many years.
Dusty, who had been given the horrible name of Floyd and later, the unoriginal Goldie, joined our family in the summer of 2002 as an energetic puppy.
My husband and I struggled to find just the right name for him. And after a few hours of serious conversation, we decided that this big, gangling retriever should be Dusty.
He was the most loving of creatures. He greeted everyone who came into the yard with a wagging tail and loving hello. He loved everyone and was certainly not a watchdog. For that, my geese served very well.
Geese were his nemesis.
Whenever Dusty decided he wanted to go outside, he’d look both ways outside the kitchen door to make sure these volatile and aggressive birds were nowhere to be found.
Once he knew it was safe, he practically flew out the door to begin sniffing for signs that other dogs may have violated his space, or to greet whomever may have entered the driveway.
My wonderful goose, Finny, had a innate dislike of anything that resembled a dog.
If Dusty should approach me as I sat next to the garden with Finny on my lap, that protective goose would chase Dusty all over the yard. I suppose Finny thought he was protecting me from a wolf.
Similar to most dogs, Dusty loved to go for rides in the car. If he couldn’t go with us, we always spelled out r-i-d-e when we discussed it.
He also loved ice cream. Whenever my husband visited Gifford’s, he would always buy Dusty a small cone, too. Our big dog would then gently and calmly eat every drip and crumb.
Dusty liked our cats. They would often curl up near the wood stove, all feeling wonderfully warm and comfortable together. The cats knew something was up Sunday night when I lay on the floor next to Dusty in the kitchen, trying to get him to eat or drink something. They stayed right by my side.
We love all of our pets — they are so much a part of the family. They know when we are happy, sad or angry. They try to make everything all better.
But the worst thing about having pets is that they have a much shorter lifespan than we do. We have to say to goodbye to them long before we are ready — and for those who love and must have pets, we must say goodbye to so many.
Over the years, Dusty’s vibrant actions and perkiness gave way to a definite slowing down. Although he hadn’t developed a crippled hip as so many large dogs do, he was definitely not able to get around as he once did. He was still thrilled to see us, to go for a ride and during the past couple of years, to our annual outdoor getaway at a sporting camp beyond Greenville. He was a good dog and laid peacefully on the porch of the cabin while we went to the dining room for breakfast, lunch or supper.
He knew we’d always bring him back a treat, too. That was the least we could do, as he waited so patiently.
Dogs are truly man’s and woman’s best friend. They accept us when we can’t accept ourselves. They try to cheer us up when when are sad, and they share in our happiness.
Every pet is so special. I have been doubly blessed by having two very special dogs in my life. I’m sure we’ll adopt another homeless dog sometime in the future.
But for now, we are mourning the loss of our wonderful, gentle and loving dog, Dusty.
Eileen M. Adams has had four-legged or feathered pets for most of her life. Life just wouldn’t be the same without them. She may be reached at petsplants@midmaine.com.
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