Old Friends

 

by Pa Rock

Friend of The Rose

Today is a milestone of sorts in our family:  my little dog, Rosie, and I have become the same age.   She was born on this date in 2014 (or that is at least what I was told - and I met her at a roadside puppy stand in Caulfield, Missouri, on September 1, 2014 when she would have been 52 days old or approximately seven-and-a-half weeks.  Based on her petite size at the time we met (just one pound and one ounce) and the fact that she was just barely weened, I suspect that she could have been younger than that, but we celebrate her birthday based according to the information I was given.

That would make today Rosie's eleventh birthday in human years, or her 77th in dog years.  Pa Rock turned seventy-seven in March.  The two of us seem to have a very good understanding and appreciation of each other's aches and pains - and failing vision - and we both enjoy our naps.

Rosie was in a cardboard box with her little sister (who actually was a bit smaller than Rosie) when we met.  The box was on a folding table under a shade tree at a junction of two paved country roads, about half way between my community of West Plains, Missouri, and the shopping community to which I was headed, Mountain Home, Arkansas.  The sign on the table said "Puppies for Sale," and I pulled in to take a look.  There were no other cars, just a rough-looking lady sitting in a folding chair by the table selling dogs.  When I reached into the box and Rosie looked up and licked my hand, I knew I was in love.  But I resisted the impulse purchase and told the lady that I was going on to Mountain Home (25 miles away) to complete my business and if she was still there when I came back by we would talk again.

I drove back two hours later and was surprised to find the woman still sitting next to the table and cardboard box.  When I got out of the car and looked in the box, I was pleased to see that the puppy who had licked my hand was still there.  (Her sister had been sold to a family driving through who was headed home to Chicago.).    The roadside merchant smiled at me knowing that she had just landed her final sale of the day.  I pulled ten $20 bills from my pocket, gave them to the puppy peddler, and took my girl home.

Purchasing a pet from a breeder is not the most ethical way to acquire a pet because it encourages more people to get into the business, and I realize that.  But in this case, with this particular small-time breeder, I felt it was more of a "rescue" than it was an actual "purchase."  Given similar circumstances, I would do the same thing again.

Rosie and I have had a great run together, and we hope that we are around to share each other's company for at least a couple of more years before we wander off over the horizon.  Old friends are the absolute best friends!