InsaneJournal

Current mood:

contemplative

Pets
As a child, we had a dog once named Fritz. He was part shepherd, not entirely sure what the rest of him was. He showed up on our doorstep one winter, and he may have already been fairly old, because he only lived another six years. Still, he was a good dog and he would listen to what we told him - he knew how to sit, shake a paw, lay down, fetch, and other such things. Playing with Fritz was one of the few things I could do peacefully with my father. When he played with the dog, there was a peace that came over his usually broody nature - the simple act of throwing the stick for the dog to fetch, or scratching him behind the ears seemed to bring about a change in his entire demeanor.

I was grateful to the dog for that time with my father. When Fritz died, my father buried him under the elm tree by the back fence of our property. It was a spot where Fritz often liked to lay. He said a few gruff prayers over the spot, and became too emotional to walk back to the house. He leaned on my shoulder, my strong, proud one-legged veteran father - and sobbed. I froze. I didn't know what to do. "Fritz was a good dog," I muttered, and he agreed. I don't know how long we stood there like that before he found the strength to go inside.

A few years later when my brothers died, they were buried in the churchyard near my grandparents graves. My father stood straight and stiff as a board as the priest said the prayer. Not a single tear fell from his eyes, and I wondered then if it meant that the dog had meant more to him than any of his sons.

We never got another dog.

If I were to have a pet now, it would be a housecat. They are far more independent, and I have never owned a cat or known anyone who has, really. So I am interested to see what this would be like.