My name is Tucker, and I am the informal sheriff of the pack where my family resides. Before my current journey began, circumstances and life events caused me to form a stoic and nearly humorless outlook on the world.
My life began as the runt of the litter. My littermates were much larger and stronger, causing my fur-mom to take extra care and time with me. On particularly rough days when I had been trampled over and pushed aside so often my muscles would burn, she would pull me up into her ruff and comfort me with stories of my ancestors. I knew both suffering and deep kindness.
My first years with a two-legged family had some moments of kindness and occasional words of encouragement…but as I grew older those moments became more and more rare. Eventually, my life became a tethered life, with longer and longer hours spent outside. As I watched my limited view of life in the backyard, I became grateful for my early struggles. I felt strong enough to meet the loneliness with patience. I knew that I would have to stay ready for the day when the two-leggeds would call for me and release me back into their day-to-day lives.
Years went by, and one day I thought my patience had finally paid off. There had been a lot of commotion inside the house all morning, and when the back door flew open, and I saw a leash in the hand of the youngest two-legged, I was sure it was time to shine for my pack. But instead of being taken inside, I was hustled through the chain link gate to a car where I was tossed into the backseat. Even though the agitated voices and slamming of car doors made me a bit anxious, the excitement of being honored with a ride in my pack’s car was overwhelming. The waves of scents and the scenery going by felt like a balm, healing my heart.
When the ride ended, all my stoicism and fortitude seemed to wither away. Exiting the car, I felt the fur tighten on my back. While being led into a large building, my nose was filled with a blast of scents of other four-leggeds. Lots of them. My ears, likewise, were filled with the loud barking that echoed and echoed. In the cacophony of barking, I could hear exited confusion and sadness mixed with unending questions that the two-leggeds around me couldn’t answer. I was immediately taken away by a stranger and led to a pen. Smaller than my porch, no backyard view….
I laid down, deflated and lonelier than I had ever been.
The people there were kind to me, and the walks outside in the sun broke the monotony some, but the nights were very long.
What I didn’t know during this time was a picture of me had been taken to post in a magazine to help find a home for me. The editor at the time had been trying to send that picture to the publisher, knowing she would be interested in seeing me. No matter what they tried, the picture wouldn’t arrive. The publisher finally just made an appointment to meet me.
On a morning when I was having the worst time of it, a man and woman came down the walkway between all the pens and headed straight for me. The staff member that followed them opened the gate and put on my leash. Could it be? Could they be here to help me? We walked together out the door and to this day I’m not sure why, but instead of going into walk-about-the-yard-mode, I just turned and sat in front of the woman. I looked up into her face. She looked down into mine and something happened between us. That “mystery of the heart” that four- and two-leggeds can experience. I knew when she reached down to touch me that she would be the heart of my new home. I couldn’t wait.
The ride with my new family is one I’ll never forget. Entering my new home I was greeted with suspicion by a pointy-eared, red rez dog. I went past her out to my new yard and waited to be tethered, but that never happened.
I was free. I was valued. I was loved. (Well, the red dog hadn’t made that commitment at that point.)
In fact, the red dog is looking over my shoulder as I dictate this to Dad. Hazel, the spokesdog for Prescott Dog Magazine, is letting me know I’m getting a little too verbose. There is so much I want to tell you, but it appears I have to close this for now. I do want to say this though before I go. If you have any room in your heart and life for a four-legged companion…please go see my friends that are still behind a gate in a pen…waiting…to love and be loved.
~Tucker Bear
