Waldo By His Side

             I remember the day a yell came out.  My brother David and I were playing in the empty field across from our house.

            “Come home,” yelled Fay.  We came running.

            Upon the front porch we saw our Mother take from Mister Jackson’s mouth his false teeth.  In response, Fay commented,

            “He’s going to be mad when he wakes up and Mother took his teeth.”  But he was not about to wake up.  Mister Jackson had died sitting on our front porch that day.  Why Mother took his false teeth, I never knew.  But she did.  As adults began to come before the ambulance came, Mother had Mister Jackson pulled inside the house.  She said to keep flies from landing on him.  I saw that as my first experience with death.  But the story does not end there.  Mister Jackson went nowhere without his dog, Waldo.  By his side that day was his dog.

            Mister Jackson was a friend of my Daddy’s.  Mother was killing flies on the front porch when he stopped to ask where Ewing (my Daddy) was.  He sat down in a rocking chair while his dog Waldo lay down beside him.  Mother told the story that he began to gag; and then he was gone.  The teeth were taken to give to his wife when she came.  But I still never understood that!

            Until the ambulance came, Mister Jackson sat inside as a loyal dog lay beneath his feet.  When finally the ambulance came and they were taking his body, the dog had to be held back.  Mister Jackson and his dog had spent many years together.  It was a loyalty of more than just master and owner.  They were seen as truly friends.

            Today, I still remember Mister Jackson.  To a child, his death was seen as a bit scary.  I grew up watching the Frankenstein and werewolf movies shown on television back then.  I shared a bedroom with my older sister.  That night, she and I were both scared to get up and go the bathroom.  But now all that just seemed ridiculous.  What really stands out is what happened to Waldo after his owner’s death.  Waldo was taken home.  It was not the same for him.  The dog lay by his owner’s chair in the house.  He never seemed to ever move.  He wouldn’t eat.  He never left the spot until he too passed away.  It seems to be a sad ending to a story that maybe should never have been told.  But it is being told.  Not because of how they died, but how they lived.  I remember a saying someone once said to me, “We all can say we have friends.  But to have one true friend is rare.”  Whether this statement is true or not leaves me to wonder.  Mister Jackson had his one true friend.  That dog loved him.  He remained faithful to the end.  Waldo grieved for his master.  I kind of envy the relationship they had.  When growing up, I never had that.  The pets we had were shared with other siblings.  Right now I don’t have a dog.  But I do have cats.  I feed strays.  I rescued and took in a litter of four.  They all have different personalities.  One has definitely become my friend.  I know My-a-Moo cat would grieve over me.  And, I would her!  I can’t go anywhere in the house that she doesn’t follow.  I can’t sit at the table reading or writing.  She flops down right in front of me.  In a chair, she comes and gets in my arms and goes to sleep.  She truly loves me and I love her.   She can be a pest at times.  But if she ever stopped showing me her attention, I would be lost.

            I can understand the relationship between Mister Jackson and his dog, Waldo.  I think in reading this story you too, as a pet lover, will have no trouble understanding.

Chihuahua

            My parents ran a country grocery store.  It was the only grocery store for miles in this country community.  It was sometimes a happening place as neighbors came to buy food, gasoline, and whatever needed without having to go to a town.  It was like everybody knew everybody.  My Mother and Father seemed to have many friends.  And on one such day, my Mother’s best friend came for a visit.  She had telephoned prior to that visit telling my Mother she had something to show her.  She had excited.  Even Mother acted kind of excited to see what it was.

            Upon my Mother’s friend’s arrival, she came walking in carrying her purse. 

            “I have something to show you,” she said.  And immediately she opened her purse revealing a small head looking out.

            I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Being somewhat curious, I spoke first.

            “What is that?”  I asked.

            “It’s my little Chihuahua dog,” she answered.

            Mother never spoke until finally she asked, “What good is it for?” she continued, “Will it help you on the farm?”

            “I got it for companionship,” she answered.  “Don’t you just love him?”

            “I can’t tell much about him in that bag,” replied Mother.

            “Wait a minute,  I’ll get him out,” replied her friend.

            She reached into her purse and brought him out.  The dog began to wiggle and to the floor he dropped.  Off he ran behind shelves to hide.  Apparently all the excitement scared the little fellow.  And he showed more fear as they came close to catching him, he ran to another place.  It was almost comical as mother and her friend both tried to catch the dog.  Finally; they did!

            That day was my first sighting of the small dog they called a Chihuahua.  It was small and couldn’t have weighed more than five or six pounds.  I had always been use to the big dog like the ones we had owned in the past on our farm.  But since that day, I have seen the Chihuahua in commercials, and yes, the movies.

            As for my parents who ran the grocery store, not long afterwards a sign went up, “No Dogs Allowed!”

            I wonder if the sign would make my Mother’s friend mad as it certainly would be seen directed at her and her dog.  But surprisingly, it did not.  After all, I think they all knew that a grocery store was not a place to bring a dog.  My Mother’s friend continued to shop there.  Nothing seemed to get in the way of their friendship.  The remained, “Best Friends Forever.”