Taffy

My Dad's dog, Taffy, left us today.

Sunday, she played her favorite game one last time...chase the water hose...and today..she left to go find my Dad.

Anyone who says an animal is JUST an animal...never met my Dad's dogs.

Taffy's entire life was devoted to him. She followed him from room to room. She kept him company when he became home bound.  When he wasn't feeling good, she didn't leave his side. She ADORED him. ADORED.  She spent every moment of her life, if he was home, with him. She even rode to town with him in the patrol car to get the mail before he had to give that up. She loved nothing more than a good car ride. And a good game of roll the hedge apple down the driveway.
She loved water. Ever see a cat chasing a laser pointer or a piece of yarn? That's what she would do when you tried to water the flowers. Her ears would perk up, her tail would start wagging, and it would be on. In the twitch of  the water hose, she'd turn into a pup again.



Taffy had coat of long beautiful shiny black hair. She was some sort of border collie mix.   She had expressive brown eyes, that oozed love. She used to lay her head on my Dads lap when he was sitting in his wheelchair and just look at him. "What? What, Taff??, he'd whisper to her. Thump-thump-thump would go her tail, but she would never break eye contact with him.
 
One day, right after my dad died, Danny and I, and my brother and sister were at the farm. We were looking for pictures to take to the funeral home. Hospice had just come and taken all the medical equipment, and the house felt cold and sad.   Taffy came out of her hiding spot, and cowered her way over to me. I sat down, and realized every feeling that *I* was feeling...was mirrored in her eyes. She was lost. And scared. Didn't know her place or what she was suppose to be doing anymore. Confused, and so tired.  I remember I just laid my head down on her head, and just cried. She just sat there, and didn't move, and let me cry.

She never was the same after Dad died.

And Sunday..we removed my Dad's bed. It was like she couldn't stand it anymore. And she turned her light off. 

Dad had another dog named Tuffy. She died of cancer a few years ago at the ripe old age of 16.  As she was taking her last breaths, my Dad bent down and whispered to her. "Go find a good tree, lie down, and wait. I'll be there soon."   And I know she did. I've thought a lot about that since losing my Dad, and what a reunion that had to have been. 

And I know they were right there waiting on Taffy. Oh, how I bet that tail was a thumping when she saw them again.



Run and play hard, sister! Thank you for loving Dad, and keeping him company all those years. Make him go find you a water hose.

And tell him how much we miss him.