The old dog lying at my feet and the bite scars on my arm call a whisper of a memory forth. Fifteen years is a lengthy time to have one dog, but thank God for all those years. A lifetime of laughter, hurt, love and hardships. Tears of happiness and sadness mark our journey through the years, staining the path of my memory. I can remember one moment that left a mark on my soul. I was eighteen and the old dog, Jared, was a much younger dog at four years old.1
Summer was in full swing and I started planning a trip into the mountains. A weekend of swimming, hiking and eating smoky riddled food. Bold and brash as such a young age I never worried about it being just Jared and I.2
I picked the weekend after the Fourth of July to take off for our adventure. I checked the list, hot dogs, hamburgers, marshmallows, dog food and variety of camping gear. The list went on and on. Looking back maybe if I had known what was going to happen I'd have never gone but if you try to second-guess the future, what type of life would you lead? Never coming out of the house, never taking the chance to lead a better, fuller life.3
We drove part of the way and then had to hike up the long mountains trail. I picked a beautiful meadow, buzzing with life. I thought to myself at the time that the large creek and nearby swimming hole would attract wildlife. I trusted Jared to warn me if anything more dangerous then a deer appeared. 4
I set up the long lead and clipped Jared to it, letting him roam around, smelling and marking his territory. If I had let him lose I would have had a ninety pound mud monster streaking through camp. I set up the tent and the fire pit and had a fire roaring to life in no time. I took Jared off the long line and headed for the steep trail to the water hole. I trusted Jared to stay close and not wander off too far, thanks to all the time I put into training him.5
I dropped my pack at the edge of the pool and stripped to my bathing suit. Jared sprang into the water and I screeched as the water splashed over my overheated body. I quickly jumped into the freezing water and started my swim. There were some wonderful overhanging cliffs by the pool and I decided to do some diving. 6
I thought I knew the pool , after all , this was an annual trip for my dog and I. I did not think of the fact that the summer had been much more intense that year, making the pool more shallow then before. 7
I jumped off the cliff and dove into the water. I remember a sharp pain then total blackness. I felt a tug on my arm before I passed out again. I woke up on the far side of the pool with blood dripping down my face and Jared licking me and whimpering wildly.8
The beautiful Golden Retriever I had picked out of a litter of ten at eight weeks had saved me from drowning. I still to this day have no idea how he did it but I am pretty sure that I would have died that day without him. 9
Now eleven years later we are going on our fifteenth camping trip to the same spot. This may be our last trip together. Jared's joints are stiffening up and he can barely make it up the trails anymore but he manages. 10
This year there will be three of us, four if I ever let my husband come. I have gotten a new puppy, Freya, another Golden Retriever puppy of eight weeks old, not to replace the aging Jared but to comfort me when he passes. Freya, named after the Norse goddess of love, will help ease the passing of my best friend.11
Jared did not make the trip back home from the camping trip. He died in his sleep our last night out there. First he watched over me as I took my swims, never wandering off like a normal dog but lying on the bank like a mighty guardian. I buried him by the pool and made a crude cross out of wood pieces. I'll go back up and give him a real head stone next year when Freya and I make our next venture up to the mountain meadow. 12
Adding your comment:
