He was our first puppy. We had seen him from the day he was born. But let me take you back a little bit. My husband had been working for a dog breeder for a long time. He fell in love with dogs, and influenced me to love them with time as well. So when a friend had to travel and asked us to stay with his pregnant dog, we were more than glad to oblige. As fate would have it, our friend was unable to return in time for the birth of his puppies, and we found ourselves with the task of delivering the mother, whose name was Rocky. With my husband’s experience, we were able to support Rocky successfully through the birth. She delivered six puppies, three males and three females.
When our friend, Brian, came back, he asked us to choose one pup as a gift for the good work we had done. We picked the biggest male who we had already identified as special. He was the first one to perk his ears at two weeks, way before the others could achieve this development milestone. If Ricky’s litter was a wolf pack, that puppy would have been the pack leader. Brian gladly gave in to our request and left with the rest of the litter as well as the mother.
It was now time to pick a name for our newest family member. We searched for many hours until we settled for Pawdy. You see, my husband’s name is Patrick. Patrick has many variants, one of which is Paddy. We figured that since we were naming a puppy, Pawdy would do instead of Paddy. We let Pawdy live with us in the house. We pampered him and trained him to be the best dog ever. He maintained the trait that made us pick him in the first place; intelligence. He could tell when people were in a good mood in the house and when people were happy. He would sit in the corner quietly when he noticed we were not in the mood to play, waiting patiently.
Pawdy grew into a huge German Shepherd male. He would have easily been mistaken for a ferocious dog, but we had trained him to be friendly, especially to children. Our relatives loved him, and our neighbors grew accustomed to Pawdy’s bark. I loved taking him for walks and enjoying the compliments I would receive as the owner of such a graceful dog. I was not the only one. My teenage nephews loved taking him for walks too, and I trusted them with my dog. Looking back now, that was a mistake.
One morning as I was leaving the house, my nephews asked me if they could take Pawdy for a walk. Since they had done so before without any problems, I told them it was okay. When I came back in the evening, disaster awaited at home. I had no idea as no one had been brave enough to call me with the bad news. I found Pawdy lying motionless on the front porch, with foam on the spot where he lay. I couldn’t move. I sat down right there beside him and wept. I had too much emotional connection with that dog.
The explanation I was given was that he just collapsed during the walk. My nephews had called my husband who luckily was in the house. They took Pawdy to the vet, who said that he had food poisoning. The vet’s efforts to treat him had failed. I have never known where he had eaten whatever caused his death. Could it be that my nephews were careless and let him eat something poisonous during the walk?
We buried him that evening. A few relatives and neighbors attended. It was a quick and sad burial. Pawdy’s bark was forever silenced, a little too soon. We had hoped that he would live to be an old dog and sire many more puppies for us. But it was not to be. Now we own a kennel full of different breeds of majestic show dogs. We named our kennel after our beloved Pawdy. But we have never found the courage to give any of our dogs that name
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