My Dog Patty

He joined our family when he was 1 year old. Lanky, athletic to a crazy degree, and very anxious. I didn’t especially want a dog as my hands were already full at the time.  But once he was there, I didn’t want to leave him all day locked up and alone. So I decided to bring him with me when I went to my sessions with clients, they ended up loving him, which was not hard to do. Patty was gentle, almost regal in how he moved and acted. I’m pretty sure he thought he was human. He never acted out when I took him anywhere. He just wanted to be included. So I made a deal with him, you don’t run off, and I will take you with me.

In 2012 I started working on what would be my first vacation rental. It was a cabin in rough shape, but located in a perfect spot. Patty came with me the first time I stayed the weekend. I worked all day, all 3 days. He waited around the yard looking at me each time I came outside with a hopeful expression. His muscles tense, ready to bound off if he sensed I was ready to walk to the beach. When I grabbed whatever tool or supply I came for and went back inside, he would accept, just turn around and nonchalantly wander off. 

Moments that seem endlessly available are easy to squander. I’m not sure how many sunsets I missed working inside while he patiently waited for me. But most evenings as the sun began to get serious about leaving I would grab a beer, step outside, and begin to walk down the driveway. Patty would always, regardless of where he was, sense this and begin to run-dance past me in a full release of his exuberance. This always made me smile. When we reached the dunes he would run off-trail in the tall grass and bounce up as high as he could, disappearing briefly as gravity claimed him, only to reappear again with his beautiful floppy ears in concert with his pure joy.

When we reached the beach he would crouch down, his forearms on the sand with his nose pointed at me and his hind quarters straight up. It was time to play tag. He would race furiously around, in ever expanding circles daring me to try and catch him. I would try, and he would dodge, juke and dance, effortlessly avoiding my attempts to touch him. Eventually he would get to cocky and to close and I would manage to barely touch him. Game over. Patty would walk next to me, look up and lean his head against my side. Good dog.

We would then turn and head to the ocean; I always try to put my foot in the Pacific whenever we visit. Patty, of course, would be right in step. Walking along the surf he would keep watch for flocks of birds congregating on the sand. The larger the group the better. He would move slow at first, stealthy and sure, until the first bird got nervous, and then he would explode into a sprint of epic proportions. Charging full steam with his glorious snout moving down and up aerodynamic and deadly, straight into the very irritated flock of birds, he would leap at the last one to fly away, letting out one bark. Almost as if to say, I’ll get you next time. And then Patty would come back to me with his tongue lolling and an “awe shucks grin” on his face. He would rest his chin on my side and let me scratch his ears and tell him how amazing he was.

And he was amazing. A greyhound, great pyrenees mix, Patty was tall and skinny with a long coat of fur and velvet ears. He was sensitive, self assured around people and awkward around other dogs. He came with me to the beach for 12 years as I slowly built my business. Waited patiently as I too often worked through perfect moments to visit the beach. He was always there when I called him.

As my kids grew up and moved out, Patty remained my constant. He always wanted to tag along even if it meant waiting in the car. He never stopped loving that moment when he knew we were finally going to the beach. How do I say goodbye, when everyday I still look for him, still feel the vacuum of his surreal absence. The next time I go to the beach, it will be to spread his ashes at the head of the trail leading to our favorite spot.

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