My Loyal Friend

I have a sweet, dear friend who I’ve known for almost 8 years. I think he’s 61 years old (but he could be older). When he was younger he was pretty wild. Very trim and I believe athletic. He was a runner and pretty darn fast. Probably not a distance runner, but boy could he sprint! I don’t know too much about his background, like his parents and siblings, but I’m sure somewhere in the genes there were some prize runners. I am grief stricken to see that as the aging process attacks my dear friend he no longer enjoys his runs. In fact he isn’t running much at all anymore. His sight is starting to fail and I believe he realizes that running is now too dangerous for him. His hearing is starting to go as well. I sound like I’m yelling at him when I want to get his attention or I almost scare him to death when I approach him from behind and he doesn’t hear that I’m near him. I love this loyal and faithful friend and I wish I could back time up and start all over again from the first time I saw him. He is a member of my family – he’s my dog, Beau.


He came to live at our house 8 years ago. We answered an ad in the newspaper. It was Christmas Eve day and I remember driving to his owner’s apartment. I thought he was cute and I liked him instantly. He and I seemed to click. I’m not sure if he realized that I was basically saving his life (if he wasn’t bought soon the owner was going to take him to the pound!) or what it was, but he soon became my dog. He came to our home and instantly blended in. I thought he was going to be an outside dog, but the first night he cried and Doug brought him in. He slept in a beanbag chair next to my side of the bed until we were able to buy him a real bed. He never became an outside dog and his bed has been in the family room, by the back door, ever since.

He has and is a very obedient dog. You could point to his bed and tell him to go to bed and he would run and jump in it and actually stay in it. Grandma Hunsaker use to laugh and praise him for being such a smart dog when he would obey this command. Well he doesn’t anymore. He has such a hard time getting in and out of his bed now and it is usually at a very slow pace. The last few nights I’ve been picking him up and ever so gently laying him in his bed.


He was pretty mischievous when he was younger. He would pull things out of the trash cans in the bathrooms . . . you know, investigating. If you were foolish enough to leave a food item in your purse or in a shopping bag and it was on the floor, well it was fair game for the little four-legged snoop. I remember buying some really good large oatmeal chocolate chip cookies (they weren’t cheap), had them in my briefcase, but had left it a little open and on the floor in the office . . . well the aroma brought him into the office to investigate and he ate the entire package. I worried all night long that he was going to be sick and die from the chocolate. Nope, he just enjoyed six very well made chocolate chip cookies.

I remember one summer afternoon while I was at work Melissa decided to take pictures of him – dressed up of course. He wasn’t too thrilled about the photo shoot, but he did what he was told and nobody got hurt.


He was a runner and being inside our house didn’t seem to stop him. Brent could get him running so fast that he would run from room to room. At times he would go too fast and he would collide with walls, doors and sofas. Another time (again during the summer while I was at work – see the pattern here?) Brent calls me at work to tell me that Beau has punched a hole in the drywall in Brent’s room. Brent kept repeating that it wasn’t his fault, but the dogs. Apparently Brent had Beau running through the house so fast that he ran straight from the kitchen, down the hall and not being able to stop, ran into Brent’s bedroom, jumped on the bed and all in one motion turned his little body on the bed and his butt hit the wall and boom, landed into the wall! Doug was able to patch the wall and the dog wasn’t hurt. Racing was soon banned from our house after that day.

So how can I stop him from getting older? I miss his excitement when I walk in the house from work. I actually miss him jumping on me, snagging or tearing my nylons. I miss the long walks we use to take. I miss him going out to the front door and challenging any dog or cat that had the guts to walk by our house while he was out there. I miss him barking at the sound of a car door closing and thinking that someone was at our house to visit. I even miss him running to the front door to see who was knocking and jumping on the unsuspected guest. I guess he is entitled to retire from being a watch dog. He has been very faithful and loyal in this area. Our vet has reassured us that he is okay, just getting old. I just don’t know what the future holds for Beau. I hope he knows just how much I care for him. I think I’ll tell him tonight when he’s sitting on my lap.