I kept my hand on Shep, trusting him to stay with me, trusting him to be Shep, no matter what the future brought our way. Trusting him, as he trusted me.
I fell asleep in the sun, my good dog snoring beside me.
~•~
Well, that about wraps it up.
But I do have a small confession to make: I changed the names of the folks in that last story. When ‘Ray’ was telling me the story the first time, he was only a few years past the incidents he’d told me about. ‘Shep’ was still alive, Ray was still married to ‘Carla’, and they were even expecting their first child. ‘Tony’ was still around, and Ray said that he’d put away jealousy after that day in the park; said how he’d decided to live in gratitude for a while, see how that did ’im.
But if I told you their real names, you’d know that nothing turned out just as they had probably hoped. Over the years I read about them, you know. They made the papers a lot, first for the good things and, then, for the not so good. That’s the way we are, though, isn’t it? Kind of as a group, I mean…we love to love an underdog, but once that ol’ dog has got too far up in the traces, something in our nature makes us want to pull him back down.
We are petty, sometimes.
Shep died on a film set; that was the first thing. He’da been about eleven at that time, old for a big dog, but not end-of-their-life old, you know. It was a pure tragedy. That noble German shepherd got run over by a horse that had got spooked with a child actor on its back. Everyone swore that Shep was trying to grab that panicked horse’s reins; he was doing his best to save that child. If he’d been younger, he might have lived, but eleven is too old for a dog to get trampled. He died before the vet could get to him. There was a picture in the paper, and tell you the truth, it looked like a scene straight out of one of Shep’s movies. In the picture, a horse is standing head down with a cowboy (Tony) standing there, holding its reins. The cowboy is motioning to someone out of frame, and his arm is a wild blur. A woman is holding a child on the other side of the picture, striding right out of the frame. In the center, Ray sits with Shep half in his lap, his face distorted in a dismayed yell as his hands clench the ruff of Shep’s neck.
It was a sad day, and the news ran stories for a week. They even had a special on television when Shep was laid to rest. The location of the grave was kept a secret, but I’da bet it was in that rundown park on the shady side of town.
Carla and Ray got a divorce as most of those Hollywood folks seem to do, but Ray married again a few years later. She was a fellow animal trainer who (according to the article in People) had never aspired to be an actress. Ray and his new wife had three children, and two of them turned out well, but another died of a heroin overdose. I’d have to guess that, overall, Ray’s life turned out reasonably happy. He learned a big lesson at twenty-five that a lot of folks never get a chance to learn…he learned to let go, I think.
Let go and let dog, I guess you could say.
Carla went on to sink into obscurity but reappeared in her late fifties to act on television. Still beautiful, she played the mother of a hapless but appealing detective, and became so intrinsic to the show that eventually her ‘son’ got ‘put into witness protection,’ but the show kept going with her in the lead role of detective. She was a big hit with the nursing home set, as you can well imagine. Her and Ray’s daughter eventually went into nursing, a nice, stable profession.
Tony fared the best and then, unfortunately, the worst of the three (four if you count Shep, and I guess we could go on and do that, couldn’t we?). His star rose and rose, and eventually he didn’t even have to partner with a dog. He made dramas, comedies, science fiction movies…everybody wanted him! He never married and never had children and instead appeared in movie mags, and late night talk shows, and even those terrible tabloids on occasion.
Then, he disappeared all at once when he would have been about forty-five and should have been in the prime of his good career. He had contracted a new disease, one that had everyone scared witless (and in some cases, it seemed to have scared the humanity right out of some). There were lots of rumors, lots of innuendo…I’m sure you can guess why. He died within a few years, and by then, his passing was barely worth a mention on the nightly news.
Sad things, you know.
But I did read years later that Tony had moved in with Ray and Ray’s wife and children not long after he got sick. It was just a squib with not much more information, but I sure read an awful lot into it. I think that Ray took care of his old friend, despite the sweeping fears of our nation and despite what nastiness the tabloids might decide to say about it. I decided that Ray really had learned from Shep that sometimes the best thing to be is there.
Well, folks, that about wraps up this here book. I think I have bent your ears enough (I don’t guess eyes get bent, do they?), and Angie is waiting on me to come on to bed. I will have to push a few cats out of the way and shuffle a dog to the end of the bed so I can climb in, but it’s a good feeling, sleeping within that circle of love. I sleep deeper, you know, and easier. Together, we are that calm center in the midst of chaos.
So, here’s wishing you a good night. Kiss your dog for me and give kitty a scritch between her ears…right where she likes it. Tell your family and friends you love them, and always be on the lookout for a good story. If you find one you like, you can go ahead and drop me a line about it. I might not be on this earth for much longer, but I know for damn sure I’ll be taking all my stories with me over that rainbow bridge when I do go.
It will help me identify all those good dogs, you see, so I can have the chance to thank them each in person for the laughter and lessons, and tell them all what good dogs they are and always will be.
Because that is what a good dog deserves.
~•~
Rabbit Redbone’s first book, All Good Dogs, Stories of Good Dogs and the People Who Love Them can be found by CLICKING HERE.
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About The Author
Rabbit Redbone is a native of Florida and has worked as an artist, radio personality, cook, used-car salesman, and juggler. He has had more pets than can be counted on two hands and seems to find a new one every time he swears he’ll never get another. Write to Redbone at: [email protected] or connect on Facebook by CLICKING HERE.
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Table of Contents
Ann and Andy
Old Dogs, New Tricks
My Angel, Sarie
Who Takes This Dog?
The Star
About The Author
More Good Dogs: More Stories About Good Dogs and the People Who Love Them Page 15