The Last Goodbye

April 2009:
The woman from Catahoula Rescue half picked up, half dragged the large 65 pound puppy and pushed him into a crate in the van, like sausage meat into casing. There were at least a dozen other dogs in the van, barking, crying, whining. Then, she was gone and with her, my precious-turned-aggressive puppy, Chinook.

The last four months have been very difficult for me and I'm sure it has been hard for Chinook, too. He spend the first two weeks traveling up and down the Eastern seaboard in the van before finally getting dropped off with Vance in Franklin, TN. He used Catahoulas to help round up lost cattle. We though that Chinook might be re-trainable as a "cow dog." Apparently, that did not work. Vance said, "he was too much of a pet." He didn't really know how to work with the pack and kept running back to the human for reassurance. Ironic since he didn't do so well as a pet. At least, not with me. Vance is not a pet kinda guy. His dogs are pure working dogs and Chinook was essentially taking up space and eating, not earning his keep. He had failed as a cow dog and needed a new home.

From there, he went to Michelle's place. Michelle knew Vance and he told he had a dog he couldn't use. She met Chinook and really liked him. He was given to her and sometime after the fact, when I happened to call Vance for an update, he told me that he'd given Chinook away. Vance had never let on that there was any kind of problem. Obviously, I hadn't been told the whole story.

Michelle was very nice on the phone, sounded young, and trained horses for a living. In the evening, she went back to the 60-acre ranch on which she worked part time in exchange for housing. She seemed to really care about him and had plans for training him, keeping him busy and raising him with her other dog, a pointer-cattle dog mix. And so, they have been together for the last few months. She said, "sure" when I asked if I could come out and see how he was doing. And, sign the pedigree paperwork over to her, the final step in the transfer.

Last Friday, I left Asheville around 1pm, driving up through Knoxville and across the Appalachians to the rolling hills just east of Nashville. Kali came with me for company. I was worried the whole drive. How would he be? Would he be happy? Healthy? Could I see him without falling apart emotionally? I checked into the Motel 6 in Hermitage, TN, uncertain whether I'd be able to sleep for my thoughts & feelings. As it turned out, I didn't need to worry about that due to the raucous families above me and to either side. I think I got about 4 hours total.

We left first thing in the morning for the last 40 miles to Fairview, TN and, after a bit of trouble thanks to Mapquest, found the place. It was a beautiful, sprawling ranch. Deep green lawns contrasting with bright white, split rail fencing, sectioning off squares of fields and paddocks. I drove along the narrow drive, unsure where to go with all these buildings and areas. And then I saw him, in a chain link kennel under a tree. A very small dog house sat off to one side. I called him and he swung his head in my direction, too-long early flying. Michelle came out of her rustic log cabin and opened the kennel door. He came running to me, full speed then leaping up, licking my face before rolling on his back and squirming. I leant over him, rubbing, petting. I began sobbing as Michelle walked over with a casual greeting. I couldn't answer her at first. I managed a "hi" and tried to calm myself.

He looked good, clear eyes, healthy coat, not-too-skinny. He'd gotten taller. I glided my hands over him as if I were checking out a horse. Then I saw the thick circular scar around his neck. "What's this?," I demanded, "what happened to him?" Michelle explained that when Vance couldn't put him to work, he basically ignored him and Chinook's collar began to cut into his neck, unnoticed, as he grew. He became nasty and snippy and wouldn't let anyone touch him. Of course, nobody told me any of this. Eventually, they got a hold of him and discovered what had happened. I still don't know if he healed on his own or got any veterinary care. It was healed. I decided not to dwell on it and make the most of my time with him.

We threw some balls, ran around the yard and did some more snuggling. He went over to my car where Kali waited and they started snarling and growling at each other. We called him back and he came over readily. He seemed truly happy and Michelle seemed to really enjoy him. I got out his records and went over his vaccinaations and microchipping with her, reminding her of upcoming shot due dates. And then I signed him over to her and tried to be nonchalant as I handed her the pedigree form. Shortly after that, I left.

My heart ached and again, I questioned what I could have done differently. And then, I just decided, "I can't do this to myself anymore. He is happy. He has a lovely home. She loves him. It is over." And, I drove the 350 miles back through the Smoky Mountains to my own log cabin with my dog.