The Dog that Followed Me to School

It was Fourth Grade. I remember because Miss Sant was my teacher. And our classroom was in the portable units closest to the playground. Some of the girls would sit outside on the steps of the portable units during recess and tie friendship bracelets. Those steps got icy in the winter because the portables were close together and there was no sunlight between them, so even though the snow got was shoveled and removed, they still had a lot of ice on them. We had heat though, and we had the best teacher, so all seemed right with the world.

I only lived a block from the school, so I walked to and from school every day. It was no big deal. Dad would watch me from the front room window to make sure I got there safely. Plus, there were lots of other kids who lived nearby, so we had safety in numbers whether we wanted it or not. We did have to cross one major street though, so Dad always watched me until I made it to the school grounds.

One day after school there was a dog hanging out in the school yard. He was kind of a scraggly looking thing. He was medium-sized with dark brown and black hair. It looked like he hadn't been bathed in a long time, but you could see he was being fed okay and was obviously healthy in other ways. To this day, I have no idea whose dog it was, but when we met that day after school he was my forever friend. He followed me home from school that day and hung around for a few minutes so I could play with him. (We had lost our dog, Taffy, at this point, so the idea of having another dog around sounded good to me.)

The next morning, he was at the end of our driveway waiting for me. He walked me to school. In fact, he walked me right up on to the portable steps. And then he waited. He waited outside until recess, and the girls came out and tied their bracelets while I scratched the dog and he laid in my lap. When we went back in for more schooling, he waited. He stayed all day. And when the day was over, he walked me home again.

I have no idea where that dog lived. He could have been miles from his own home for all I knew. But he was faithful. For weeks, he walked me to and from school, waited on the school grounds, played with us at recess, cuddled with me, slept in my lap, and went home at night - wherever that was. I told Dad about him. Dad watched him walk me to school in the morning. All I had to say was, "C'mon" and he was right there with me.

All these years later, I still think of that dog. I think about how loyal he was. I think about what a good friend he was to me and to the other kids. I remember one of the boys got mad at him over something and lifted his foot to kick that dog, and I was right there giving that boy what for and telling him that is NOT how you treat an animal. I remember that boy walked away as I scowled at him, but he must have spread the word because nobody ever tried to hurt that dog again. And all of these years later, my heart aches because I don't know what happened to that dog.

He just didn't show up one day to walk me to school.

I thought maybe his family had gone on vacation and taken him with them.

I thought maybe he wasn't feeling well and needed some rest.

I thought maybe he was helping his owner with some chores or a good project.

It went on for days. The dog never came back. I was devastated. Dad said the dog probably moved on to another little girl that needed a good friend, but that he would never forget me and how good I was to him. In my heart, I knew. I knew that dog had died. Whether he had been hit by a car, or been sick and finally found relief, or something else had happened, I knew that dog had died. And it made me sad. It still makes me sad, and I don't even know that dog's name.

Because of that, I can't watch those ASPCA commercials on TV without getting a lump in my throat. If nobody is home and one of those commercials plays on the television I will openly cry. Like a baby. With the big, wet, drippy tears.

That's probably why I started bawling when Bear yelped out in pain a couple of weeks ago. And probably why, even though the vet says he's okay, I still worry about him and won't let him jump off the beds or the couches if I can help it. And probably why I baby him and cuddle him and let him get away with whatever he wants. Because who can resist this cute face?

I hope I get to see that other dog in heaven some day and thank him for taking care of my Fourth Grade Self. It really meant a lot to me to have him for a friend. Those four-legged humans are some of my very favorite kind!