Sister Smokey
February of 1999, junior year of high school. I came home from basketball practice to this jet black ball of energy bounding around the house. We didn’t know what to call her at first, but eventually we settled on Smokey. She was a magnificent black lab with, dark as night except for a patch of white on her chest and this one funny white hair dead center between her shoulders. We’d had a few dogs before, but none of them had made it very long.
Smokey wasn’t like the rest. She was a quick learner. Saved my folks a few hundred on an invisible fence by simply learning the bounds of her own yard. “Smoke! Stay in your yard,” was the only command she needed (no professional trainer needed).
She used to slide around the kitchen chasing after all kinds of stuffed animal toys, paws scratching an awful racket across the slippery floor. Smokey always bounded and raced like a puppy even when she wasn’t really so much any more. Her tail always wagging, and that big pink tongue dropping down her bottom lip while she smiled big at you.
She was a great listener except when an intruder entered the house. That could have meant a total stranger or her own brother or mother, she still barked and growled. Ten years and that is the only thing she wouldn’t learn. Guess she was just doing her diligence to keep all of us safe.
Of course, once she realized it was one of her own she was full of excitement. Tail wagging and aching to jump. It was that excitability that became the hardest to bear.
Going on 11 years, a pretty good run, 70 plus in dog years. It just sucks knowing that no dog will really ever match up. For that to happen it’ll take one magnificent mutt. I’ll miss her nuzzling up when she wanted attention. She could go all day until you told her to go lay down, but she always listened. In the meantime I’ll just be wishing I could giver her one last scratch behind the ears.
Best Sister Ever
