My Dad’s Friend continued…

We were living in a second-floor apartment. The kids were asleep in their rooms. I had fallen asleep on the couch. I was awakened by the sounds of Rhonda growling and snarling and a man screaming. The screaming man had tried to break in. Rhonda was chewing on his leg. I got to the door just as the man pulled away. I watched in amazement as he jumped over the railing and hit the ground running. When the police arrived, Rhonda gave me the piece of bloody pant leg she was holding. and I handed it to the officer.

Rhonda was sixty-five pounds of purebred mutt. She was a very happy dog. She always had a smile on her face and a tail that wagged incessantly. And that tail could be dangerous. It could inflict a welt if it got you on a bare leg, and it cleared off many a coffee table. I would have to call family and friends before visiting. “OK, we’ll Rhonda-proof,” they would say.  I often wondered if she had gotten her tail from a beaver as she so loved to swim. She would do countless laps around anyone she got into the lake with. She and her dog friend Bruiser would tow Toni and James endlessly on their inner tubes or air mattresses. They would come to shore only when the kids got tired or thirsty.

One night Rhonda’s protective nature and superb intelligence were truly brought out in the open. It was a Thanksgiving weekend. We were living in a “sweat equity” house I was remodeling. Toni had fallen asleep on the couch, and James was sleeping in his bottom bunk. I went to bed planning the next day’s work project.  At two a.m. Rhonda did something she had never done before: she jumped up on my bed. She barked and licked me in the face. I got up, wondering why it was so hot in my room. A few minutes later Rhonda was on me again, barking wildly. I must have staggered across the hall when Rhonda jumped on me the first time. I realized that I was now in Toni’s bed. The smell of smoke and heat of flames told me what was upsetting the dog. I could not see. Smoke and poisonous gases forced me to my hands and knees. “Rhonda, where are the kids?” I called out. Rhonda led me to James’ bottom bunk. She then took a crawling James and me to where Toni was asleep on the couch. The three of us crawled behind Rhonda as she led us to the front door. She did not go out until the children and I were safely through the door.  It was an electrical short that caused the fire. The house burned to the ground. Nothing was salvaged but our lives. If Rhonda had hesitated just one minute, the firemen would have pulled all our bodies from the rubble.

Years went by…..

Rhonda and my father always had a special relationship. The best way to put it is that they just liked each other. When Dad became ill with terminal cancer, Rhonda knew something was wrong and would stay right beside him whenever we went to visit. She would gently put her head in his lap or on the arm of his chair. He would softly stroke her until too tired to continue. We went to visit one Friday afternoon, and Rhonda did not leave my father’s side until it was time to go. As we were getting to the door, I saw a lone tear rolling down my stoic father’s cheek. “Dad, is something wrong?” I asked. With an expression of pure peace and gentle serenity he responded, “All is well.”   Early the next morning Rhonda died in her sleep. I buried her in the back yard.  The next Saturday we buried my father.  Rhonda had gone ahead to lead the way for my father. I know they are together now, smiles on their faces, gently loving on each other.

People, don’t go to a breeder to get some papered, pedigreed dog. Get your dog off the street or at the pound. The rewards will be immeasurable.