In Memory of Faith - October 30, 2024
Tomorrow, my daughter will have to put her faithful friend and canine companion, Faith, to sleep. Canine lymphoma is invading her body. She doesn't eat much, often gets sick, and breathes heavily. The doctor said it's time. The appointment has been made and, tomorrow, Alyssa will say a last goodbye.
Faith has been a blessing for my daughter. I seem to remember that they found each other during Alyssa's senior year at Alabama. The dog had been rescued by a family who couldn't afford her care any longer. Alyssa rescued the rescue and they became fast friends. A blonde Belgian Malanois, Faith looked like a German Shepherd on slim-fast: long, lean, and lithe. Alyssa loved her and she loved Alyssa.
It made me feel good that they had each other. A Belgian is no small purse-dog, and when Alyssa had long drives home, Faith's presence was a comfort. Anyone who might have been tempted to try to cause trouble with Alyssa would have to deal with 80 pounds of fur missle. Her "woof" was playful and fun, but her "bark!" was all business. If she gave a serious bark, it made your heart skip a beat and your brain think twice.
But if she sat by you and lolled her tongue at you, she was your friend. She loved to be scratched, have her neck rubbed, and her back stroked. She loved to run around the yard, her long legs making her look effortless while racing her "cousin" Reese, whose shorter and stockier legs and chunkier body made them look like the Odd Couple - Reese the Oscar to Faith's Felix.
Mostly they played well, occasionally snapping at each other like family does. I have a photo of Reese sitting on Faith because Faith was on Reese's couch. It was Reese's way of playing the part of Sheldon Cooper - that's my spot! Remember how the Road Runner left a swirl of dust and feathers when escaping from Wiley Coyote? When Faith left, a cloud of blonde, long hair trailed in her wake. I guess you could say her hair was the present left behind even when her presence was absent.
She had her fair share of quirks, to be sure. We suspect as a pup she was exposed to gunfire or fireworks. Thunderstorms put her into paroxysms of terror from dozens of miles away. Before human ears could hear it, she would be shaking at the first thunderous rumble. A bad storm system would distress her to the point that she would need to be rehydrated by IV at the vet. When the neighborhood was hit by a massive hail storm, tearing up roof upon roof, the weeks' worth of work by roofing crews with hammers and nailers caused her terrible distress. Thunder jackets and sedatives were needed to keep her somewhat functioning, and even then she would hide in a closet, looking for someplace, anyplace to get away. But when the thunder, fireworks, and construction work was done, she was soon back to herself, cheerful and playful, leaving us wondering what had happened to that poor dog so long ago to terrify her so.
The cancer won, but it doesn't win forever. It's been said that when his dog died, Martin Luther said, "Farewell, my friend. I shall see you again, and you will have a golden tail in the resurrection." I hope that's true.
So, Faith, this is my way of saying thank you to you for taking care of Alyssa. Thanks for loving her and protecting her when I couldn't be there, letting her know she was never alone with your big, brown watchful eyes and massive paws. Thanks, Faith.
And, now rest. You, too, shall have a beautiful golden tail in the resurrection. See you, then.
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