Cash the hero

Let me tell you about our black Labrador——Cash in Black. This is not an obituary. No, he is still with us. We got Cash from Howard's bird-hunting friend and his wife, Bruce and Phyllis Hawkins. Cash is almost 14, and that's really old for a Lab. He has bad skin. He sports little tumors all over his body. One of those nasty things is the size of a ripe canteloupe. His eyes are cloudy from cataracts, and he can barely walk. Most days he can be found on the back steps, sleeping in a coma-like slumber. I stand there sometimes to watch and see if he is going to take another breath. He always does. When people come to our house, they look at him and then look at us, as if to say, "Why don't you let him go?" I've asked that question myself. Howard just says, "He's not ready." Cash proved that recently.

In anticipation of being left dogless except for my aging Silky Terrier, Howard got a heeler mix wild puppy (Katie Barr the Door) which he loves more than he does me. They ride on the Mule every afternoon that weather permits. She sharpens sticks, has dug up all my flower beds, has chewed through a leash, pulled the weather stripping off the back door and anything else she can get her needle-sharp teeth into. That includes Cash——his ears, his tail, his feet. He puts up with it. That's why he is still here. To raise that wild thing and Sassy the kitten. When Cash has enough torture, he puffs out a semi-growl, and she quits for two seconds. He doesn't have enough teeth left to bite anything. When she is tired he lets her snuggle up beside or on top of him. When she was still tiny she slept on his head. Katie is not the only animal in the dog pile. He (Howard) also brought home a kitten, Sassy cat, while I was on a trail ride. She has funny markings but is mainly white. When it rains (I think it has rained twice since we have had them),they line up single file and truge at Cash's pace down to the horse barn to sleep in the hay. Katie chews on the kitten too. She is young and fiesty enough not to let it go too far and gets out her boxing gloves and works poor Katie over good.

I think Cash must remember what a bad baby Lab he was, and that's why he is hanging around and putting up with all this nonsense. He ate the pool cover, chewed the gas lines on the grill, ate every kind of bed I got him, and destroyed beach towels just for the thrill.Even this past summer he swam laps in the pool. Well this year, maybe just a dip. I tried to make him behave. He went to obedience school when he was about four months old. He would do what he was told——sit, stay, heel, etc and then fall out at my feet and sleep like he was drugged. We went to another obedience class and by this time, he was awake. He was fine until a little poodle passed by and he wanted to get in her personal space. I had to take him out of the class. Then my friend Mary, who raises and trains dogs, took him for two weeks. She is stronger and meaner than I am, so he did great for her. When I got him home, he could tell I was a wimp by just looking at me. For Howard, he was Mr. Perfect.

So I miss him already—the handsome, confident boy that he was. If we hadn't had him, how in the world would we have raised the wild puppy and silly cat? He knows it's not time. Not quite. Hope you enjoy the pics.