Life is an exercise: RIP my dear pal, Porter

I have never been a dog lover. I do not hate dogs, either. That is primarily because I loved my dog as a young boy. Gave me security and hope. The dog would protect me. When I was about 11, he died; it was the first time I felt the pain of losing something close. For the rest of my youth, I never wanted a dog because I knew they would likely die before I did, and I didn't want to experience that feeling again.

My father did have dogs. He loved his dogs dearly, and when one passed, he replaced the pet immediately. One day, I let my father's dogs out of the house to relieve themselves, and one ran away. I could not find them and had to return to class (I was a Sophomore at North Dakota State University). When my father got home and saw the note, I assumed he was mad, as he had left a message on the answering machine that I was no longer supposed to return to the house. He did find the dog later that night, but we never spoke. He was angry! I then realized he loved his dogs more than his children or wife. I thought that in the past, but this solidified that fact. That was painful as well. So I had known the love for a dog, and the pain that the love for a dog replaced the love for my father's children.

Later that week, my sister told my father she was engaged to an African American. He basically told her to leave and never come back. The relationship is very torn. I told my mother I was going to give her away at the wedding, and my father told her I was not his son anymore and never to talk to me again. That is another story – we spoke about 5 years later.

Back to dogs. I always took care of dogs. Unlike the cats on the farm, I always felt dogs were unfortunate animals that were not typically self-sufficient. So, my heart and soul always went into parenting mode with dogs. There is a need to care for those in need and show kindness. But never getting attached. That was the same for my girlfriend of nearly 20 years. When we met, we had the older dog Annie (Golden Retriever), who was joined by Jackson (Golden Retriever) for some time. Jackson was young when I met him. I grew attached, but not close enough to feel pain.

So, my attachment to a pet was still classified as neutral in my mind. Recently, my heart has changed.

Within months of Jackson's passing ( Fall of 2014), Shelley added Porter to the mix (April 2015). Porter was a male golden retriever. She thought Porter would be her last dog as she anticipated he would be about 67 years old when he passed (assuming he was 12-13). Porter was a good pup who was really drawn to me.

Porter grew on me. He knew my scent, and when I was a block away riding my bike home, he would jump up in excitement to greet me. I would take him on rides with my bicycle, and he obeyed stop, start, go left, go right as we cruised the neighborhood at 10 miles per hour or more.

Most nights, he preferred to sleep as close to me. When I was not feeling well, he stayed near me. When I left to visit my son, Shelley would send pictures, and it was clear he was depressed. When I returned, it was always with fanfare beyond anything I had seen. Porter was, indeed, a GREAT friend and a comfort to me!

About 4 weeks ago, Porter was very ill. He had tumors and growths that were not operable, and he was in bad shape. We had to make that decision at 8.5 years of life, which would be a whole life for Porter. I was devastated. I was losing a part of me. It hurt!

While I still could not forgive my father, maybe I now understand his love for his dogs. My dad passed away in May, and that is another entry for a later date. We never mended the past, and now we never will.

I wrote a song about Porter - it is called When Dogs Die Do They Go to heaven - Lyrics are:

The sun sets another golden day

Memories linger every waking day

We were close; my faithful friend

Never wanting the bond to end

With tear-filled eyes, I said goodbye.

Underneath the painted twilight sky

Your tail wagged one last time, so gentle and kind

Leaving paw prints forever on my mind

When dogs die, do they go to heaven

Do they run free where angels play

Chasing dreams in fields of clover