At times you just know that things happen for a reason. Old dog Jake, the German shorthair, was heading for his 13th year. I knew somewhere in the near future he wouldn't be with me.
I'd been out of town all of last week and as usual the neighbor boy just up the hill tended to the three dogs while I was away. After each time of him looking after the dogs, I would greet him with the question, "Are they all still alive?" Sure enough on Sunday, I went to pay him for his chores, I asked him the same question and he said, "Yes they are." Late in the afternoon, it was time to feed the dogs and turn them loose on the rope, and Jake did his usual roaming around and took care of his duties and came back to the pen and after a few drinks of fresh water went back to his dog house.
The other two were their wild usual selves and the new Brittney manages to tangle himself around any pole or object within 75 feet. The next morning I went out to feed the dogs and Jake was curled up in his house and even in spite of the yapping and barking there was no movement. He'd given it up sometime during the night.
In my sentimental way of thinking it was as if he waited for me to let him out one more time and pat him on the head. His final trip will be to the Redfield farm, where he loved to run and lay in the shade during the hot summers. He left behind his 12 years of special memories.