Nebraskaland

60 Nebraskaland • March 2022 MIXED BAG Twenty years ago I wrote the book A Life with Dogs because my life truly has been one rarely without the companionship of dogs. As a child quarantined with the mumps, I was given my fi rst dog to keep me company, and from that point on dogs have been a norm in my life. But never something, well, ordinary. For me, dogs have always been something special. And yet, inevitably, also a source of the worst pain. Nothing is worse than losing a dog. Whoever invents the 100-year dog will deserve a Nobel Peace Prize because one of the few disadvantages of having a dog is that their tenure on this earth is so much shorter than our own. It was almost 10 years ago that our beloved black Labs Abigail and Dunstan died within a few weeks of each other. And a piece of me died, too. Linda and I then went into a long period of quiet mourning. At my advanced age, I wasn't sure I could deal emotionally with the pain of burying yet another dear canine friend, nor, if my own use- by expiration date ran out, I did not want to burden Linda with yet another obligation in my absence. But then the Dark Ages of 2019-2020 crashed in on us. We lost dear friends and relatives, young and old; terrible fl oods inundated our little community of Dannebrog; we suff ered unexpected health issues of our own; there was the horrifi c coronavirus pandemic with its death and disruption; and the entire nation became a maelstrom of political turmoil. Occasionally, friends came by with their dogs and I had a much-needed comfort of rubbing a velvety dog ear, patting a warm head, sharing again the exuberance of a wagging tail; and asking again the eternal question, "Whooo's a good daaaawg?!" But those moments were too rare and too far between. The hollowness of our dogless life grew ever greater. And then, as so often is the case, came an unexpected miracle: Linda, almost by accident, saw a brief Facebook post from Start Over Rover, a pet rescue agency in Hastings, and there was a three-second glimpse of a dog Linda instantly insisted was our dog. There was no question in her mind: that dog had to come live with us. Not just a dog, but that dog! We contacted Start Over Rover, fi lled out the papers to prove we were worthy of dog society, were approved for adoption, and then ... were told we'd missed our chance. The dog was already spoken for. Even though we had never met this dog, the haunting, dark emptiness was there again. We were wretched. To be that close to again sharing the joy of a dog in the house — that dog — and yet, disappointment. A couple days later, we got a call. The people who had spoken for the dog were suddenly and unexpectedly unable to take him. If we still wanted him, we could pick him up. The next day! Thus came into our lives His Majesty, Sir Triumph the Wonder Dog! An eight- year-old terrier-schnauzer- something-something mix, fraught with health issues, terrifi ed of fl y swatters and aluminum foil, and yet miraculously an echo and compilation of all of the virtues of every dog we'd ever known! He was instantly perfect for our household. Even our snooty eight-year-old cat Boo found him, well — "interesting." It was complete love. He was instantly ours. Or more precisely, we were instantly his. As it turned out, we didn't want a dog, we needed a dog. And that, I would argue, is the true status of mankind's relationship with dogs: It's not so much that we want dogs. We need dogs. Now, excuse me. Someone needs his tummy rubbed. Roger Welsch is an author, humorist, folklorist and a former essayist for CBS News Sunday Morning. He is the author of more than 40 books and has been contributing to Nebraskaland Magazine since 1977. THE COMPANIONSHIP OF DOGS By Roger Welsch Triumph our wonder dog. LINDA WELSCH

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