My life is divided into 5 volumes, each defined by the dog in my life.
Susy came into my life when I was six and saw me through primary school. She was an outdoor farm dog, spending the summers getting fat on the woodchucks she expertly hunted. And she was the epitome of a young boy’s dog, running and playing with me with devotion that breaks my heart, remembering.
My Black Lab Odin arrived in 1976, when I was a student at SUNY Potsdam. He attended briefly, but soon got bored with academia and spent his days roaming the village, meeting me later in the afternoon at the Wild Oat, where he knew more people than I did. The time in Madison was the hardest for him, as he was home for long days when I was in the lab, working on not getting my Master’s degree in Zoology. He lived, like all my dogs so far, for 14 years, passing in 1990, at the cabin in Stockholm.
A few years after that, Rama, a black Golden Retriever (mom was a pure-bred Golden and dad was a traveling man), arrived. We moved to western NY, where he learned to love kittens and bring joy to the world. We returned to Stockholm in 2004, and he passed in the middle of building the house in Stockholm after sharing lunch with the crew.
But what’s a new house without a new puppy? Angus was a generous gift from my dear friends, Sandy and Lou Maine. He returned that generosity through his warmth and love for people and dogs. He hosted my doggy day care center, where his sister Mieta, niece Penny, and friends, Gogol and Eli, came many days, to run and play and guard the place.
Which brings me to the fifth volume, Bran. There is always a space between dogs, an intercanum if you will, where I reflect and adjust to life without them. And then, one day, it’s time. Usually it’s friends who trigger it—Luke and Willy connected me with Rama, and Sandy and Lou with Angus—but this time I took the initiative. Friends from Geneseo (where I grew up) knew of several breeders, and I visited them. I settled on Bran, and the connection was quick. He didn’t whine as we left his parents, siblings, aunts, and uncles, and only complained when I put him in a cardboard box at night. That was solved by moving him to a wire crate, where he could see me.
Each dog in my life has been the right teacher at the right time. They have also reflected me, to some extent. Odin was a macho alpha, and although I didn’t see it at the time, he reflected me better than I’d like to admit. Rama was less so, and I think reflected my increased self-confidence. Angus was confident, too, but also a little less adventurous.
At 71, and Bran at 3, it’s definitely a new volume. Until my late 60s, I felt younger than my years. At about 69, that started to change. And Bran reflects that. He would love to go out and play with me all day, but he’s adapted to my less energetic life. Unlike Susy, who hunted woodchucks relentlessly, deer amble away when he barks, and he was once stood down by a mouse.
I can’t fully articulate what an honor and joy it has been to have these dogs in my life. I have learned so much from them, and they have fed my soul. I only hope that I have been as kind to them as they have been to me.
Robin McClellan 