Skeeter

Watched the new movie "Marley and Me" after church this afternoon. We got there about 15 minutes before it started but the theater was already almost full. We had to sit in the third row. I always hate sitting that close as it's hard to see the screen well at that angle. The movie was one of the better movies I have seen in a while. I highly suggest seeing it. I am not a big Owen Wlison fan but he was great in this movie. I did ball my eyes out. For a dog lover such as myself it was so emotional at the end. Even if you don't like dogs the movie is so well done it will move you.

Having lost several dogs through the years I could just feel what the owners went through. Especially remembering the best dog I have ever owned. Skeeter. He was one of about 7 Australian Shepherds I have owned in my life. He was the best. A red tri with one ear that stuck straight up in the air. I tried everything in my power to get that ear to lay down like it should but nothing worked.

My oldest sister has raised and shown Aussies since the year I was born-1971. She gave me Skeeter when I was in high school in 1987 or 1988. I didn't have a dog at that time and needed one. I don't think I could live without one. Sharon probably couldn't sell Skeeter because of his ear thus a perfect gift to little sister. I won though. Skeeter was the coolest dog and became my best friend.

In his younger years he loved herding my neighbors dairy cattle--much to their chargin and mine. His dam had been a champion herding dog in Georgia and Skeeter inherited his mama's instincts. Skeeter was fairly talented-he was good at getting the cattle round up but didn't know what to do with them. He ended up with a pretty bad broken front leg after one herding attempt. Think that broke him thank goodness. 

My bedroom was in the basement of the house I grew up in. Skeeter would stay in my bedroom every night until I went to sleep. Then he would sneak off my bed and upstairs to sleep at the foot of my mother's bed. When Mom died in 1990 Skeeter kept doing that for a while. Until he finally realized she wouldn't be back. He then slept with me all night.

Aussies are one family dogs and Skeeter was quite protective of me. Chris and I started dating in 1990. Skeeter was about 2 years old or so. Chris and I could not wrestle or play. Skeeter would get aggressive toward Chris. Skeeter knew if I was home alone and he also hated the sound of big trucks. He would chase them every day. Two of my friends drove big trucks, Robbie and Bob. Every time they would come to my house to visit Skeeter would put them back in the truck until I came outside. One day Bob was driving by my house and Skeeter ran out to chase him. Before Bob could see him he ran flat over Skeeter. He was in rough shape--the dog and Bob. The vet, Dr. Kefauver, did not think Skeeter would make it through the night. His head was the size of a basketball. I remember going to see him at the vet clinic. He was laying in the kennel crate and perked up when I came in. Skeeter had dried caked blood all over. I cried and cried. But the next day he was on the road to recovery.

Skeeter was about 15/16 years old when he died. Very old for an Aussie. He had been having some heart and hip trouble for a couple years but I just couldn't make the decision to put him down. I kept thinking "he'll let me know when it's time". One weekend in 2004 I was supposed to go to Sarasota, FL to show my mare in a cow horse show. For some reason I just didn't want to go. I was hauling my mare for a national title and leading so had a big incentive to go show. But just didn't feel like it. On Sunday afternoon Chris and I came home. Skeeter was laying in the front yard and couldn't move. He was in bad, bad shape. I knew it was time. Chris called the vet. He came out to our farm. I was sitting in the front yard holding Skeeter. Crying hysterically. The vet said some kind words and gave Skeeter the shot. It was a horrible, horrible day. I sat with him a good length of time after the vet left. I have always cried at the loss of a pet. But never like I did over my Skeeter. Chris buried him on the back of our farm after I was able to let go. I couldn't watch that part. I was just thankful to God that He had kept me from going to that horse show. If I had gone then Skeeter may have lain there for hours upon hours suffering alone with no relief. God knew I was needed at home that weekend.

You know, I never received a bill from the vet for the farm call nor the meds to put down Skeeter. The way I was crying he must have felt too sorry for me to bill me.


Love you and miss you Skeeter.......thanks for being my friend and companion all those years.