Somehow, it doesn't seem that it was very long ago when I was a gangly, auburn haired kid. But in 1960, I was a 14-year-old tomboy. The frills mostly came out when we went to church or weddings.

I loved dogs from the time I could say the word.

One summer day, as I was sitting outside, a mentally challenged gentleman came pulling his little red wagon of meat and groceries. He did deliveries for Central Supplies, a small local grocery store. Traipsing along behind him was a golden colored dog relieving the cart of meat packages.

"Come here boy, "I called.
He came panting over with a goofy dog smile that melted my heart. The dog looked like a small German shepherd with one upright and one floppy ear. He had the black shepherd saddle across his back. He was lovely. He was mine.
All I had to do was persuade my parents.

I cannot for the life of me remember where I found a collar for him, but I did and a rope so we could go walking. That night, I tied him to our clothesline pole.

But the third day, on one of our walks, I was accosted by three brothers, neighborhood bullies, who were determined the dog was theirs. They knocked me over into a ditch and tried to get the dog away from me. I held on to the rope with every bit of my strength. Mercifully, a neighbor rushed out at the last minute, and sent those boys packing.
My parents had made their decision. Obviously, they had spent some time checking the dog out and decided he belonged with us. The next morning, Mom came outside as I was untying my dog, and she said, "Bring him in. His name is Toby. "

Dad ensured that Toby was taken to the vet for his shots and a complete checkup to ensure he was a healthy pup.

He was finally home, and he won the family over in no time flat. Shortly after we got Toby, my Dad built a brand new house, which faced the main highway going through town. Once we moved there, Toby showed us a trait we were unaware he possessed. Barely a vehicle passed our new house without him chasing it. He even got hit by cars a few times. We would scold him and a well rehearsed limp would suddenly occur, but once we said, "All right then,” the limp magically disappeared. His former owners must have sent Toby to a good acting school!

We enjoyed Toby. He did have his idiosyncrasies like hating cats and growling at Indian people. We never could understand how he differentiated between the Native Americans and whites. Toby ate his food outside most days, and I would get a kick out of his routine. Before he would begin to eat, he would circle the house; it appeared that he was looking for canine intruders.

Toby was great to play tug a war with and to play fight with. He would never intentionally hurt a child. Once when I was tugging on a cloth from one end and Toby was on the other end, we got too close and my nose ended up in his mouth. That smarted!

He was obedient to a point when we were home. He never was allowed on the living room couches and many a time we would hear Toby making his getaway from the couch as we walked in.

When Toby was outside, he would scare away big shepherds and every other dog he didn't want around except for two big huskies that he wisely ignored.

Time passed and as we learned from our parents that we would be moving, my whole world imploded. Doctors had confirmed that Mom had asthma and therefore Toby wouldn't be moving with us. I was heading into grade 12 and my sister into Grade 10 so we were absolutely traumatized. I wouldn't have Toby and I would not be able to graduate with my friends who I grew up with.

Meanwhile, Toby needed a good home. Dad and Mom were trying to find one for him, as he was no longer young. We needed someone who would care about him. My parents found a home on Saddle Lake Indian Reserve with some fine people who were friends of our family.
Did my parents not understand that Toby did not befriend native people easily?

As I was ready to, head to school one day, the phone rang and it was from the Town of Two Hills Municipal Office. They had Toby. He had his collar and license so they identified him as our dog. My oldest brother, Fred and I headed off to Two Hills to pick him up. Toby was waiting when we arrived, and he jumped all over me in ecstasy. His family had come to bring him home...he thought.

Dad drove him out to the reserve again.

A week later, I was sitting on the couch relaxing. I glanced out the living room window and to my delight, I saw Toby jumping up and down outside trying to catch my eye. He had walked the 26 miles home!

A kinder choice was made. The Olsen family and our family were our best of friends. They took Toby, and loved him as if he had been with them from the start.

Off we headed to BC, not thrilled but resigned to a Toby-less life. We would get news on how he was faring in letters from the Olson's. They had their fair share of fun with Toby also.

A few years later, my parents heard the sad news from the Olson's. Toby had died in his sleep. I was sad but relieved that he didn't suffer. He was about 11 years old.

In your final resting place
I tell you Toby, boy,
Your presence brought us happiness
Your nature brought us joy.
Sleep well my little golden dog
You were loved right to the end.
And you know that I will miss you
My buddy
My dear friend.

Bev can be reached at Bev@hazelst.com