THE USUAL NOTE FROM LB: From the summer of 2002 to the spring of 2010, Gwen the Beautiful and I were the proud and often exhausted owners of a beautiful Ozarks property we called Cloud Creek Ranch.
In many ways, the ranch was paradise. But it was a paradise with a price that started going up before we even knew it existed. Here’s another Monday musing about our adventure and the lessons we learned.
Oh, and if y’all detect any irony, please believe me when I say it comes straight from the universe and not your kindly Uncle Larry B.
by Larry Brody
Last time out in this space I wrote about people who’d had strange (and wonderful) experiences with animals. Who’d discovered a connection with a dog or a cat or a horse or even a shark that was as meaningful to them as it was difficult to explain.
Even after being flooded with so many stories, I still clung to the belief that anything so awe-inspiring had to be, at best, a once in a lifetime thing. Even in a world filled with marvels, how could any of us suppose that animal connection lightning would strike twice?
Years ago, a small, red and white puppy called to me from a hundred and fifty miles away, saying, “I’m here. I’m yours. I’m waiting,” and off I went and found her. That had to be it, right? My allotted “Come and Get Me!” Dog?
Two weeks ago, I found out I was wrong.
I woke up early with the most intense feeling of longing I’ve ever had. A physical sensation that clutched at my heart so that I thought it would break. “I miss you! I need you!” my body seemed to say.
Except that I didn’t miss anyone. I didn’t need anyone. I lay there in bed beside Gwen the Beautiful, the woman I love, and wondered how—how!—I possibly could be feeling that way.
Then, from outside, in the middle of our clearing, I heard a heart-breaking sound.
The hysterical yelping, yipping, crying of a dog.
The sound was high-pitched and puppy-like. And so urgent I had to practically leap out of bed and go to the window, where I looked out at—
Nothing but what I usually saw.
Grass. The slight rise Gwen and I call The Mound.
Bordered by the ranch’s various outbuildings, the main house, and the fences of the horse corral and dog yard.
The yard where the other dogs were sleeping.
The yelping continued, and so did my feeling of yearning.
The two seemed connected. Yes, I was sure they were connected.
That’s when I realized that since the yelping wasn’t coming from me, the feeling wasn’t mine either.
It was a message from someone else. Someone who seemed to be an old friend.
Longing for me.
I didn’t know who the friend was. But I was pretty sure I knew where.
Gently, I woke up Gwen. “Know that litter Doug the Dog Breeder had? The one that’s still got four puppies left? ” I said.
“Puppies? Doug…?” Gwen’s eyes opened all the way. My wife was still foggy, but she knew where I was headed. “I don’t want another dog,” she said.
“Not even a beautiful little yellow lab with a pink nose?”
“Not even that.”
“But it wants us,” I said. “C’mon. Humor me. Let’s go over to Doug’s and take a look.”
A few hours later we were at Doug’s kennel. Doug’s wife, Anita, watched with a smile as Doug opened the pen where four nine-week-old lab pups played. Two males.
Two females. Both females had pink noses. One of them ignored Gwen and me. Rolled around with her brothers. The other flipped herself over the others and raised her head. Her eyes, green and gold in the morning light, met mine.
With a cry, the puppy raced over to me, started climbing up my leg. Everything about her proclaimed pure joy. I picked her up. Petted her. Frenziedly, she licked my face.
Gwen joined us. Smiled the tolerant smile I know so well. I handed her the puppy, who continued licking. Gwen’s face this time.
I turned to Doug. “Gwen really wants a new dog. This one.”
“Yep,” Doug said. “I can see that.”
Anita’s face became home to an out and out grin. “Oh yes,” she said in her British accent. “‘Gwen’ definitely wants her.”
“Well, then, Gwen’s got her,” Doug said.
We came straight home with the puppy. Introduced her to the other dogs one at a time.
Belle the Wary growled.
Emmy the Bold thrust a pull toy into the puppy’s mouth and did her best to start a game of tug of war.
Decker the Giant-Hearted grabbed the puppy and carried her into the dog yard, where he groomed her from head to tail and back. For two days.
With each dog, at each introduction, I heard the same announcement in my head:
“Hi, I’m Dixie. And am I ever glad to be here!”
And over me swept the most intense feeling of belonging I’ve ever had.
RIP Dixie Brody 2007-2021
