Marley

Marley’s Last Sunset

Our college age daughter brought the dog down to us overnight. She left a note on the kitchen table that there was a surprise waiting for us outside. Shelly and I woke up the following morning, read the note and went outside to the fenced backyard. A beautiful black lab, about one year old, was waiting to greet us. She immediately ran away from me when I walked out. I sat in a chair on the deck and coaxed her over to me. After smelling me I petted her a bit, then she jumped up and put her paws on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eyes. I had passed the trust test.

Our daughter has named most of our dogs, and this one she named Marley, because the dog was black and chill, just like Bob Marley. Turned out Marley had a fine black coat, but was definitely not chill. Labs as a breed are produced for energy and stamina, to run and hunt for long amounts of time. Not so much to just take a leisurely walk around the block. Marley did not really start to relax and slow down until around 6 or 7 years old. After struggling for several years with different leashes and even a full body harness for walks we decided she was just not built for the city and we would take her out to the woods or lake where she could run free.

I don’t think I have had a dog with so many aliases: Marley Maples, Marles Barkley, Girly Girl, Ooooold Lady, Marley Girl, (and along with our other dog Steve: Thing 1 and Thing 2, Marley being Thing 1) Honey, Sweetie, Baby, The Marlinator, Pooper, and I imagine some I have forgotten.

When we were finally ready to move to the country Marley was right there with us, riding along in one of the packed vans in the little empty space I left for her, trip after trip. She took to country living very well, chasing the rabbits around our acreage like she had the squirrels in our backyard in the city.

During the last couple of years her age began showing, her muzzle getting grayer, loosing teeth, going deaf, skipping meals, having accidents in the house and, during the last six months the onset of some kind of dementia. A few mornings she would wander off, with Steve following, clear down to the acreage to the east, about half a mile away, slowly walking back home when she was good and ready. She was almost 15 when we decided to put her down on February 21. She took it well, always trusting us, up to the end.

I remembered a touching little essay about a dog from years ago that ran in an Ann Landers column. I found it online:

A DOG`S PLEA

Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I might lick your hand between blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me learn.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world`s sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when the sound of your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.

Please take me inside when it is cold and wet, for I am a domesticated animal, no longer accustomed to bitter elements. I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst.

Feed me clean food that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.

And, my friend, when I am very old and I no longer enjoy good health, hearing and sight, do not make heroic efforts to keep me going. I am not having any fun. Please see to it that my life is taken gently. I shall leave this Earth knowing with the last breath I draw that my fate was always safest in your hands.

A Dog`s Friend in Kansas City, Mo.

(Source: https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/ct-xpm-1990-05-15-9002090506-story.html

Critters

The main critter on our acreage, our dog Marley, looking off the back porch

Maybe the most ubiquitous animals we have encountered on the acreage are mice. They nested in all of the soft camping equipment we stored in the back shed over the winter (tents, sleeping bags, blankets, pillows) and ruined some of it with their shredding, urine and feces. There seem to be two distinct types here based on their coats. One is gray and black and and the other tan and brown and larger in size. Mousetraps work well on both.

Recently I noticed a garter snake coiled between the side of the house and a downspout. I knocked it to the ground and our dog Marley picked it up in her mouth and shook it then began pawing at it. The snake stopped moving and soon Marley was walking unsteady and dripping saliva from her mouth. Shelly did what everyone does these days and whipped out her smart phone. What she found was that the dog was having an allergic reaction to to either the snakes skin or its venom, or both. We forced a antihistamine down Marley’s throat and soon she was fine. When we looked for the snake it was gone.

Over the winter we had a pair of rabbits staying in the machine shed and foraging around the acreage. One day I walked up the driveway to the mailbox and there was one of them dead, with most of its insides now on the outside. Only a week later the surviving rabbit had been joined by another, and we had a pair again.

What got the rabbit probably was either the bald eagle or the chicken hawk we had seen perched on telephone poles or fence posts, or flying overhead. The chicken hawk comes and goes but I am guessing the bald eagle was only hunting in our area until the river thawed, because I have not seen it for a few months.

Marley alerted us one night to either a huge raccoon or a groundhog that she had chased up one of our light poles. By the time I had grabbed a rifle the dog had excitedly run off in another direction and the animal was gone from the pole.

One night in late autumn a thick fog had reduced visibility to around 30 feet. Two packs of coyotes, one to the south and the other southeast, began howling and yipping back and forth, getting louder as they both approached the house. I was standing on the back porch listening and soon they were close enough I thought they would appear through the fog. The tension I felt was enough that I had backed up to the door, ready to rush in, and I had already put Marley in the house. Curiosity kept me there, waiting for something to happen. It went silent, the fog drifting in the slight wind. Nothing, as if they had disappeared. Minutes went by, and not another sound from them. They were gone.