Rescued Dogs: Short Time, Long Love
Wolfie and Cheyenne were German shepherds, already old and infirm, who’d slept in the barn no matter how cold the night, when the author and his wife took them in.
So there’s me, and I’m pulling into this unknown driveway. It’s off somewhere on the edge of Vermont, and two large German shepherds are loping my way to see what’s going on. A lot of people might want to rethink this situation.
I didn’t. I was in real estate, and just a little focused. I was showing this very house to a woman who was, well, very interested. She wanted to see this particular house beyond all things, and there was nothing much to say beyond that except “Nice doggie.”
Actually, she did say that. What I did was sort of tiptoe my way up to the house, as I wondered how these dogs would feel when I let myself in.
As it happened, the dogs showed me right to the door and waited expectantly while I tried to find the right key. As soon as the door began to open, they bulled ahead and pushed their way inside. I later learned that this was because the dogs were never allowed in the house, and simply seized the opportunity.
And the dogs did love being in the house.
Actually, the woman did, too. With good reason: The atrium-style living room wrapped around a fireplace that looked out at the wilderness through large picture windows. She kept walking around saying, “I love it, I love it.” Then she stopped, looked out at the hills beyond the lake outside, and said, “I love it. The problem is, it’s not … near anything.”
I agreed. The difference was, that was exactly what I loved about it. I said goodbye to the dogs–and the woman–and took my wife, Ann, out to see the house the next day. We bought it that weekend. The dogs welcomed us to our new home.
The only thing left was to work out a few extras with the owner: rugs, boats, tools, lawn furniture, the all-terrain vehicle, and the dogs, whom we now knew as Wolfie and Cheyenne. The dogs? Yes, the dogs. They had, she said, actually belonged to her partner, a man named Todd, who had passed away less than a year earlier. “Died right there in that closet,” she observed. Just possible that’s why she was selling the house in the first place.
Get bonus content not published in the magazine in our premier e-mail newsletter.
what a great story. thank you.
What a wonderful story….I certainly understand….I also was quite teary eyes. Thanks for the story
A heart-warming story. I have lost 3 much-loved greyhounds over the years and am lucky enough to still have one with me. I understand exactly how you feel. There is nothing like being loved by a 4-legged furry friend and letting them go is one of the hardest things we ever have to do.
5-6 years ago I lost 3 bassettes in about 6 months, 2 from old age and one,Rocscoe just died in front of me and he had not been sick. I had not cried since my mother passed away,losing all three of my guys hurt a lot,my wife and I said that we would get another 2 later. Well my son showed up one day with Tank,one of the biggest bassattes I have ever seen, his weight is 58lbs and is correct for his size,Roxie is a small female both neutered and will give you love 24/7. We still miss the 3 that died so close together,but pictures and memories of them stay in our hearts,after 5 years they are still missed
So my husband and I departed Vermont for a few days in Maine partly to escape the fresh sorrow of putting down our elderly female German Shepherd days before. And not that long ago, we lost her partner, our other German Shepherd, to similar ravages of old age. We had each of them for roughly 13 years. “Long Time, Long Love,” in our case. So, there at the inn we stayed at, I happen to pick up a copy of Yankee Mag and read Carl Casselman’s story, and it slices deep. What rotten coincidence, I think at first, to come across it just now. And for a moment I go to pieces. And then, I feel the first blessed jolt of give in the vice grip of grief. And when we return to our “too quiet house,” I decide to try to find online and reread that radiant, perfectly told story again. And to say thank you to Mr. Casselman for knowing exactly how to write it.