David
Heiller
The painting [below] of our dog,
Ida, always makes me smile, because it
really captures her personality. Shy, friendly, humble. Very lovable.
All those human qualities that we throw on our pets.
I smile as I write this on March 26, three days after Ida died.
Just thinking of her brings a smile.
She lived
to be 12 years old, until some idiot ran over
her with a car.
We got her as a puppy from Harold and
Gladys Overland in August of 1988, on the same day that we were going to see Queen Ida in concert. So the puppy got the
name of Queen Ida. It was quickly shortened to Ida.
Ida and her first friend and doggie-mentor, Binti. |
The reason we got Ida was that our other dog, Binti was getting old. We thought it would be good for Binti to have a companion.
Ida was a good choice. She was half Collie and half mutt. It was a good mix. She never took advantage of the older dog. When Binti started losing her sight and hearing, Ida would tell her important things, like when we got home from work, or when we were going for a walk. It’s funny how dogs can communicate without words. Ida could do that with barking and moaning and tail wagging. Ida used her tail to talk a lot. When she wanted to come in the house, she would stand outside our window and thump her big collie tail against the wall. Boom, boom, boom. It was hard to ignore. The same in the morning. She would come in the bedroom and the tail would hit the dresser. Boom, boom, boom. Time to get up. We wouldn’t yell at Ida to stop, to go away. She was too gentle for that. She didn’t ask for much, so when her tail talked, we listened.
Ida was a good choice. She was half Collie and half mutt. It was a good mix. She never took advantage of the older dog. When Binti started losing her sight and hearing, Ida would tell her important things, like when we got home from work, or when we were going for a walk. It’s funny how dogs can communicate without words. Ida could do that with barking and moaning and tail wagging. Ida used her tail to talk a lot. When she wanted to come in the house, she would stand outside our window and thump her big collie tail against the wall. Boom, boom, boom. It was hard to ignore. The same in the morning. She would come in the bedroom and the tail would hit the dresser. Boom, boom, boom. Time to get up. We wouldn’t yell at Ida to stop, to go away. She was too gentle for that. She didn’t ask for much, so when her tail talked, we listened.
I don’t
have many amusing anecdotes about Ida. She
was too shy to do anything goofy. She didn’t take chances. She wasn’t the life
of any parties. In fact she was a bit
of a wallflower
It was
that very meekness that made her endearing. She was a Rock of Ages. If you
needed a companion, she was there. If
you needed someone to talk to, she seemed to listen. She was old reliable
Ida. Always ready Ida. Always faithful Ida.
Ida just wanted to be where you were. Close, really close. |
We got another dog about five years
ago, an Australian shepherd named
MacKenzie. It took about five minutes for Mack to assert herself over Ida.
One fight. Then Ida accepted her place. She was a submissive dog. Mack was the alpha. They were total opposites. But that made Ida all the more lovable, because just when you had had enough of the live-wire, the smart, pretty, happy MacKenzie, there stood Old Ida, tail wagging, ready and waiting for your affection.
One fight. Then Ida accepted her place. She was a submissive dog. Mack was the alpha. They were total opposites. But that made Ida all the more lovable, because just when you had had enough of the live-wire, the smart, pretty, happy MacKenzie, there stood Old Ida, tail wagging, ready and waiting for your affection.
David with Ida and MacKenzie. Poor Kenzie went into a long depression when her old friend died. |
I never saw Ida bite or snap until last Thursday night. I drove home from work and pulled into the
driveway. She and MacKenzie came
bounding out to meet me. I ignored them as usual. My thoughts were on supper
and seeing Cindy and the kids.
I turned the car around and was pulling forward to
park it when I felt the car go over something. I opened the door and there lay
Ida, right beneath me, half under the car. I hadn’t even seen it happen.
I reached
down to her and she snapped at me. That’s when I fully realized what I had
done, how bad it was.
I called our veterinarian, but there was nothing we could do.
Cindy and Ι stayed
by her and talked to her. She gave a few groans, as if she finally had the
courage to tell me I should have been more careful. She of all dogs didn’t deserve to die this
way, and it was my fault all the way. Her mouth worked over a few more wordless
thoughts, then the light went out of her friendly, timid eyes.
Ida demonstrates her very best (and only) trick. |
Ida’s body lay in the pole barn for a
day. MacKenzie lay outside the door for a while, as if she expected her old
playmate to come out so Mack could pester her.
We buried
Ida on Saturday morning. Binti has daffodils on her grave. They bloom every
spring. Ida will receive a flowery headstone too. She’ll stay in our hearts even longer.
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