Friday, January 20, 2012
German shorthaired pointers are such beautiful dogs to me. I find the physical shape of dogs to be interesting and beautiful, and GSP's, like all shorthaired dogs, allow me to focus on the form beneath the hair rather than the hair, which often obscures that form.
The most wonderful dog I have ever had (I still can't look at photos of him after almost six years following his death) was a German shorthaired pointer and most likely some kind of hound. He was the most intelligent, friendliest, most most most beautiful dog I've ever had the fortune to spend a part of my life with. His name was Dune, and his adoption was quite unique. I was at an art show, standing in line to buy a cup of coffee, when I saw this most beautiful ever dog, standing in front of me with a young man. I had to comment on his beauty to the young man, and I jokingly said that if he ever didn't want to keep him (and who wouldn't want to keep such a beautiful dog!!!), that I would take him in a second. The man thanked me, and we both went our separate ways.
Later in the day, I was still at the show, and the young man approached me with tears in his eyes and asked me if I was serious about my comment in the coffee line. I was shocked, but I said of course I was. He explained that he was a college student, living in a small apartment, and that Dune (that's the name he had given him) was a bit more than he could handle in his present situation. Anyway, you can guess the rest of the story.
Dune and I took a bit of time to bond because he really missed the young man, who contacted me to see how he was doing but thought it best that he not see him again (I agreed with that). But eventually, we became inseparable. He even traveled with me when I had to go away on business. He was a perfect gentleman in the city and a lovable clown in the country, where I lived at the time. He was admired by all who saw him; and on more than one occasion, but many perfect strangers offered to buy him from me for huge sums of money!
I lost him most awfully. A few years ago, he and I had traveled together to visit my mother, who unbeknownst to me, had late-stage lung cancer and didn't want me to know until I was with her. On my arrival, I immediately took over her full-time care, actually living in the hospital with her for her last month and a half of life. My brother kept my precious Dune in a pen in his yard as he worked full-time and was visiting our mother the rest of the time.
I went to see Dune as often as I could, and it broke my heart to see him because he was so depressed at not being with me for the first time ever. Well, I lost my mother; and during the funeral arrangements for her, my precious Dune died (from what I don't know) - without me, feeling I'm sure completely abandoned, lost, and all alone. I've never gotten over it, to have lost them both within such a short period of time. Well, to this day, my sadness is unspeakable, and this is the first time I've ever written about what happened. He was ten years old, in excellent health when this nightmare started. Rest in peace, Mother and Dune.