We found her sitting under a mailbox beside the road of the rural community. She was obviously waiting for someone to come for her. Each time a car came along, she jumped up and stood at the edge of the road with a hopeful look. As it passed her by, she would hang her head and go back to the mailbox.
After we finished our visit with family members who lived there, we mentioned the beautiful little dog who waited beside the road. A relative informed us that the dog would not be there the next morning. We asked why, and he said, “'cause I'm gonna kill it.”
Of course, as we left, we persuaded the dog to come with us. She was a Sheltie; black and white, with a little brown thrown in. For several days, we tried to find a name that suited her. One day, my husband sat talking to her, asking what her name was. Was it “Rosie”, “Belle”, or “Liza”. Maybe it was “Bertha”, “Mollie”, or “Trudy”. Finally, he shrugged and said, “Maybe it is “Butch”. When she heard the name”Butch”, she went wild, barking and jumping. Running to the door, she begged to go out. At the road, she stood looking left and right, and crying. Finally realizing Butch was not coming, she slowly made her way back to the house with her head down. We were careful never to mention Butch again.
We settled on the name “Sally”, and soon we discovered that Sally had been well-trained by someone. She took it upon herself to watch after our little granddaughter, who was just a toddler. If the child strayed too close to the road, Sally would bump her, causing her to sit down on the ground, and then guard her until a grownup came to pick her up.
One day, my daughter and I went for a walk down to the end of the road, and the dog decided to go with us. We had to pass a yard where a particularly vicious Chow dog lived. He began lunging at the fence, growling, and chewing on the wire. Without looking at him, Sally moved over and got between him and us. If he had been able to get free, no doubt Sally would have sacrificed herself for us.
We acquired a big old clumsey puppy named “Apocalypse”. Sally spent many hours working to teach the puppy how to be safe and get along in the world. One day, I saw Sally lead Apocalypse out to the edge of the road. They stood there side by side until a car came along. Then, Sally “bumped” the puppy back from the road. Apocalypse looked at her as if to say, “Hey, why 'ja do that, huh, Sally?” She never gave up until the puppy learned to look both ways before crossing the road.
Sally lived with us for many years as a faithful friend and protector, but she never really became “our” dog. She earned her keep in every way she knew, and she loved us, but she never forgot her “Butch”. The bond with him was so strong, I can only think he must have been dead. Otherwise, he would have been searching for her, and they could have been reunited.
One morning, I found Sally stretched out under the tallow tree. Before I got to her, I knew she had gone to find her Butch. She now sleeps in a back corner of the property under a pine tree. It was the most peaceful spot we could find for her, and was the last thing we could do for her. Rest in Peace, our good and faithful friend.