Friends

Our dog Taylor died in March, 2005. Pam wrote a tribute to the black Lab who stole our hearts 8 years ago that I would like to share with you.

Randy

Ode to Taylor

From the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail, Taylor was 100% pure heart. I love heart. It is the greatest of all qualities. If she had been human she probably would have been a great salesman because she had absolutely no fear of rejection. She would approach any one and everyone, clearly wanting to be greeted and petted. And if they failed to do so, oh well, on to the next person. She didn't bat 1000, but it was pretty close. Taylor liked people and people liked Taylor. On our Providence Canyon trip last spring, we stopped in an 1850 period re-enacted town called Westville. Much to our delight they allowed dogs to visit. Much to Taylor's delight there were large groups of people to troll for attention, and she got lots of petting. It was great fun to watch her work the crowd.

Labs are known for their loyalty, and Taylor was certainly loyal to us. That makes the story of how she came to be ours all the more remarkable.

The first time Taylor came to visit, I found her lying in the backyard, her muscles were convulsing and she was foaming at the mouth. Naturally, my first thought was rabies. Then I thought, oh my god, could some one have poisoned her? My next thought was that it could be a seizure, although how I came to that conclusion is beyond me as I had no experience with seizures. I sat with her and comforted her until it was over. Since then I've learned that seizures are common in labs, the result of inbreeding.

Over the course of the next few months Taylor made frequent visits to our home. With her enormous heart she won ours. There was just no resisting such a sweet loving dog. She came and went as she pleased and over time the visits became longer; she would stay for days. If we felt she had stayed too long we would tell her to go home. That was hard to do because of the look she would give us, there was no mistaking that she didn't want to go. Unbeknown to us her owners made occasional attempts to confine her. We learned from them that she had leaped off the second floor deck to escape. She injured her shoulder in that leap, and it never really healed completely, so she had a noticeable limp for the rest of her days. After that she stopped going to their house, and we stopped making her. And that's how she became ours.

These people had another dog, Scout, who followed in Taylor's footsteps a few months later. But that's another story. This is Taylor's story.

Her ability to communicate was remarkable; she had a way of arranging her face that told you what she was thinking. Although many people are afraid of large dogs, I don't recall seeing anyone mistake her approach, she was clearly friendly. She always found a way to let you know what she wanted. She made me understand that she didn't like faucet water; she very much preferred bottled or filtered water. Initially I refused to accommodate her on this, but if I had it to do over I would give in much quicker. I don't like faucet water either.

Taylor was not allowed on the living room furniture. But the physical evidence gave her away; the recliners were her favorite. Since we never caught her, we figured that she must be making her moves while we were gone. We tested the theory by peeking in the windows before she knew we were there. Sure enough there'd she'd be lying in one of the chairs like she was royalty and that was her throne. She'd jump down as soon as she saw us. We could only laugh. It was just impossible to get mad at her.

She didn't have mean bone in her body. I never saw her growl, snarl, or show her teeth (wish I could say the same for me). It was amazing to watch how she handled aggressive behavior. She never showed fear, nor did she respond with aggression. She refused to acknowledge the aggression; she simply ignored it. And it worked, took the air right out of the aggressor's tires.

She had indomitable spirit and a first class attitude. She was without a doubt the happiest dog I've ever had the privilege of knowing. Although she had numerous health issues, nothing ever got her down, not even the crippling arthritis she had to endure. Her arthritis slowed her down considerably; we called it moving at the speed of Tay. She helped me find a level of patience that I had no idea was possible. She taught me how to mosey, and it's not my nature to mosey.

She only weighed 60 pounds, but she filled the house. It is incredibly empty without her. In the immortal words of Lewis Grizzard when lamenting the loss of his beloved lab, Catfish. "She has ripped my heart out and stomped that sucker flat." I will grieve her loss for some time to come. But I am truly grateful for the forces that brought her into my life, and will cherish her memory for the rest of my days.

Pam Golden

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