The Incorrect Number of Retrievers

One of the first friends we made at Fort Williams was Linda and her herd of Golden Retrievers. The number can go up and down a bit from time to time, because Linda does fostering for a rescue organization, but for the last year or so, her three, Callie, Maddie and Frankie, were her constant companions. Maddie taught Athena to love the apples that fell at the end of the season, and it seemed the rottener they got, the more Athena loved them. Frankie was always ready for a game of tag with Athena, but Callie and Maddie were more sedate, choosing to visit with the people who would pass by, and one or the other would sit close to my leg and lean against me for a pat.
The very first day we saw them, it was near a holiday-- I can't remember which one... Halloween? St. Patrick's Day? Whatever time of year it was, Linda used to get them each a holiday bandanna, and they were a picture just waiting for a calendar-- especially when they would start a spontaneous game of chew the bandanna off each other. It was a riot.
This past summer, Linda took in Travis, a young spirited golden retriever who it was hard to believe anyone couldn't love, but I am the first to admit that rescue dogs can have their issues. I adore Athena, but in the first few months (okay, pretty much the whole first year), I could be driven to tears, and would lament "puppies aren't supposed to make you cry!"
The wonderful thing about someone like Linda is that she really gets to know a dog, and she can really help to find the right family-- she won't let someone make the mistake of adopting a high spirited dog without committing to making sure the dog gets enough exercise. By the fall, it was clear who the right family was for Travis-- Linda's family, so then there were four goldens in variegated tones, some slower some faster, but all happy swishy tail wagging friends.
When I saw them yesterday, I found myself continuing to scan the landscape trying to find the right number of retrievers, but I couldn't. We found out that Callie has been diagnosed with bone cancer, and was home resting, the park now too much exertion. In this funny little neighborhood where we live for just an hour or two each day, where at least half the friends have four legs, it is a tough blow whenever anyone is hurt or sick or when there is the pain of the loss of a faithful companion. We miss Callie and send her our love in our thoughts. We are glad that she is in a home where she is surrounded by love and is well cared for at the end of a long adventure. Time to start a batch of home-made dog biscuits...

Frankie, leaning against my pocket-- the one that holds the dog biscuits