Animal friends

Two animals raised me, and trained me. Yes, my parents raised me, but I didn't respect them until much later. My sister had much to teach me, as did my grandparents who lived just down the road. But I didn't take in those lessons until much later. I'm a bit of a slow learner, I've found out.

Feather, my mare, and Smoky the dog though, I learned from daily. Maybe I could take it in because I thought I was the trainer! When we got Smoky, it was from someone who had to get rid of him because he had bit a child through the fence, as I recall. I never saw evidence of meanness though. He had not been taught to walk on a leash, sit, or other commands, which I did teach him. What I know now, is that developing the discipline to train a dog, also trains a child.

So later, when Feather came into my life, I was developing the discipline that helped me care for her at the end of her pregnancy and when Quill was born. I even was able to train Quill for awhile, until his testosterone became overpowering and I became scared to trust him.

That was when I convinced my dad that he had to be gelded. I remember the day well. After the vet gave him a shot, I held him by the halter as his eyes slowly glazed over, and he sank to the ground. They quickly cut his scrotal sac, and pulled out the testicles. They used steel nippers to cut the connection, and then quickly sewed up the sac, although I don't recall that part. I think by then I was just petting his neck.

Soon enough, he regained consciousness, and was able to walk back to the pasture. And I was able to continue training him first on the ground, then to the saddle, and eventually able to sit on his back and then ride him. Eventually Quill became my dad's horse, taking him on many trail rides in the mountains, and hunting trips.

Feather was an experienced horse, and seemingly could do anything I asked her to do. The more we rode together, the more we trusted one another, until I could ride her bareback in the field with no reins, and not even a rope to the halter.

As I went through tough times emotionally in my young teens, especially when my grandfather (Thomas Cowan, my father's father) died, I felt that Feather and Quill were my only friends, and closer than family. That was not true, but as my thoughts and feelings roiled, I felt I could say anything to them, and they would understand, and still love me. This is one of the things that animal companions give to us: unconditional love. Sometimes it is hard to give that to other humans, so I have so often been thankful to give it, and receive it from Brandy, Smoky, Feather, Jet, Rhys, Mollie, and Lilly. Alice? maybe. :-)

B. B. Brandy

B. B. Brandy was also "outside the house," but he deserves his own story. When I was in 8th or 9th grade, friends and I used to go riding on the local roads and trails after school, on the weekends, and as much as we could in the summer.

One day, Judy and I heard whimpers in the bushes next to the road, not too far from our house. It was a litter of puppies! Some cruel person had dropped off puppies, perhaps 8 weeks old. They had their eyes open, and the beginnings of their spotted coats, but still made those tiny-pup noises. We each grabbed one (were there only two? were there more of us riding together? I don't remember) and rode carefully to my house. My mother was out working in the yard or garden, and I ran to show her the sweet little puppy.

Before I asked, she said, "No, you cannot keep the puppy!" Mom......... c'mon. You can't be so mean. Should I take it back so that it DIES!?

"No, no, no."

In defeat, I asked if she would hold the puppy while I got back on Feather's back, so we could try to find a home for the poor little thing. Then magic happened. The puppy snuggled against her, and made those little puppy noises. And that was it, she fell in love.

Mom and my sister Kim named him B. B. Brandy, for unknown reasons. He seemed to be at least part Springer spaniel, and wow did he have the "springer" part! At this point, the door to the back patio was a door with a window on top, and if he was begging to get in, he could jump up as high as that window! It was so funny that even my Dad would let him in sometimes. Really, we all fell in love with him. Even Smoky our other dog enjoyed his company and playing with him.

This story has a sad ending though. One day I was late to the bus or it was early. The bus usually picked me up at the driveway. As I raced across the yard and down the little hill and through the ditch, I didn't notice that Brandy had followed me. I can't remember exactly what happened next perhaps because it was too awful, but Brandy ran right under the wheels of the bus and was killed.

The house was very sad for many weeks. In fact, on the anniversary of his death, even when I had forgotten the date, I came home to find my mother and sister sobbing in grief. At this point, I'm still missing him, but also smiling to remember his beautiful, loving, bouncy spirit.

Rest in peace, B. B. Brandy.