Under the Tamarisk Tree

A year ago my dad and mom brought home a beautiful white lab puppy.

Not just a yellow lab, a WHITE lab.

He was so cute and sweet.

My dad hadn't had a dog in a few years and we were all ready to see a wagging tail in the back yard.

 

Porter was a good dog.

He was always happy to see everyone.

He had a very soft mouth and would take treats ever so carefully from little cubby hands.

He had a pogo problem.

He didn't really jump.

Just bounce right in front of you over, and over, and over.

He liked to dig when it was too hot and ate too many flowers.

 

 

About a month ago Porter stopped eating.

He was slowly fading.

I took him to the vet and it was discovered he had swallowed a ROCK.

A rock?!?

Why would he decide to eat a freaking rock!?

But he did.

The effort to try to work it threw his body, and the surgery to try to save him, failed.

He was gently laid to rest on September 25th.

He was a sweet, beautiful creature and I was heart broken.

I had hauled him to the vet because I wanted to do something to make a difference.

I wanted to save him!!

And my efforts were in vain.

So he lies next to the generations before him, under the tamarisk tree in the back yard, where all good dogs go in our family.