A Farewell to An Old Friend

Christmas of 1992 will never be topped in my book.

I was in the 7 years old and in the first grade and was obsessed with dogs. The year before I had seen the Disney classic “One Hundred and One Dalmatians.” I begged my parents to get me a dog for a year straight to no avail.

I woke up on Christmas morning super early and excited to see what Santa had brought. I walked down the hall and into the kitchen and saw dog bowls and a leash, but no dog. I was confused.

My parents told me, and I guess my sisters since this was going to be a family gift, that we would go down to the shelter and get a dog. Needless to say, I was excited.

The five of us piled into the family station wagon and hit up the St. Louis Humane Society. We walked into a room and there was one single dog in a cage waiting for a new home.  Immediately, I was in love and wanted this dog—a small black Border Collie. My family was less convinced and we headed back to the car. I was heartbroken.

My dad hung around inside to talk the people in charge to find out a good time to come back. He was told they were going to bring in a few more dogs if we wanted to take another look.  We went back inside and “interviewed” more dogs.

Back inside, my older sister became enamored with a sleeping puppy, but I was still transfixed on the black Border Collie. As I was petting him through the cage, his tail would wag wildly. The family decided to take him into a private room so we could interact with him.

After about five seconds alone, the Barkers had a new dog.

On the ride home my sisters and I played with the new puppy while we tried to decide on a name. I suggested some lame things—Snoopy, Pongo, etc. My dad wanted Blue after an episode of “The Andy Griffith Show.” My mom, having just recently fallen in love with singer Garth Brooks suggested Shameless after one of Garth’s songs. My middle sister sided with my mom and the new dog had a silly name: Shameless.

Shameless died on Tuesday at home. For 18-plus years he was part of my life. He had gotten sicker and frailer in the recent months—that tends to happen when a dog is going on his 19th year of being alive.

It’s a cliché to say that a dog is man’s best friend, but Shameless was mine. In my 25 years alive, 18 were spent with him as my dog.

During sick days as a kid, I would often spend the day plopped on the couch watching movies. Shameless was always by my side. Whenever any kid was sick, Shameless was always around. He knew when we’re sick.

Shameless was also responsible for my first trip the emergency room. Shortly after we had gotten him, we had a snow day from school. Shameless and I were going to go outside and play in the snow—he loved snow—but first wrestled in the living room. He had this knot chew toy and we’d play tug-of-war while rolling around. Somehow I ended up on my back the toy above my face. Shameless lunged and clipped me with a tooth/toenail above the eye.

I started bleeding. A lot.

I had to go to the hospital and get stitches, but I wasn’t mad. Once the stitches were out, Shameless and I went back to playing.

He was always considered the family dog, despite me taking the credit for picking him out, but finally the family relented and began calling him “my dog.” The tipping point came in my sophomore year of high school.

Sitting on the couch doing some chemistry homework, I heard Shameless make an awful yelping noise outside. I ran to the door and saw a giant dog with his jaws wrapped around my dog’s neck.

I sprinted outside and dove on the two dogs. Punching and rolling around on the ground, I tried to get this beast of a dog off of Shameless. Eventually, I freed Shameless from the big dog. Shameless had to go the hospital and got stitches, but he recovered. 

After that incident, he became my dog. It sounds stupid, but I always felt like our relationship changed after that. He started nuzzling me more often, something I never saw him do with anyone else. It was like his way of saying thank you.

A lot has happened to me since that Christmas, but I always knew whenever I came home Shameless would be waiting for me at the front. The next time I go home, he won’t be.

I’m going to miss my friend, my dog, the best dog I’ll ever have. I plan on getting my own dog soon, but he will have a tough time measuring up to Shameless.

Good-bye, Shameless. Thanks for the memories.