A tribute to Ebony

Admittedly, my first book Pocket Girdles, took the cover off the family fish bowl. The second one Postcards from Potato Land continued the process of inviting readers into the day-to-day, slice of life happenings affecting our lives here at the Love house on Great Northern Road.

In that second book, I penned a particularly funny but poignant story called "Black Lab Tests." It told of the difficulties associated with taking our English setter Bogey to the veterinary hospital when it had become obvious that his life was consumed with physical misery. I took on that responsibility, and it was, indeed, a tough day to say good bye to our family friend.

Adding an upbeat note to the story, however, were a series of anecdotes regarding our young Black Lab named Ebbie. For example, she had insisted on returning a rotted deer head to the back porch for our inspection numerous times after I'd tried to hide it in numerous places. I think we finally hauled it away.

She had also stolen a Bible from the strange church next door, brought it to our house and chewed several of its verses into hundreds of tiny little pieces. We were too embarrassed to return it, so we asked the Schwan's man to stick it in their mailbox under cover of darkness.

Eight years have passed since that story was published, and now I'm still offering those slice-of-life visits into our lives through this daily blog. It is, therefore, with a very heavy heart that I write today's entry, but as a writer who deals in truth and all aspects of life as we know it, I cannot bypass this topic.

Yesterday's slice of life, here at our little farm, does not make me smile. I backed the car over our much-loved Ebony. Although simple words cannot describe the horror of the moment, I can express, however, the agony of knowing immediately what I'd done as I heard her shriek and felt the car roll over her. I jumped out. My wailing screams joined her desperate yiping. She bit me a couple of times as she reeled in pain.

I was alone. Bill had gone to church. I could do nothing more than to call the vet hospital's answering machine, only to wait and run back and forth to make her comfortable, to pet her and to tell her I was so sorry. Finally, the vet called back. By the time I stepped back outside, she had died.

Thank you to Chris and Jeremy, who came by during this horrible time, for your caring and understanding. And, many thanks to my sisters and mother who did what family members do for each other. My sisters buried Ebbie right next to a newly developed flower bed. My mother offered comfort.

Our immediate family has lost a good friend. She gave us many wonderful years of canine impishness, occasional irritation and, more than anything, unconditional love, which only a pet can do.

I'll miss that moment each morning when she greeted me and expected my daily acknowledgement of stroking her ears, giving her a big hug, telling her "You're such a lovely dog." She'd return that acknowledgement and go on about her way wiggling that rear, wagging that tail, and offering her big Lab smile.

Today, I'll go find a beautiful shrub and plant it above her grave out there across the driveway. And I'll probably shed many more tears in her memory.

Ebony Love

Circa 1995 -- June 5, 2005

We love you

We miss you

Bill, Marianne, Willie, Annie and Deborah Love

and

your very special friends: Annie Dog, Licker, Fuzzy Wuzzy, Lonesome Love, Festus, Charlie, Barney, Rambo, and Casey