Meet Darby (and that’s me, for those who have never seen a picture). That dog right there was the Best. Dog. Ever.
I’ve been owned by many dogs throughout my life and each was special in his/her own way. But I connected with Darby from the very moment we laid eyes on each other. She was owned by a breeder that I had contacted while looking for a rescue organization to adopt from. The breeder, a very wonderful woman, told me that she had a dog that had just incurred a chipped elbow and shouldn’t be used for breeding again. I drove down that weekend to the woman’s house and was in Saint Bernard heaven. There were quite a few rescue dogs there, plus her own breeding dogs AND two huge litters of puppies. If the boys hadn’t still been in diapers at that point, I probably would have come home with Darby AND one of her puppies, but I knew that I couldn’t take on housetraining and toilet training at the same time without losing my mind. We signed the paperwork, stuffed Darby in the back of my little Tracker and I was on my way. I talked to her all the way home and by the time we arrived, the bond was formed. The picture above was taken on her first night with us and that’s pretty much where she always stayed…by my side or at my feet.
At 192 lbs., I had cause to be concerned over how Darby behave around Monkeyboy, who was barely a year old at the time. Even an unintentional swipe of her tail could have seriously hurt MB…or me for that matter. I weigh 110 lbs soaking wet and the second concern I had was being able to control a dog that big. My other saints were all typical weights for the breed: 130 to 150 lbs. My concerns were completely unfounded though. This dog could tiptoe through the maze of children and toys like a ballerina and keeping her under control never required more than the sound of my voice. She even picked up my non-verbal cues and would lay down every time I looked at her with raised eyebrows.
We had a window next to our back door and whenever someone knocked, she’d get up, walk over to the window and move the curtain aside with her nose. No barking, no anything. Just a GREAT BIG HEAD in the window. I can’t tell you how many postmen, delivery men and Jehovah’s Witnesses she scared doing that. If I allowed a stranger to enter the house or stopped to talk to one on the street, she’d quietly move herself between me and the stranger and JUST WATCH. She’d never take her eyes off the person, but she’d make no threatening moves. She didn’t need to. Her sheer size intimidated the shit out of most people, but if she knew you and LOVED you, there would be no doubt in your mind that she worshipped the ground you walked on.
She was the boys’ pillow, security blanket and alarm clock all rolled into one. When they were each old enough to start school, she’d pine for them while they were gone. If they were outside playing in the yard, she was right there keeping watch. The boys stopped letting me play hide and seek with them because all I had to do was ask, “Where are your babies?” and she’d lead me right to them.
Darby died a few years ago and we still mourn her. I’ve always believed that the best way to honor a beloved pet’s memory was to give a good home to another pet who needs someone to love them. This is the longest I’ve ever been without a saint and it’s due in large part to the fact that I don’t know if I can find another dog SO perfect for us. I’ve been scared that any other dog will be a disappointment. The funny thing is is that all of the saints that I’ve had have all come to me through very serendipitous events…like some force in the universe leads them to me (or vice versa).
Yesterday, I decided to open myself back up to the possibility of getting another dog. Now, I just sit back and let the universe handle the details.
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