My husband, Paul, didn't notice the dog until he was halfway across the vacant lot he was traversing on his way to get his haircut. The lot was adjacent to his office and rather than follow the sidewalk around it's parameter he cut a diagonal path through the overgrown, dried grass. It was the dried grass that obscured her at first being the same golden yellow as her coat. He came close to stepping on her but stopped just in time when he realized what was laying before him. It was a large, pale yellow dog. She stood up, her tail gently wagged back and forth and looked at him with a wide grin and clear brown eyes. It was then that he saw the chain running from her collar snaking back to a plastic dog house with food and water bowls nearby. He was careful not to pet her (she was a strange dog after all) but instead greeted her with a "Well hello". She wagged her tail with enthusiasm while dancing in place in reply. He looked around and noticed the building adjacent to the lot. "That must be where owner lives," he mused as he continued on to his appointment.
After that first meeting, Paul couldn't seem to get the big yellow dog out of his mind. He could see her out of his office window chained in the same spot day after day in sun, rain or snow. Then he came up with a plan. After dinner one evening he casually asked me if I was interested in getting another dog. Well, that's like asking me if I want more chocolate! While we were usually a two dog family, at that time, we were down to one dog, Zelda, having recently helped our elderly dog, Buster, cross over the rainbow bridge. But really, even if we still had two dogs, I would have happily said yes to a third. "Don't get too excited," he cautioned after he explained the yellow dog's situation to me. "I haven't even approached her owners yet. They may not take kindly to me asking if I can have their dog." I promised to tamp down my enthusiasm with my fingers crossed behind my back.
The next day Paul again took the path across the vacant lot. He paused and said "hello" to the yellow dog who wagged her tail and smiled at him. Taking her grin as a good sign, he walked to the front of the nearby building and knocked on the door. A man in his early thirties opened the door and greeted him with a questioning look. Paul introduced himself and then said "You're either going to think this is a good idea or you're going to yell at me to get off your porch. I think I can give your dog a better life." The man looked at him silently for a moment before asking "Are you the one who reported me to animal control?" "No," replied Paul. "I've watched your dog day after day from my office window over there." he said pointing to his nearby office. "It seems as if you don't have much time for her," he continued. "I live with my wife and two boys on three acres in the forest with a large fenced yard. We have one dog already to keep her company and she would have daily two mile walks in the forest with my wife."
The man listened to Paul quietly and then related his story. The yellow dog (her name was Honcho) wasn't always tied up alone in the yard. The navy man had found Honcho and her brother (whom he named Gocho) when they were puppies wandering along a highway when he was stationed in Japan. His service in Japan inspired their names, "Honcho" which is Japanese for "squad leader" and Gocho meaning "corporal". He loved Honcho and Gocho and spent time teaching them commands in Japanese, "Suwaru" for "sit" and "Taizai" for "stay" to name a few. His life in the Navy brought him to Naval Air Station Whidbey Island with Honcho and Gocho along for the new adventure. After he retired from the Navy, he met a woman (now his wife) and they had a new baby. As it turned out, his new wife was allergic to dogs so Honcho and Gocho were relegated to living outdoors. He tried to still spend time with his dogs but his new family and fledgling martial arts business required more and more of his attention. Not long after, Gocho (who was now 10) passed away and Honcho was left to continue her lonely vigil in the overgrown field of weeds.
When he finished his story, the man looked at Paul and said "You're sure she will have a good life?" "Absolutely," said Paul without hesitation. The man took Paul out to meet Honcho who was wagging her tail wildly at the approach of her master and her new friend. Honcho was as friendly as her waving tail suggested and well trained. "My wife and boys are going to love her," said Paul. "Thank you for asking," said the man. He insisted we take the dog house and her remaining bag of kibble as well as her veterinary records and a check for $100 so we "could get a vet check for her". And just like that, we had another dog.
Honcho came to our home and fit into our family life seamlessly. She got along well with our other dog and cat and our boys were thrilled to have another pet. Her greatest joy was laying on our back deck in the warm sun with the occasional foray onto the lawn to roll back and forth scratching all of her itchy spots. She didn't have to be chained or contained in anyway. She never wandered off. This was her home now and she wasn't going anywhere. Honcho was with us for five years before she also crossed over the rainbow bridge. She came to us as a second-hand dog but left us as a dear part of our family.
Whidbey Cows
14x11 inches, oil on linen canvas, 2020
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A mother cow and her calf enjoy the late afternoon sun in a pastoral setting on Whidbey island.
