My labrador retriever Cheyenne passed away last October, 2012. Most of the time things are fine and life has its way of taking over the daily agenda, but there are times when memories of my playful, sensitive charmer of a dog takes over in a wave of movies playing in my head.
Whenever I would exit my upstairs office, Cheyenne would hear me and emerge from the master bathroom, which she considered her own personal cave, and she would check to see whether or not I was going downstairs, because if I was, there would be a cookie in it for her. I would always go to the kitchen to give her a little dog biscuit which I called a cookie.
She really scared me one day when I went upstairs to the bedroom and saw her on my bed with a plastic CVS prescription pill container and a bunch of little pills scattered around it. They were the muscle relaxant pills that I had gotten to ease my lower back pain and since I had stopped taking them because they made me too drowsy, there were many left over. I had no idea if Cheyenne had taken any of the pills, or if so, how many she had taken.
In a flash I grabbed my purse and ushered Cheyenne into the car and drove her to her veterinarian. They took all the necessary precautions and kept her overnight just to be sure.
I picked her up the next day, the same innocent, observant dog, happy to see me and happy to go home again. Such is life, with the moments of fright turning into sweet memories with the passing of time.