The Adventure Dog

First dog I ever owned was a gray Australian Shepherd mixed breed named Smoky.  I named him after the Burt Reynolds movie.  

Smoky was my adventure dog.  Well, adventure in 2nd grade terms. 
I was living in small town, USA.  We had four seasons.  White Christmases.  A 4th of July parade down Main Street.  Two churches and one medical clinic in town.  It was an idyllic place for a young boy like me.

I spent my summer days hiking up to the Indian ruins where I searched for pottery and arrowheads.  Armed with a steak knife and the overly energetic Smoky by my side, I always felt safe during those treks deep into the forest. 

My memories of Smoky are dim.   I recall he enjoyed chasing cars, going on adventures with me and oddly, he preferred being kept in the yard as opposed to an inside dog.  Mostly, I remember my love for that dog and his loyalty towards me.
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When 5th grade was approaching, mom told me we were moving back to the city.  Back to the life I knew the first seven years of my life.   Mom needed a good paying job and another fresh start.  She needed to escape the drama and abuse she encountered in Small Town, USA.  

It's funny thinking of my mom when she was in her early thirties.  She partied a lot and dated so many men.  A LOT OF MEN.

Never good men, though.  

At the time, I didn't realize that every decision she made, she made them with my best interests at heart.   I viewed the constant chaos and ever changing life decisions as being irresponsible aimed at making me miserable.   I don't recall resenting her but I do remember using these constant life changes to manipulate her.  

You cant afford to buy me a new bike?   You just took me out of school away from all my friends to move to the big city so you could make more money?

And then mom would buy me that bike.  Just like that.  Years later, I learned it was her 3rd part time job that paid for that bike.
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We arrived back into the city, back into the house I grew up in.  It was relatively a modest house stuck in a HUD neighborhood with a nice backyard for Smoky.   The neighbors were just about all Native Americans living rent free and on welfare.  All I knew about them is they loved beer.   My only chore was early every morning going yard to yard and collecting aluminum cans.   That was our grocery money.

Eventually, mom lost the house.  It was valued at $28,000 at the time.  Nonetheless, she was proud of it.  

As was I.
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We moved into a mobile home temporarily.  It was at this time, we had to part ways with Smoky.  Smoky the adventure dog needed a yard.  He needed to roam.  He needed what we could not provide.

We were new members at a church.  Mom placed an announcement in the weekly bulletin letting other families know our dog was available.

Before too long, Smoky had a new home.  A 10 acre yard with horses and two other dogs.  Smoky was going to live the rest of his life as intended for adventure dogs.

I was heartbroken.   Smoky was a huge part of my childhood and my best friend during those years in Small Town, USA.

Mom did her best to allow me to visit him a couple times a month.  Over time, those bi-monthly visits became never.
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Years later, the summer before high school, mom said she had a surprise for me.   So, we took a 30  minute drive to the outskirts of town.   We pulled into a dusty driveway and as soon as I exited her banana colored Maverick without a muffler, an elderly overweight dog jumped on me.

IT WAS SMOKY!

I recognized that joy and he recognized my awkward disposition.  It was obvious he was near the end of his life but it was even more apparent, that he had lived a long and fulfilling one. 

I spent an hour with my adventure dog just walking the grounds of his new and last home, a dairy farm.   He stayed by my side every step of the way.   Just like those days in Small Town, USA.

We left that place and of course, I knew it was the last time I would ever see that joyful and ever so curious once best friend. 
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It's always heartbreaking to lose someone or something you love.  Sometimes, it's just better for them that we do.  I suppose a true selfless love will always include wanting that other entity to be happy. 

I will always remember Smoky the adventure dog fondly for those years of love and loyalty he gave me; without pause.  I am proud that he was able to end his life full of joy and loved by someone....

Even if I was no longer the provider I had once been.