Walk for Brophe

Sep 18  |  Jon Moray

I own a dog named Gunner. I didn’t want the tri-colored beagle, but one day, my family brought him home and I was now stuck with him.

I hated leashing him up and taking him for walks around the loop for fear that irresponsible neighbors would neglect their dogs, let them roam the neighborhood, and attack my Gunner. Woe is me.

It seemed like every day was an encounter with an unwelcomed domesticated animal. Still faithful to my dog, I braved the animal elements to allow for my Gunner to “pay some bills” in peace.

One early morning just after the sun appeared over the wooded trees in the distance, Gunner was whimpering and panting to go out, which was unusual because our habitual walk was not for another two hours. This behavior had never happened before, but there he was at the door and nosing up against the jamb. Gunner’s yelping pleas were relentless, and I finally surrendered to his unending request. I leashed him up and exited my home through the front door and out to another unwanted adventure.

To my surprise, I saw many dogs and their owners from the loop walking peacefully along the sidewalk. Gunner tugged me along and fell in line with the group. The Jackson’s were walking Rico, their golden retriever, who barks at anything on four legs including lizards. Today, Rico behaved as if the biggest bacon flavored dog treat depended on it. Matching Rico step for step was Doggie the Doberman, off the leash, without its owner and for once not chasing cars, cats or kids on bicycles. Behind them was Muffy the Chihuahua, raspy voiced from all the yapping that was widely ignored by any creature that drew breath.

There were other dogs and owners mixed in that for the most part, kept to themselves. Their yards were the extent of dog walks on normal days.

Last, but not least was Charlie the Jack Russell, who carried the title of trying to prove his bite was twice as bad as his bark. Charlie has nipped at many a leg including mine when I was coming home from a run. Today, this collection of mutts were one in unison with somber silence occasionally broken by a memory that rendered a whimper.

The walk was void of the dogs investigating each other by smell, tangling of leashes, and marking fire hydrant territory.

“What’s going on?” I nudged Ralph, my neighbor six houses down.

“It’s Brophe. The big, shaggy white dog died last night. You know the dog whose owner let him go all over the neighbor’s properties and leave it as a gift?”

I knew exactly who my neighbor meant, but was surprised at how serene and well behaved all the dogs were, including my Gunner.

Ralph explained he believed the dogs that the neighborhood dogs sensed the demise of Brophe, and decided to walk around the loop in his honor.

“Today, there is exquisite peace with all our pets. Tomorrow, all bets are off,” he surmised.

I mentally agreed and acknowledged him with a nod. We continued around the loop with each neighbor dropping off at their homes. I led Gunner back home after he did his business.

After Gunner enjoyed his after walk treat, he nestled onto his floor bed and settled in for a nap, knowing tomorrow will be back to the battle for the loop supremacy in the form of barks, growls, and howls between him and all of the neighborhood dogs.

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