Mike

When we moved to the river in ’46,

we had only one neighbor, Lew Reed

who lived a half mile west on River Road

with his Irish setter, Mike.  

Mike, a handsome specimen, red hair, strong legs,

keen eyes, a noble disposition.   

Lew and Mike would walk down the shore to visit

and we kids would cavort with the dog.

Running and jumping, tossing sticks and balls, 

wading in the river, resting in the sun. 

Soon, whenever Lew let him out, 

Mike would run away and come to our house.

We too him home at the end of the day.   

Finally Lew Reed relented to  fate

and he gifted Mike to our family.

We were thrilled. 

So fantastic

so smart

mature

a loyal companion

calm, affectionate, well-behaved.

Mike camped with us at Mason Park 

Long hikes on the river shore. 

Tossing the football, foot races in the yard.  

In the summer our family took our boat to Indian Island for picnics. 

Four kids, no room in the rowboat for a dog

so Mike swam along behind the boat — 

. . . . . . . . . . . . a half mile or more.

Mike loved chasing the chipmunks on the lawn.

Squirrels too, occasionally a rabbit. 

Each year he would corner a porcupine, 

winding up with a nose full of quills.

Yikes!  Ouch!  Ooooh! 

Off to Dr. Seidl for painful extractions.

A year later he’d forgotten and

he did it all over again. 

One spring afternoon Mike fell through the river ice.

My mother forbade us to leave the house

and she crawled out on the ice on her stomach

to rescue our beloved dog.

My grandfather bought us a second Irish setter in Florida.

We named her Micki and Mike was her mentor. 

Mike trained Micki to never do her business on our lawn.

Instead, they went to the birch grove next door. 

Mike and Micki got into a vicious fight.

My mother intervened, had her forearm ripped open.

At the hospital she forgave the dogs 

and blamed herself instead.  

Mike lived to a ripe old age.

Then one summer day he collapsed outside our door

dead from a stroke.  

I dug his grave in our back pasture.

A deep grave for a large dog.

My sister added a wooden cross that she’d made.    

I remember exactly how that gravedigging felt.

It still brings tears to my eyes.